I heard the crunch of the orange leaves under my feet as I trudged through the forest, full of vibrant reds and oranges. I looked around, glimpsing sunlight through the few leaves left on the trees. I turned around and saw a wall, that was covered in grafitti. That wasn't an odd occurance for England, but it was for Forty Hill. I rolled my eyes. How could roudy teenagers do such a thing to such a brilliant, lovely place? I'm a teenager myself, but I wouldn't do a thing like that.

 I turned my head to the left, and saw a brilliant field, surrounded by broken wooden fences. On that field were young lambs, and sheep, standing there doing nothing. I walked on, keeping my feet on the dirt path ahead of me. After a few yards, there was a turning to the left. I looked at the field again, once I'd turned, and saw a pig-sty. No, literally, a pig-sty. An enormous pig with floppy ears, and black patches was standing there, his head bowed as if he was ashamed of himself.

 I walked on, and saw that to my right was a red brick wall. It looked new, but I noticed that the bricks were faintly worn down. Ahead of me, there was a little doorway. I walked through that, and came into a beautiful garden. It looked as if it had been built for a Queen- well, it was built for Henry VII when he lived in Forty Hall- there were red roses, and beautiful tulips and a little stone pathway leading toward another doorway. When I got through, I looked to my left, and saw a little café, which was hardly noticable standing next to a beautiful mansion. Forty Hall.

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