The maps that matter

Whether they claim to lead us to treasure or merely to lunch after the third drive, maps don't just tell us where we are; they tell us who we are

- Janet Menzies

ASKING FOR instructions, the feed merchant's delivery driver said casually: “I don’t suppose the postcode’s any use?” Of course it wasn't, so I proceeded to tell him the real way to find our yard: “Turn up by the village shop and drive about 400 yards until you see a hedge with three horses’ heads looking over. Beyond that is the gate; just leave it there.” There are some places where no amount of sat-nav would have helped. On wonderful illustrated medieval maps an explorer might bottle out and simply draw some doodles captioned ‘Here be dragons.’ But this is exactly our destination. We want to go where there be dragons. Or if not dragons, at least stags in rut; partridge coveys; spate rivers.

That is where the maps that matter will take us, especially in our memories and our imagination. The fishing map, lovingly illustrated with trout taking the mayfly, captures so many idyllic afternoons. The hunt map pinpoints the exact location of your hunt’s one really serious hedge. Farm maps give historians extraordinary insight into ancient settlements, farming techniques and boundaries, as well as charming us with their down-to-earth place names such as Burrow Mump, near where King Alfred burnt the cakes. Shoot maps show the unimaginatively named Tom’s Hedges but memory supplies the vivid image of pheasants scorching terrifyingly high over your peg.