Our native woodlands and the shy creatures that inhabit them feature heavily in British folklore. Filled with wood nymphs, spirits, goblins and sprites, long before Christian missionaries waded ashore, our forests reigned supreme. We have all heard the old stories of swaths of deciduous woodland completely covering Britain, a brooding misty isle that even worried the mighty ancient Romans. It was a strange unconquered place filled with the promise of mineral riches and mythical creatures, with monsters and witches that were said to lurk in the tangled woods and glades.
Having sold the family silver, our inglorious leaders seem intent on selling the furniture and garden, too. Eventually, they will realise there are better ways to cut this economic deficit we’re supposed to be suffering than to sell off bits of the United Kingdom to foreigners.