I have a kingdom

 

not too far from Penyffordd. The above photo is near a badger sett one of dozens I know. My MP Mark lives quite near. It is over 10 square miles in size and contains three small Welsh mountains, rivers, streams, woods large and small, fir and deciduous, a Roman road, demonic concrete gargoyles sitting on a wall. 

There are bridle paths and footpaths, quite a few local land owners have tried to destroy. Ordnance survey does not normally lie however. We also have our secret paths through woods that join up to the official paths. The above photo location might see humans once or twice a year. Idris a former local councillor used to plough the fields up here

There are ruined houses left to rot that would cost a fortune if planning was available. In the last century people used to die of cold up here.

A former chapel has five footpaths that converge to its door. Local people would walk miles across fields there and back to praise the Lord on the Sabbath. 

There are occasional visitors. The Bike Man a Scouser who has escaped the smoke and Friar Tuck who we think a secret naturist. Always happy to pass the time of day are they. Bike Man can be seen fast asleep under a tree in summer right in the middle of no where, not a care in the world, his bike propped up against a tree. There are the brothers who live on a hill, one an awful sad man who scowls if you park on council verges near his house. One the other side a joyful soul who has a dog called scumbag.

In my Kingdom foxes and badgers are left largely to their own devices. There are redstarts, peacocks, one type which are white, herons and Canada geese, ravens, magpies and crows, squirrels and rabbits, newts and toads.

At sunset you can hear owls and see bats. A large brown owl can be seen gliding silently over a large derelict walled garden built by a soldier exactly two centuries previous.  He would be proud of his legacy, huge beech and fir woods which he would never see in their prime. Perhaps less proud of the crumbled remains of his estate which has miles of delapidated stone walls which must have taken years to build.

During the day you can hear buzzards calling from the air thermals well above the forest. The roads are little used. Paradise and so it shall remain, a secret part of Flintshire that's much less traveled.