Discovering my old one-of-a-kind map has given me a nostalgia boost - Julian Norton

Along with a phone charger, pens, a packet of scalpel blades, one of those circular bits of cardboard which used to tell the traffic warden the time of your arrival in a carpark before ticket machines became omnipresent.

There was also a map. One of the old-school OS maps, neatly folded, it was by far the most interesting find.

Nowadays, sat-nav, phones and apps such as whatthreewords have removed any requirement for an actual map, but not so long ago, an OS map was as essential as a calving jack, a stomach tube or a stitch up kit.

When I first started veterinary work in Yorkshire, the area around Thirsk was right on the edge of two maps, which necessitated a double purchase – one of each sheet to ensure all farms and yards could be found.

As a fresh-faced new graduate, I was surprised to be told that I’d need to purchase my own maps.

They were just as important as the rest of our kit, and quite expensive. I’d be pretty useless if I couldn’t find my way around, I argued. Luckily, I didn’t mind, because I love poring over a map.

The map that had been languishing in our garage was one that marked a seismic advance in Ordinance Survey technology at the time.

I remember discovering that it was possible, for a small extra price, to have a custom-built map, with your chosen town in the centre, therefore meaning that only one sheet was required. You could even choose the photo on the cover!

So, when I started working in Boroughbridge (another town on the edge of two maps), I organised my special version.

I was excited when it arrived, almost eight years ago, especially as I’d used a photo of the front of the practice as its cover image.

Today, after I’d sifted through the other contents of the box, I settled down to study the map. I fully expected the villages, dales and hilltops, farms, becks and tributaries to bring memories flooding back.

Like an expensive whisky, this was not something to be rushed.

At the top left, Masham was the most notable place. The first few letters of Ripon Rowel Walk had been cut off just to the west. If ever I do the walk, I’ll need another map!

Due east of here was Thirsk, and, almost exactly, my house!

There aren’t many topographical features between these places on my map, but the most significant ones were the crossing points on the Ure outside Masham and the Swale half way to Thirsk.

At the north-eastern corner, Rievaulx just fits in, nestling, as it does, on the banks of the river Rye.

On most days, this is gentle and peaceful place, but many of us can remember when, in the summer of 2005, a flash flood rampaged down this river, flushing out everything in its wake and causing devastation.

To the bottom left, Stainburn was visible and, just to its west, Lindley Wood reservoir. Both places overlooked by Almscliffe Crag, one of my favourite places, where, thirty years ago, I climbed as often as I could.

The rocky protuberance supervises lower Wharfedale like a sentinel.

My favourite bit – although I’ve never been here – is called “Bohemia”, a few miles north-northwest of York. One can only wonder what happens there!

York itself makes its appearance at the bottom right, with Wetherby slap bang in the middle along the southern edge. There are too many stories to recount in recent years from both those places.

And even more from everywhere within those four corners. I’m glad Anne found my map!