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George Spenceley recalls his memories of training to be a farmer in Yorkshire in the 1940's.
It was my second day at Harley Castle farm and I'd still not found the toilet, I asked where it was. The old man smiling said, 'It's in the farm yard' but I'd already looked round all the buildings and hadn't found it.
Later that day after lunch I had to help with a very unpleasant task. Mr. Kirk took me to a shed near the house, he opened the door and inside was a box, the lid covered two round holes, this was the loo, at last I'd found it.
'This place is not for you its for the ladies' he said, 'and on no account are you to use it'. Green as I was I asked where's ours? He just grunted and said 'over there in the yard'. What a place, no electricity, no running water, no gas and no toilet!
He removed the front off the box and inside was a metal container with two handles, 'Get hold of it' he said, I dragged it out but it was too heavy for me so he took the other handle and we carried the foul smelling contents and tipped them on to the manure heap, it almost turned my stomach and for the rest of the day I could smell it.
I decided later in the day I'd get cleaned up and have a bath so when I was having my tea I asked if I could use the bathroom but was told no. 'How do I get a bath' I asked?
She took me to the wash house where there was a stone sink, a water pump and a brick boiler, there was also a wooden bucket and a tub.
'Right' she said, 'Your bath, get the bucket and fill it from the pump, fill the copper with the water, put some kindling in the fire hole and light it and when the water's hot enough transfer it to the tub. Make sure you leave the washhouse clean when you've finished'.
I picked up the wooden pail, which was very heavy and set it down below the spout of the pump, I worked the handle up and down, up and down but nothing happened. I went to ask for help but the lady in a terse voice told me that the only way I could draw water from the well was to prime the pump first, pour a small amount of water into the pump to cause a suction.
I filled the pail a number of times and emptied it into the boiler. I tried to light the fire but the wood was damp, I pushed more paper into the hole and tried to get it going by wafting a piece of card to cause a draught but it didn't seem to work.
Frustrated, I found a tin with some paraffin in it and threw a small amount of that onto the fire, it only made a lot of smoke but no flames. I bent down to have another go at blowing it.
I was at the point of giving up when I decided to have one more try, one more blow. Holding my head as near to the fire as I dared I blew hard and whoosh, the paraffin ignited sending a large flame out of the stoke hole, it singed the hairs on my face and burnt my bottom lip.
I shot backwards across the shed in total disbelieve, what a stupid thing to do. I still bare the mark on my lip to this day.
My morale by this time was very low and I thought of home. Anything seemed better than this lonely life. When the water was heated I filled the tub, undressed and wallowed in the hot soapy water for a good hour with my knees almost up to my chin.
Sitting bathing in a wooden tub was an experience I would remember for a very long time.
George Spenceley, 2002
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