I remember a couple of pigs were kept in the old barn (before it was repaired recently) on the bend of Jawbone Lane. I went with Sid Gray at feeding time and remember him mixing vegetable peelings and grain around in a bucket with his massive hands. The grunting got louder until the swill was finally poured over the barrier into the trough and there was a right scramble to get at it.
I remember riding along the bumpy tracks on the tractor, sitting on the wheel guards and holding on for dear life. Health and Safety hadn’t come into force at that time.
My mum often went ‘pea getting’ which meant pulling up pea plants out of the ground and standing whilst all the peas were pulled off the plant. We made walls out of the straw stalks to make dens. This was where I got close up and personal with beetles, caterpillars, centipedes and daddy long legs.
The smell of beetroot cooking in large baths wasn’t the best smell in the world. Once cooked the skin was removed from the beetroot by hand by squeezing it. – it was called ‘screwing beetroot.’
Before the days of taking your own flask, tea was brought on to the field for refreshment by Mrs Collyer. It was made in a tin container – hot and sweet and the best tea you have ever tasted. Sometimes the youngsters danced a jig to hurry its’ arrival.
Strawberry getting was a summer crop and they were grown at the top of Jawbone Lane near Main Street, Kings Newton. They tend to stain, and we did eat a fair few, so we probably gave the game away. Strawberries don’t keep, so once picked they went straight to market.
Picking stick beans was another hard job, picking just the ones that were ready and leaving the others for another day. Surely working with them all day a few would be nice with your dinner. On this occasion the boss came and said, “Do you fancy a few beans?” At the same time he opened their bags to pop a few in. Whoops! there was already some there!
Radish getting was hard work also. You were on your knees and had to pick bunches all of a similar size and put an elastic band around them. It didn’t half hurt when you were trying to be quick and the elastic band broke!
When I was a bit older, I remember going to see my mum and Stella Jackson working in a little old shed. It has now gone. The gardener picked the brussels out in the fields and tipped them on to the work top. They were then trimmed with a knife ready for market. Being a winter veg it was cold work, often frosty and there was a fire in the shed. You’d just about got to the bottom of the pile and another load would come in from the fields. – a bit like the Forth Bridge!
Holiday work on the land
As a teenager in Melbourne you could always get a holiday job on the land to earn a bit of money. I can remember picking gooseberries at The Butts on Cockshut Lane. You soon learned how to carefully get your hands into the bush, or gingerly pick up a branch, in order to avoid being scratched too much.
Being shown into a huge field and put to work hoeing was quite daunting. The rows were never ending and time went by very slowly.
Getting sprouts for 7 hours a day was probably the hardest job as you were paid by the bin full – about dustbin size. If the men felt sorry for you they would rip a few sprouts off to fill your bin. This was before decimalisation. I can’t quite remember how much the pay was per bin, but not much at all.
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