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George Spenceley recalls his childhood memories of Middlesbrough and how his large family coped with life in World War II and with the happy and sad events of family life.
The Coverdales lived on one side of us and one day John Coverdale and I were playing in the fields when we heard the noise of an aeroplane, it was further over towards Smiths farm.
It was flying very low just above the farm buildings and the engines were very quiet and then it landed in the next field to where we were playing. We thought that they could be spies.
We ran back to our house but found no one in so we ran on to tell John's Mam. She wouldn't believe us at first then she got her coat and said, 'Come on show me'.
Now Mrs. Coverdale was a rather plump lady and after a lot of huffing and puffing we reached the place where the plane had landed but there was a hedge stopping us getting to it.
We found a place with wooden railings topped with barbed wire and John's Mam hitched up her dress to climb over the fence, she was almost over when her undergarment got snagged on the barbed wire.
John and I started to laugh at the sight of his mother's pants caught on the wire, she was very annoyed and told us to stop messing about and help her. We tried in vain but she was too heavy for us, her pants were torn before she was free and didn't she vent her embarrassment on us?
To top it all by the time we'd freed her the authorities were at the plane and all the public were kept well away.
My Uncle Dick, like Dad and most of the other men, kept an allotment where kept hens and pigs. Waste food from a nearby factory gave him a constant supply of food for them but the swill as it was called had to be reheated according to government regulations.
Dick would empty the swill into a large boiler then put a fire underneath it and bring it to the required heat. It was then cooled before being fed to the pigs.
He also owned a horse and cart that he used for selling fruit and vegetables around Grangetown. To earn a little pocket money I'd go with him, walking the streets and shouting at the top of our voices about the various products we had to sell.
We'd stop at certain houses and he'd go inside leaving me to look after the cart and its wares and I tried to sell what I could.
That was a very cold job and I much preferred to help in and around the allotment. It was while helping with the animals that I decided I would like to make farming my career.
George Spenceley, 2002
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