Cloud cuckoo land

Above: Happy birthday!

Above: Groovy, man

The past always seems a sunnier place. We like to think that when we were younger we belonged to a nicer gentler environment – the sort of world where everybody knew each other, the vicar came by for tea and the local bobby kept order by clipping an occasional urchin around the ear.

And if one listens to those who grew up in the hills and valleys either side of the Fosse Way, nowhere was this idyll more pronounced than in Gloucestershire. Forty years ago the Cotswolds was, claim its long-time residents, more cosy than the television series Heartbeat. It was Aidensfield-in-the-Wold minus the crime and the dour Yorkshiremen.

In this corduroy and tweed paradise, post offices thrived and pubs were patronised by horny handed sons of soil. Buses buzzed about on a daily basis and the railway was cheap, ran on time and there was a working station within walking distance. The hospitals were staffed by fearsome matrons, doctors paid home visits any time of the day or night, policemen patrolled the village streets, the magistrate was a decent well-spoken cove and crime was limited to a bit of apple scrumping and the occasional drunken jape.

And of course there were, as I am constantly being reminded, no double yellow lines in Northleach, no pay and display in Tetbury, no satnav sending Chelsea tractors down the Coln Valley lanes, no McDonald’s in Cirencester, no Tesco’s in Stow-in-the-Wold, no weekenders in Charlbury and no immigrants anywhere.

This is, of course, Cotswolds’ cloud cuckoo land.

The world at large in 1967 was not dissimilar to today. The Six-Day War between Israel and Egypt had left the Middle East in turmoil. Africa was starving, in particular Biafra. We were fighting the cold war with Russia, there were anti-Vietnam war demonstrations in London, the environment was at risk after the supertanker Torrey Canyon spilt 100,000 tonnes of crude oil into the English Channel while teenage ‘mods’ were drinking and fighting. The Rolling Stones were arrested for drug abuse, foot and mouth disease had closed down the country and all racing including the Massey Ferguson Gold Cup at Cheltenham was cancelled.

Life was no picnic in the Cotswolds either. It was a class-riddled society that housed a handful of the titled, a few well-off farmers and an army of poor agricultural workers. The main industry was still farming and sheep, a local crop that had been in decline for centuries.

Electricity had only arrived for many a decade earlier, there was no central heating and the telephone system would have embarrassed Alexander Bell. 15 per cent of houses still had outside lavatories and few had tumble dryers or freezers. In most villages black and white television reception was poor (colour hadn’t arrived) and radio reception wasn’t much better. Entertainment was limited to Saturday night at the flicks or the amateur dramatics.

The main roads through small towns like Northleach (the by-pass wasn’t built until the eighties) were fetid and jammed and the M4 and the M5 didn’t exist. The railway that ran through Cirencester had been axed by Dr Beeching. Buses were slow and often broke down. The shops were thinly stocked, expensive (there were no cheap Chinese goods) and closed early. The staple of the food stores was Wonderloaf, tinned soup and powdered custard – ‘delis’ had yet to arrive in the sticks. The pub proffered gassy beer during strict opening hours (particularly on a Sunday) and rarely served food. If it did it was usually inedible. There were no restaurants to speak of, no coffee bars and no night clubs. In fact the only thing swinging in the Cotswolds in the Sixties were the cow’s tails.

Compare that to today. It is now possible to live in an idyllic Cotswold cottage that is not damp, cold and isolated. Underfloor heating, double glazing, satellite television, computers and the internet have improved life immeasurably inside our picturesque limestone walls.
And outside there is a hugely efficient local industry pampering us, including 24-hour supermarkets and retail and industrial complexes offering an extraordinary variety of goods and services. There is a rich seam of restaurants and bars, a host of different entertainments and convenient airports and good roads. Furthermore, global warming has given us milder winters (The Cotswolds was frequently snowed in) and hotter summers.

On this, the 40th anniversary of Cotswold Life, it is worth remembering that it is less than 50 years ago that Laurie Lee’s Cider with Rosie was published. The book that recounted the innocent joy of growing up in Slad also highlighted the grinding poverty of the Cotswolds. Laurie Lee said he was describing the end of a ‘a semi-feudal life’.

Half a century later, that life has improved beyond recognition for all but a handful of old-fashioned grandees who lived well on the backs of the toil of others. As for looking back nostalgically – it is merely Cider with Rose-tinted spectacles.

Do you agree or disagree with David Tyler? Email mike.lowe@archant.co.uk with your views.