Sorry, Queen’s Wood.

We took the kids to Queen’s Wood at the weekend, for a bit of fresh air and a run-around.

Luke taught us a new game. Forty-forty-oh. It didn’t seem to make much sense when he explained it, but when we started playing it, everything slotted into place. It’s like a cross between Hide and Seek, and It.

I love Queen’s Wood. It’s one of my favourite places in London. Especially in the autumn or winter. And having a certain kind of mind (twisted?), I always imagine dark and macabre happenings taking place amongst the mossy boughs. Of course, I put one such happening in my book.

It was strange going there on Sunday. I felt a little shame-faced, as though I owed the wood an apology. Because, actually, it is innocent. The terrible event took place in my head, not there. And now, as the book’s release date approaches, I wonder what impact my betrayal (for it feels like a betrayal) will have when it becomes public.

Will the wood be over-run by hordes of literary tourists? I very much doubt it. And it wasn’t really that that bothered me. It was the sense that I had used Queen’s Wood for my own purposes.

I had the distinct impression that the trees had the hump with me.