This happened in Yorkshire in 1962 when I was 13. On my way back from school, I would often cut through an old orchard. I had never seen anyone there although I knew there was an isolated cottage nearby. I was making my way along the path when it was blocked by a big older man who asked me what I was doing on this land. I was a nice, polite middle-class boy and explained that I didn’t realise it belonged to anyone, which was true, but he was really rough with a strong Yorkshire accent and said that wasn’t