The quaint names of lovely rural England draw you to them, late on in a fresh summers day as the mind wonders on your long sleepy journey through the English countryside. Little Missenden, Walters Ash, Handy Cross, Wiversfield Green, their spires and chimney tops inviting you to turn down the lane, slow right down and call in, to stretch your legs and take a nice pot of tea, and a home baked scone.

Your mind imagines what you might be missing as you drift pass signs for Uckfield, Bourne End, Blackboys; and has tickled thoughts of what goes on at Lower Dicker, and if it’s any more exciting over at nearby Upper Dicker.

But there’s a place in England you will never reach; a mystical haunt that moves through the mists and bare dark dank looming branches of the wintry English country lanes. It comes and it goes, sometimes vanishing by the time you head for home. No one has ever been there, but everyone has seen the sign, and wonders on the ghostly goings on in Loose Chippings.