Out on the half mile stretch of road on the heath leading up to the village, bright yellow rubber gloves on and hauling rubbish bags, I am picking up litter. Towards the end of the work, a car pulls in by mine, already loaded with two full bags. Chap steps out.
“Community service?” he says.
“Nope. Voluntary.” I reply.
A look of utter perplexity overwhelms his face, and he is lost for words. After several moments of awkward silence, he manages to form his thoughts. “Excuse me, but… why?”
A smile crosses my face. “Because I love this place.”
The look of incomprehension has not left his face. Another pause. “Nick ****. Local Wildlife Trust Manager. And you are?”