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The following childhood memories were recalled by Roy Scutt.
We were standing on the station. I remember it being a very big station. It was noisy and people were bustling about in the steam, which was being constantly pumped out from the engine.
I did not really understand what I was doing there. Who were all these children and why did we all have these big labels on the front of our coats ?
'You are going to have a really wonderful time,' said my mother. 'It's going to be a really great holiday'.
Although she had already explained to me the reason she couldn't come as well was because she had to go to work to pay for this wonderful time I was about to have, did not make me any the less upset.
There was another little boy standing nearby who was also in tears. 'Come and talk to this little chap', said mum and she asked him what his name was. 'Albert' he snivelled. His mother then asked me my name and went on to say what a good time we were about to have.
A voice boomed over the loud speaker. I never understood what it said but Albert and I were loaded onto the train. There seemed to be hundreds of other children already on and all were pushing for a space to push their faces against the windows to look out onto the platform.
Some children had their mothers with them. Why didn't I?
Albert and I stood next to each other as we watched our mothers disappear. We were both still crying when someone told us where to sit. I remember a big woman with an even bigger fur coat telling us that everything would be all right.
The journey seemed to take all day. I had a small bag tied to a belt around my waist that contained something to eat. I can't remember exactly what it was but there was an apple and an orange. I gave the apple to Albert who hadn't anything to eat with him. At some stage of the journey a lady came along the train giving out milk and biscuits.
Then we were there, wherever 'there' was. We were herded out of the train and onto the platform. Someone separated all the mothers with children from unaccompanied children.
Albert and I were desperately holding on to each other in a sea of kids. A voice was shouting, 'Come on, come on. Line up, line up.' After much pushing and shoving we all lined up and stood waiting. I knew not what for.
From somewhere behind us some scruffy-looking men appeared. They were farmers. They walked along the long line of children picking out the kids they wanted. I never learned until much later that they could have as many kids as they wanted.
The conditions were, one boy to one girl. There were many boys bigger than we were so they got picked first. Albert and I were among the last to be picked and we were kept together.
It was not until we got to the farm that I saw how many of us were to live together: 6 boys and 6 girls.
We were standing in what was the main room of the farm. I remember it being big and cold, with an uneven stone floor, stone walls and a huge fireplace but no fire.
I desperately wanted my mum to come and take me home. Some of the children were still crying. A short stocky woman appeared. 'Be quiet,' she shouted. The children were still snivelling as she went on to say that the girls would sleep in the house and the boys in the barn. What was a barn?
Someone said they were hungry. Nobody heard. The farmer reappeared and led the boys to the barn. It was a very large, black painted wooden building which seemed to have no roof.
In the corner there was a large pile of straw. Where were the beds? We were each given a large Hessian sack that we were told to fill with straw. These were to be our mattresses. We were each given a blanket. The man left. I have no recollection of the rest of that day other than lots more crying.
The next morning it was still dark when the farmer appeared shouting for us to get up. He led us outside. In front of the barn was an open area of about 40 square yards that was covered in a mixture of mud and manure to a depth that reached well over my knees. This was known as the yard.
At that moment I never realised that I would be in it every morning. He pointed to a horse trough across the yard and we were instructed to go and wash in it. We had all slept in the clothes we had arrived in.
We walked around the outside of the yard and splashed our faces with the cold water. After that first day, whether you washed or not was of no interest to anyone.
'Breakfast will be after the milking ' said he. Milking? We all stood looking at each other. I was 6 years old. What did I know about milking. Albert held onto my hand. 'Follow me,' said the farmer.
We followed him back around the yard and out through the back of the barn and then across a field. In the next field there were what appeared to me to be a million cows.
'You round them up and drive them to the yard.' When you are only 4 feet tall a cow looks as big as a house and seems quite capable of eating you. We all spread out around the field and started shouting and clapping, half expecting to get charged at any moment.
We were soon to learn that the cows knew when it was milking time and they gradually ambled towards the gate, across the other field and into the yard. Our main job was to persuade the ones that didn't show much enthusiasm in being milked to make the effort.
In future this was to be the first job of the day and the eldest boy was left in charge. When all the cows were assembled in the yard they had to be put in the milking shed, 4 at a time.
It was called the milking shed but as I was to discover later it was used for much more unpleasant things and it was adjacent to our sleeping shed. As the cows needed some persuasion to separate we were sent into the quagmire to drive each 4 out.
Within the first ½ hour we were covered in manure from head to foot. When you are standing behind a cow it will quite happily crap on you, and when standing in deep slush it's impossible to move quickly, however, we soon learned.
Continued in part 2. Roy Scutt, 2001
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