I'm not entirely sure why this long track around the edges of Helpston is referred to as 'the drove', but it's what Dad used to call it when the three of us - an ageing man and two slightly reluctant little girls - used to walk it during the long, hot summer days of the school holidays.
Today though, we walked it in the crisp whiteness of the snow and frost, the first time I'd revisited the old track in over twenty years; a wonderful way of refreshing old memories with new.
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