ABSTRACT
At the back of my house in Lancaster is a quiet street called Binyon Road. Off it runs an even sleepier cul-de-sac called Binyon Court. So silent and out of the way are these streets, so much of a miniature Land that Time Forgot, that they were the obvious place, a year or so ago, to take the stabilisers off my son’s bicycle and teach him to ride it as a two-wheeler. One cluster of houses in Binyon Road is known, for postal purposes, as Laurence Court.
