The rural landscape of John Phillpott’s boyhood has changed irrevocably over the last half-century. The elm - that celebrated ‘Warwickshire Weed’ of folklore - has been lost to disease, urban sprawl continues apace and motorways now disturb the tranquillity of fields that once knew only the sound of cattle, birdsong and the rumble of the farmer’s tractor. But paradise lost? Not quite, because the river flows on through the valley as it has done for millennia, the rook ‘parliaments’ can still be seen high overhead and the bells of the church that has stood on the hill looking out over the Swift Valley for a thousand years still call out to the faithful. Beef Cubes and Burdock is an affectionate glance over the shoulder back to a time when the pace of life was still dictated by the rhythm of the seasons rather than the touch of a computer keyboard.
