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The following childhood memories were recalled by Roy Scutt.
We stayed at a strange house for the next few days then I was put into the care of a schoolteacher and his wife, Mr and Mrs Beck. My mother went home and I was not to see her for another three years.
Mr and Mrs Beck were normal human beings. They lived in a house with a small garden. I ate proper food and slept in a proper bed. I even started school. I thought I had it made, but alas, it was not to be. This was only temporary accommodation and after about a month I was billeted on another farm.
There were about a dozen kids there but only 4 girls, 2 of whom were about 15. Once again I was the youngest. We all did similar work to the other farm but there was no killing.
We all slept in the house and although I remember the beds being very hard, at least it was dry and, unlike the other farm, I don't remember crying with the cold. We were not allowed in the house till it was bedtime so we used to spend most evenings in the barn.
It was only harvest time and milking time when work was compulsory. Other than that we were allowed to do pretty much as we liked, but school was too far away so we never went. We used to get up to mischief when we could but only things like riding the cows and trying to ride the pigs. Not many people know you can ride a pig. I missed 'Titch'.
On the farm next door, the owner bred racehorses. He used to let me help groom the horses and I would go there at every opportunity. About once a month someone would bring a mare to be 'serviced' by one of the stallions.
The mare would be taken into a large barn and one of her front legs would be bent up and tied. This was to prevent her kicking out at the stallion. When all was ready the stallion would be brought into the barn and he knew instantly why he was there.
Often I would have to make sure things were going into the right place otherwise the stallion could damage the mare. On one occasion he said I could take one of the horses to the village blacksmith to be shod. This was on the strict understanding that I was not to ride the horse but I was to lead it.
It was a good couple of miles to the village and I duly walked the horse all the way there. The way back was nearly all up hill. Surely it wouldn't matter if I just sat on the horse. I would get off before coming within sight of the house.
Why did I think there was no difference between a racehorse and a cow? I stopped the horse alongside a gate that was an entrance to a field. I climbed up the gate and gently slid onto the horse. The horse never moved. Without thinking I dug my heels into its side and within two seconds I was on the floor and the horse was disappearing.
Fortunately the horse knew its way home. When I got back to the stables I said I had tripped over, let go of the reins and the horse had bolted. I doubt anyone believed me.
Continued in part 6. Roy Scutt, 2001
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