Escape From Stalag 13

I managed to avoid having to use Tom, Dick - or even Harry (I don't think my girth would have allowed it).
Down past our own version of Angkor Wat and its tangled roots PD and I went, following the river, past the tree three  tortured  looking beasts until we reached the point where it meets the bleak, industrial  estuary.
It was here that the War Of The Worlds' carpet, determined to take over everything turned out to be green - not red.
The walls seemed to be everywhere and were closing in around us.
Neither of us really wanted to  have to try and survive on shellfish - no matter how colourful, so we had a slow wander beat a hasty back up the cliff face above those strangling roots and the gnarled old Yew trees dragging themselves up over the lip in their attempts to catch us - back to the relative safety of the car.
All we had to do was squeeze out past the metal beasts who had abandoned themselves all around us (assuming that we had been one of the numbers they had disgorged for function at the nearby church) and avoid the last  of the late comers throwing themselves down the narrow lanes with no head to anything in their haste to get to (what may prove to be) their (last) destination.