Looking Back them Years Ago 42

This is The Beeches Farm where I was brought up, the house was built in 1862,  it is almost a copy of where I live now at Yews Farm, built in the1830's  (picture in the snow in the right hand margin)  , and note the dormer upstairs windows, and the lower roof.

 Just compare the two pictures, half a mile apart

A traditional farm yard with cowshed and stables on two sides of the yard and on the other side almost out of site is the lofts where the corn (wheat and oats) was stored for grinding.
Below was the mixing shed, the engine shed and the milking machine vacuum pump sheds, also a row of loose boxes for calf rearing and pig stys, all brick and tiled roofed building exept the hay barn.




When mother thought we were safe to leave alone for a couple of hours, mother and father went to the weekly whist drive up at the old club room, the Beeches farm was a few hundred yards  down the road from any other houses.

I can never remember our back door ever being locked, though the door had a big bolt solid with paint and not workable.

So you can imagine what went through our minds when we eventually heard the back door catch click and foot steps into the back kitchen.

 Looking Back them Years Ago

Looking back them years ago, when we were little boys,

We bumped our knees and elbows, and father made us toys,

Played around the farmyard, in and out the sheds,

Testing all the puddles, thick mud into the house it treads.

When at first we started school, father trimmed our hair,

Combed and washed with new cap, new shoes without compare,

Short trousers and new jacket, a satchel on our back,

We all went there to study, but often got a smack.

Times tables chanted every morning, and the alphabet,

Till we knew them off by heart, of this I‘ve no regret,

Isn’t till you leave school, that you realise,

How useful school and education, help to make us wise.

Father showed us all his skills, from very early age,

Studied Farmers Weekly, read almost every page,

The pictures they were mainly, of inter-est to us,

News and reports on prices, what a blooming fuss.

We also had the Beano, a comic for us kids,

Dandy and the Eagle, must have cost dad quid’s,

Him he had his farmers weekly, it must be only fare,

Mother had a knitting book, for inspiration n’ flare.

It must have taken fifteen years, till we felt grown up,

Left alone at home at night, parents meeting as a group,

In fact it was a whist drive every Friday night,

We supposed to be in bed, but sometimes had a fright.

An owl it hooted in bright moonlight, scared us all to death,

Door that blew in wind, with fright we nearly lost our breath,

Scooted up the stairs so fast, and under the bedclothes dove, (another word for dived )

In darkness we were frightened, it was for courage that we strove.

On hearing the back door open, it was never locked,

Foot steps in the kitchen, bedroom door we chocked,

Then we heard mothers Coo-eee, relieved to hear her call,

Have you missed me duckies, we bloomin have an all.

So our sheltered life was over, sometimes fended for our selves,

Mother learned us basic cooking, as long as plenty on the shelves,

One at a time we left home, with basic thing that we were taught,

This knowledge we’re to build on, foundations life not bought.

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