Major Oak

Major Oak.

Fine chap. Has survived for around 1100 years and is still putting out fresh growth to delight the locals.

It turns out, to be classed as ancient oak you need to be 400+ years old. That’s if you’re an oak of course. In Sherwood Forest there are over a thousand ancient oaks. Isn’t that incredible.

As a child I would play in the major oak itself. Often armed with bow and arrow from the Forest Shop, no doubt ingeniously named ‘Tuck’s Ware’s’ or ‘Sheriff’s Bounty.’ My brother and I would run around the forest like outlaws who were safe in the knowledge that lunch was waiting at home.

Now, pretty flimsy fence posts, keep Joe Public away from the old fella, and I say Amen to that.

The shot includes The Oak, of course, plus CC & MCC, plus one of my dear sisters and her two children, plus THE HOUNDS. Rufus was on fine form today, barking in typical maniac form to any number of dogs. Owners come in two camps. Firstly those who know dogs and nod their heads to me in suitable sympathy for my predicament. Secondly, those who clearly are demented & assume I’m happy having a hound from hades itself. Folk who stop to chat will maybe hear me say over his loud racket ‘he’s lovely at home!’ And he is. Little schnauzer Rufus.

Marvellous really.

Sherwood Forest

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