Why didn't I listen more carefully to John's wonderful stories of his life? I do remember telling John that he should write them down having been entertained by his childhood memories as we sat in his lorry on the way back from Yeovil Market. For those of you that know better my apologies if I have not got them quite right.

     In his early childhood grazing and milking cows that were kept on the road verges, the farmer who enjoyed a tipple being taken back home by his faithful horse while he slept in the cart, the horse would stop at each pub on the way back. John, as a boy, cycling down the Racedown Hill and been terrified when Bryn Studley's (Tony Studley's grandfather) bull burst out onto the road. This bull had a dangerous reputation and had had a go at Bryn amongst others. Bryn had made him an iron mask with the emphasis on eye covers so the bull could only see straight ahead, the sight of this bull stuck with John all his life.

     John loved the cattle markets, the animals and the people. Hauling cattle to market is a stressful business for the haulier, he usually has a number of farms to pick up from, the character of the cattle and the farmers varied and they have to deliver the cattle to the market by a given time so the cattle can be sorted, numbered and viewed by potential buyers. Many a dark winters morning we would meet up at a somewhat rickety pen and the loading did not usually go smoothly, some refused to move, some shot into the lorry and then charged out again not to mention those that simply escaped and ran off across the field. John, always kept calm and was gentle with the cattle while still getting them loaded properly. He was patient but determined both with the cattle and the farmers. When I made mistakes or simply did not know something he would give me valuable advice with no sense of mocking at either my ignorance or my mistake.

     John had some long term health issues which he coped with very well, no mention of them, no complaint this is the more remarkable given the hard nature of his work and the long hours involved. He was always welcoming, steeped in countryside knowledge and unassuming. The world is changing fast and there will be no more men like John who was part of the landscape he lived in, he will be much missed by many of us.

                  Ross Dickinson