"But these were not the 'good old days' – because such days never existed – not until they were winnowed out from the whole crop of days. Under pressure, I remember too that hacked hands bled, that Grandmother was nearly killed by a cow, that hoeing nearly broke your back and that lifting swedes in a cold wet November was a kind of purgatory comparable only to service in the salt mines.

But when honeysuckle perfumed the evening air, when skylarks sang or plovers flew above the harrowed earth, we understood why there had to be such delights. Why some things were remembered and others forgot."

Paraphrased from Ian Niall's 'To Speed the Plough' and as used in 'This Farming Life.' Shame on you who want people to not remember the good bits! - it is all part of coping with the bad bits. (But I can't help agreed with any criticism of contemporary false sentiment).
TomB