The New Forest felt particularly old, today; and parts of it decidedly ancient. Still, it would most likely outlast me.
In thirty or forty years time I would probably be buried deep or burnt to a crisp; whilst the forest would just be a little older, a little less sentient.
How morbid, I thought. But, realistic, I added. These trees have been here for absolute ages; some, for centuries – and the forest as a whole unbroken since William caused it to be planted. New it was then.