We follow the trails trodden a century ago by a band of revolutionary poets who fell for this corner of England
The cows clocked us as we started across a neighbouring field, and by the time we reached the stile a dozen beasts – some with pointy horns! – were jostling for an eyeful, snorting and stamping an occasional hoof. Continuing would have meant shouldering our way through the herd. We plucked up the courage to go on once the cows lost interest, but our townie fright at these gentle, curious creatures might have wrung a smile, even a wry verse or two, from the man whose writing had brought us to this part of north-west Gloucestershire.
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