Abstract
The rural calm of Hertfordshire has persisted for centuries in spite of its proximity to London, in spite of the railways, the Great North Road, and, more recently, the Ml, all of which dissect it on their way to Scotland and the north. Miraculously this intrusion and all the development that has taken place appear to have left Hertfordshire's peace almost undisturbed; indeed rather less disturbed than when Dick Turpin frequented Ermine Street.
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