This is PoppingJock, or rather, this was once PoppingJock before he got banished from his community and turned into a fence post. He’s got a lovely view over Abbot’s Cliff though; Jumpalina is to thank for that. PoppingJock was once a proud member of the Ancient Order of Kentish Karate who have protected the citizens of Kent since the time of earliest Doggerland. Like all members of the Order, PoppingJock was once a Warrior Tree who acted under the cover of nighttime to protect and serve the day creatures. During the day, Order members lived, and in fact still do live, under the hills of Kent. They’ve burrowed tunnels and great halls, which they reinforced with their dead. PoppingJock’s kin first came to Kent from the east via Doggerland in response to a call for help. Kentish day creatures were ruled over by two warring clans—the Blausters and the Rotters—who tyrannised
This is Rose, she is related to Deadloggosaurus, but is a much more modern descendant. She’s also considerably more benevolent than Deadloggosaurus, and is actually the gateway to the Land of Milk and Honey. You can find her on Holmbury Hill. The way to gain entrance is to present Rose with a jar of honey. If your offering is deemed acceptably delicious enough (tip: only present her with raw, organic, glyphosate-free honey), you will magically get pulled through to the other side. Don’t worry if you think you won’t fit through her gateway mouth, the magic will take care of that. You won’t get a scratch or a splinter, I swear. You should know that it’s only worth bothering to have this adventure if you are a dairy lover, as literally everything on the other side is made of it. Mountains of Stilton, sofas of brie, fountains of chocolate milk, etc., etc.
I found this absolute beauty when I was walking the North Downs Way near Etchinghill in Kent. It broke into my peripheral vision in the distance to the right of my path. At first, it seemed like a ghostly apparition, then as if someone had poured paint on a tree. It was only upon closer inspection that I found it to be this absolutely gorgeous, alive and undamaged, wholly natural pink and green. Without meaning any disrespect to any other tree I have seen (especially Harry, Isobel, the Dandag Sisters, Richard, and the yews), it was quite simply the most beautiful tree I have ever encountered. As I contemplated its beauty, I came to learn that this was the first time a tree had ever trusted me enough to show me its true colours. As I was to subsequently learn, trees are like flowers and come in a variety of colours;
These are called tree crisps and are a very rare find indeed. In fact, they’re so rare that I had to consult my Woodland Trust app to even know what they are. According to the app, tree crisps (or arbores calamistratus to use their proper name) generally taste of salt and vinegar. However, there are some varieties growing in the West Country which taste like prawn cocktail, and in extremely rare occasions in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, you may find tomato ketchup flavoured ones. I don’t know about that though, it sounds a bit far fetched to me, but then again, so does deep frying a pizza. The reason tree crisps are so rare is because they only appear to hungry travellers who habitually kiss trees. I wasn’t actually hungry as it goes: the tree mistook my fannying about taking random photos of Serious Pig rosemary cheese balls as a
I was a beech tree in a former life, which is why I am confident in asserting that this beech tree was once an elephant. I asked her if she minded being a tree, so far away from the savannahs and grasslands of her African home. She said she didn’t mind it so much, as a different kind of forest was also once her home. I am not so sure about that, because the forest spirit of Epping has mostly gone, and where it remains, it is angry, anxious, and in pain. So I wonder how much time the forest, and this tree, has left. I went to hug her trunk to show her the love I could feel she was missing. When I did so, I saw with utter clarity her life before this one on the plains. I knew then that, contrary to what she said, my suspicions were