Here are some of the recollections of a boyhood spent in the Cotswold villages of sixty years ago, a life and times gone forever. No longer do the winding dusty roads echo to the sound of shod hooves and iron-tyred cart wheels, the call to the milking herds each morning and afternoon or the hustle and bustle of the fairs around the market towns, where stock and produce were bought and sold and farm workers hired.