for myself to ride to Guernsey and stay there until the end of June and I did what you had done, and it was not bad. But I could not get back to the farm (I think) so I stayed with my aunt in London. I went to school at St. John's College, Oxford, where I met many good friends and made some very nice ones too. We used to go out for walks together and sometimes we would stay overnight in a hotel or inn near the town. One evening we decided to visit a small village about five miles away from Oxford. It was called Blackmore's Vale, and it had a church with a beautiful spire that stood high above everything else around us. As we walked towards the village, we saw a large field full of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The air smelled sweet and fresh, and we felt happy to be there. We reached the edge of the village just as dusk began to fall, and the sky turned pink and orange. The street lamps were still off, but there was enough light for us to see our way along the road. As we entered the village, we noticed that most of the houses had their windows lit up, and people were walking out onto their doorsteps to greet us warmly. A young boy came running towards us, shouting "Hello! Hello!" and then stopped short when he saw who it was. He pointed at us excitedly and said, "Oh my goodness, it's you! It's really you! I can't believe my eyes!" Then he told us all about his day at school and how much fun he had playing with other children during recess time. He invited us to come over tomorrow afternoon so we could play games together. We agreed happily and thanked him profusely before saying goodbye to everyone else in the village. Then we turned back towards Oxford, happy hearts full of joy and excitement about what lay ahead of us. But before leaving, one thing struck me deeply: this little boy had made such a big impression on my heart that I wanted nothing more than to return again someday soon.