I was born in 1978. My family and I were created to honour our new town: a town of opportunity and freedom, balance and variety; a place of beauty where people from all over would come and visit. Our mother, Liz, took great care and attention in our conception. She was meticulous, ensuring we would be memorable.

When we were first given a home, we couldn’t have been happier. Standing in the field, we watched trains as they dashed towards their destinations, occasionally emitting a burp of noise. The air was pleasant, and visitors often stopped by to take our photograph and admire our physique.

But not everyone who passed our way was kind.

Our first unexpected encounter resulted in our distinguished black and white exteriors being painted pink. Looking like lumps of blancmange, people laughed at our ridiculous appearance. Personally, I didn’t mind my new makeover and thought I looked quite fetching, but we were quickly redecorated and returned to our familiar colours. On another occasion, we woke to find ourselves dressed in pyjamas. Most of us welcomed the addition of clothing as the winter frost bit at our tails.

But then came the night of misfortune.

They came in the early hours. As the sun settled below the horizon, they crept into the field unnoticed. The youngest of our herd gave a whimper. Waking me from my slumber, I opened my eyes to see the shadows of four surly figures. Throwing a bag over my head, I was lifted and placed onto what I can only assume was the back of a lorry. They giggled and snorted as we made our way along the grid system. With each twist and turn as they took roundabout after roundabout, I felt nauseous. I didn’t know where I was or what would happen to me, and rumours in the area had surfaced recently of a Satan’s Layby! These were not safe times.
When we finally stopped, I was as still as concrete. Their voices drifted towards me and then away as they left me on my own. As dawn arrived, and then night, and days turned into weeks, I feared I would never be found.

When my rescuer finally came, and returned me to my family, I was filled with such joy I smiled from ear to ear. In the years that followed, we got rehoused in the shopping centre. It didn’t offer the freedom of the outdoors, but we got to meet a lot of friendly people. And now we’re living in the museum, we’re over the moon!

Forty years on and our family has grown considerably. There are now a huge number of us scattered around the world. But our hearts will always belong to this town of adventure, creativity and hope. Because you might be able to take the cows out of Milton Keynes, but you can’t take Milton Keynes out of the heart of the cows.