Wainman's Pinnacle...

There’s a folly, on a rocky outcrop in Yorkshire, that has sentimental value for me. Each time I pass Wainman’s Pinnacle, my thoughts turn to my dad, a down-to-earth Yorkshire patrician not normally given to flights of fancy. It was he who engendered in me a love of walking and wildlife, even though that came about almost by accident.

As a wee lad I used to grub around in the garden for whatever treasures I could find: stones, snails, worms, dung and the like. Amongst the more salubrious items were birds' feathers. With the optimism of youth, I would present them to my father for identification. Hoping to maintain his facade of all-knowing omnipotence for as long as possible, he would put down the Yorkshire Post at every time of asking and give me his undivided attention. Not bad for a man who, to avoid joining in a conversation at meal-times, would concentrate intently on reading the back of a Worcester Sauce bottle.

Knowing I would label the feathers for my collection, he tried to ascribe a different bird's name to each one. After the roster of sparrows and finches, however, he found it an increasingly difficult task. Which is why my little museum featured feathers that had come from such unlikely species as the Scarlet Ibis and Wandering Albatross. No matter. His feats of inspired guesswork left me with a lifelong interest in birds.

In terms of imparting fatherly wisdom, this was only the beginning. I must have been seven or eight years old when he first took me to see the folly. We stood on the rocks and gazed at the view. “From here”, he announced, portentiously, “you can get to anywhere in the world”. I was stunned: "What? Anywhere, dad?" "Anywhere", he confirmed.

The implications were staggering to a boy whose experience of life extended little further than house, garden and the nearby woods that witnessed so many games and adventures. I wasn't a street-wise child. Even when I decided to run away from home, piqued by a parental telling-off, my progress was halted by the main road that I wasn't allowed to cross. But this view seemed to suggest an infinity of possibilities. The world opened up, like the petals of a flower, as my youthful imagination took flight.