It doesn’t do to go back. Or does it? I went back sixty years this week – to revisit my childhood haunts: the local farm, railway, primary school and the house that had been home.

The farm, once a thriving dairy concern with milk delivered to our house by horse and cart, had fallen into a state of dilapidation but is striving to reinvent itself.

A rusting footbridge is where my brother and I stood to wave to the drivers of steam trains that rushed from London under the bridge on their way to Scotland, covering us with sooty smoke. A mesh of electric overhead wiring helps today’s characterless trains run the same lines.

At the school I could ‘hear’ my year 3 teacher’s voice in my head as I stood at the entrance to her classroom. I saw the Head Teacher’s room where naughty children were sent. A new computer room brought my mind back to the present day.

To my delight the current owners of my childhood home invited me in to take a look. The house seemed smaller than when I lived there, but each room evoked memories.

Does it do to go back? I’m glad I did. I can revisit the past but I live in the present and it’s up to me to be in each moment. God is unchanging. He was there in my childhood, is with me now, and will be there through the adventure of each new day.

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