Blanchland, North Pennines Seemingly in a trance, the reptile lay outstretched on the road with predator bites near its head
When I was a child there was a sheet of rusting corrugated iron lying on the sunny bank of my grandmother’s allotment. If I lifted it quickly I could often find a slowworm resting underneath. It would lie there, startled by the sunlight for a moment, then glide away, like a flowing column of mercury, into the hedge.
I have been an inveterate lifter of rusty corrugated iron sheets ever since, but although they are well recognised hiding places for these elegant reptiles I’ve rarely been lucky.
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