On arrival, you relished how familiar it all felt. Coulsdon was always marinated in nostalgia in your mother’s accounts, and to your naive ear, it sounded like paradise (lost). Everything worked there, and the mail was delivered to the door! (She still keeps her mail order catalogues from 1986 to prove it). Since dusk was imminent, you rushed to get a picture before darkness fell, reluctantly foregoing precious views of the small, hilly town, a welcome respite to central London’s tree-less streets. https://lolwe.org/deep-afield/ Illustration: Mòje Ikpeme