I was aged about 11, and had set out in the morning on a golf ball recovery mission through the woods which surrounded the fairways near to where I lived at the time.

After doubling back on myself a couple of times I lost my bearings completely.

Fast forward several hours, and I emerged rather sheepishly from the woods somewhat wetter and muddier than I went in. But I was smiling, I had climbed trees, leapt over streams and not seen another soul all day.
I got home and nobody batted an eyelid. I chose to keep the events of the day to myself.

But I often think of that day during autumn half term, not least because I can't help feeling this time of year is not quite as fun as it used to be.

We would ride our bikes or kick a football until it was pitch black and I'm not sure children today are allowed to. Instead I see conkers being banned from the playground by health and safety fascists, neighbourhood watch groups dishing out anti-trick or treat posters and firework displays being cancelled because organisers can't afford the insurance.
What a shame our society is ruled by fear.

Our children have no fear and our first duty is, of course, to protect them. My point is that we seem to have gone too far the other way and it's to their cost.

With the best will in the world, some of our priorities are now lost like a little boy in the woods.

My friends and I fell out of apple trees, we smashed windows with cricket balls, we broke our arms or got into fights – and we are all the richer for it.