Earlier this month, I spent some time in Kent visiting old friends. But as the weather was sunny and dry, my husband and I decided to go for a walk to see Chartwell House. This was once the home of Winston Churchill and now owned by the National Trust who charge a princely sum to view it. The walk started at the small town of Westerham and took us up a gentle incline, but on our way, we came across a small metal gate. A gate not connected to a fence. A freestanding gate, in fact. Why was it there, I wondered? Was it a gate that didn’t get on with the other gates, and had been told to stand in another field? Was it a gate that would only appear when strangers crossed the field; tricking them into taking the wrong path? If I had walked through the gate, could it have taken me to another dimension or back in time, or even sucked me into vortex from which I would never have returned? I’ll never know, because I walked straight past it (after stopping to take a photo). But I do k