The Healing Tree

BY DOMINIC WIGHTMAN Twenty yards from the end of the pitch there stands the tree where I paid my respects. On the branches of this tree used to hang tied up shopping bags full of dressings, pins, bandages, eye pads and tape. In the cracks in its trunk thereā€™d be a rusty pair of scissors, an old tobacco tin filled with waterproof plasters and that … Continue reading The Healing Tree