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Country Mouse: Save me from a 7-year-old adult-molester

Regulars | By Giles Wood


The all-seeing eye surveys my one acre from an upper window, in his section of the row of terraced cottages we share. Two hours ago, I escorted him off the premises; now he is waiting for an opportunity to sneak back in. The words trespass or boundaries have no meaning for this ‘little cloud of unknowing’, a seven-year-old village urchin. Because it’s the school holidays, there’s no one his own age in the village for him to play with, and my garden seems to him like an adventure playground. Never mind that he’s been told not to come in, unless invited. His is the generation that doesn’t take no for an answer. Some time goes by. Now the roles are reversed and I am watching from an upper window. My strategically positioned nettle beds are being bashed down with a rounders bat. He’s up, he’s over and now he’s darting...


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