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The following memories were submitted by Paul Thompson, who was born in 1952 at the village of Humberstone just outside Leicester:
Having lived with granddad and then in rooms, mam and dad were allocated a brand new house on the Keyham Lane. Mam said when we moved in, the paths were all still cinders, there were fields across the lane and you could see Bradgate Park.
I think it was a bit of shock to mam as she had never lived in the country before, but to me it was the beginning of a love of nature and field sports.
Down the lane a bit lived a family called the Hills, in a cottage called Elmstree Farm Cottages. Pete Hill, the father, was the herdsman at Elmstree Farm, just to the back of the cottage, and I palled out with his son Paul. Mr Wellfoe was the farm manager who ran the farm for squire Pochin of Barkby Hall.
One day, Paul and myself plucked up enough courage to go up to the Hall and ask the squire if it was okay to fish in the pond at Barkby Thorpe. As the big front door opened I know my legs were knocking, a maid came to the door and asked what we wanted and fetched Mr Pochin.
The squire was getting on a bit but the maid was even older. To our dismay the squire said no the pond had no fish in it even though we had seen carp in it. Most of our fishing was in Barkby Brook, which held roach and some big chub if you could creep up on them.
We had some great times chasing rabbits and hares and also spying on the village poacher, whom I think sold the rabbits down the Windmill pub. Just across the street to the Windmill was the Plough, an old pub that two old girls ran. When it was pulled down they say that musket balls were found in the walls.
Our holidays were spent helping on the farm, and also digging out old bottles from the farm tip; I just wish I had them now. The bad winter of the early sixties meant we were snowed in for a while but we had a great time sledging down Chestnut Avenue.
The fields are all houses now, but the memories are still as strong. I wonder where my mate Paul is now.
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