Monday, 28 April 2014
Sunday, 27 April 2014
I had a conversation with me sen about money tuther day, and this is the gist of how it went. By the way I think I'm just about up to what's writ in the last verse right now
Saturday, 26 April 2014
Who puts it away with a tinge of rust now
|You always get plenty of advice at these ploughing matches there was upwards of 40 competitors|
Sunday, 20 April 2014
Blood runs back into me toes, me bulging eyes back in once more.
This is a copy of a letter/email to a friend of mine down the road who is recovering at home from a serious operation.
As you may have gathered, we haven't got much on at the moment, and a bit of time to bgguer about writing. As you must know when I had my op on my knees they for some mysterious reason they insisted I see a dentist, somatt ta do with a rotten tooth could make the metal in the joint reject. But John you must have been told this for what op's you've been throooo.
Before my op, I had never in me life sat in a dentist chair, or had anyone fiddle with me teeth, so I booked in at Castlefields Surgery dentist, pay a monthly standing order ca-chinnnnnnng, (their cash till) , and pay them a visit every six months. I have been there now twenty times in the last ten years and still they have done nothing other than scrape and polish. I have cleaned (brushed is what they call it) my teeth once before each visit on the morning of the visit (Nothing to be proud of according to Eileen, but then I call it sour grapes as she cleans her teeth two time a day every day and almost always has to have something done ca---chinnnnnnnng)
So I am getting to know my dentist quite well, for they know they only have to count them and poke round them, and find time to fill in the ten minuet slot allotted to me. She asked me (the dentist), as I think they are asking every customer, what is my experience or my views while in the dentists. (She will wish she hadn't). However when Eileen has to go back next week for TREATMENT on her teeth ca-chinnnnnnnng, I will send the following.
( in the dentist chair with a cup of what looks like weak ribena ta rinse ya mouth)
When you hear about the horror stories of people's visits to the dentist, it crosses my mind as what could happen if you really upset your dentist and what revenge they could inflict. So John I closed my eyes and this is what I envisaged.
Dentist, n.: A Prestidigitator who, putting metal in one's mouth, pulls coins out of one's pocket.
Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914)
Tuesday, 15 April 2014
Thursday, 10 April 2014
We had a fox that's crafty, and the hunt they could not catch,
|The North Staffs Hunt lawn meeting at Seighford Hall 1960|
This went on for couple of seasons, no other fox to match,
Gave them the slip every time, along the brook he walked,
Then back to Moor Covert wood, where he put up and stalked.
Over the years you get to know the wildlife on your own "patch" so to speak, the rabbits at one time, there was literally thousands about, with grass fields along side the woods bare of grass for a hundred yards out. And its no good growing kale or mangels anywhere near a rabbit warren, or try to grow oats or wheat unless they were a field or so away. Then Myxomatosis hit the rabbit population and brought then almost to zero.
Pheasants were not too a plenty, as they relied on what they hatched naturally. There was two older men who took the role of game keeper's, and they always kept the Magpies in check as they would take eggs and young poults, some times trapping them and often shooting them, and there did not seem to be many birds of prey about either.
There were never many Badgers about in them days, I've no doubt they would have been kept to reasonable numbers by the keepers.
Foxes seemed to be in good numbers with an earth in most of the larger woods, and an artificial earth in one of our smaller woods, this was always kept open when they were hunting when the natural earths were stopped.
At one time ( it was in the 1960's )there was a crafty fox that dodged the hunt for two or three seasons, he was put up from the Moor Covert wood, his wood, adjoining our fields. This was always the first to be drawn as it was near the railway line and foxes were encouraged to chase westerly direction into the heart of the estate land.
From a vantage point in the village church yard, you could see the top end of this wood, and often see from the distance when the fox had been flushed out, chasing across a field then through a small wood and on across two more fields. By the time all the hounds had started hollering and picking up the scent, the fox was a couple of fields in front of them and the hunt followers on horse back a fields distance behind the hounds.
After a half mile chase, this one fox always turned and headed for the back of the village and paddled along the shallow brook for quite a way then into the house back gardens. From there he turned into a direct route back to his own wood, this took him through the back of Church Farm where I farmed at that time, often going up the stack yard, but more than once came through the farm yard through the cattle and past me while feeding stock.
From there he went through the Church yard and along within twenty or thirty feet of the spectators who witnessed just what he was doing, then another quarter mile back to the Moor Covert.
The hounds lost the scent every time at the brook, and the huntsman was reluctant to let the hounds into the well cultivated gardens to try to pick up the scent again. After five minuets milling about the hunt gave up and went on to draw another wood.
On his outwards run the fox was lobbing along fairly quickly, but on his return run when the hollering hounds went quiet, the fox was doing little more than a slow trot. He would have not run more than a mile each time out.
This was repeated about three times each season, and for more than two seasons, it was thought he must have died of old age, or caught by the hounds inside his own wood, too slow to get away from them.
It got that spectators would talk to the fox, as he passed by them, and a good group go up there especially to see this old fox in action
Hunting has now been banned and no more meets on the village green, it was not too bad a mess on the turf fields where they chased when there were only ten or twenty horses, but towards the end when there was a danger of the hunting ban, it got up to ward a hundred followers. The hunt would encourage most of these to follow lanes and tracks, so as to minimise the damage.
While it was a good spectacle looking from the distance, what with the three or four red jackets and others meticulously turned out in black jackets and light coloured jodhpurs, and the horses highly groomed and newly shod, a greater proportion of then latterly had no idea of how to behave in respecting gates and crops. So thankfully the ban came about, balking the hooray Henry's and the hooray Henrietta's from gathering in huge numbers to parade the fields and tracks. I was always for the hunt and supported them over the years until the number of followers suddenly went up.
Foot print of people, the size of their feet, and how many, and where did they go. It's the same with vehicles with different size tyres and should they really be up there.
The prints in mud which we seem to have for a good proportion of the year, you notice if someone else as been up the lane since you went last, any fresh cattle foot prints, and which way did they go, and are they my cattle that have escaped. Without knowing you have become a tracker
The English country gentleman galloping after a fox- -the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
Tuesday, 8 April 2014
Sunday, 6 April 2014
Saturday, 5 April 2014
Milking machines just starting to get about, father was the first to have one in our district, he broke his arm and could not milk by hand for a few weeks. Loose housing of milking cows and milking parlours 1960's followed by the invention of cubicles.
Fertilizer in paper lined hessian sacks, then the plastic bags came in, now in bulk or large half ton bags.
Where will it all go by say 2060 and beyond.
You get much better at jobs the more practice you have, so while it may look a bit slapdash, it can mean the jobs done before the weather breaks.
Time and tide wait for no man, or so the saying goes, and if ya doing sommat while waiting for the breakdown man, ya may as well do it ya sen.