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George Spenceley recalls his memories of training to be a farmer in Yorkshire in the 1940's.
After a break in farming, I contacted the agent acting on behalf of the Y.M.C.A. regarding work back on the land and was offered a job at a small village near Bedale. When I arrived at the agents office the farmer was already there so we shook hands and exchanged greetings.
He was quite a young man in his thirties. He had a thin clean shaven face apart from the tufts of hair high on his cheek bones that he never shaved off, he wore a flat cap and a shirt without a collar and this was held together with a brass collar stud.
Mr Broadwith turned to me and said, 'I'm told you weren't very happy at the last farm you were on son, why was that?' 'Oh, there was a number of reasons' I replied.
'Never mind, I understand that one of your reasons was loneliness, if you come to work for me you'll be treated as one of the family. I can pay you £1.10 shillings a week plus your lodge and when I can afford more money I'll increase your wage. What do you think?' I said, 'OK, I'll try it'.
The farmer's name was Fred and he said, 'You'll be alright with us George'. He signed the piece of paper on the agents desk and after shaking his hand he turned and said 'Come on George there's milking to be done let's go'.
The farm was made up of a group of buildings, which were built of a mixture of brick and stone, the farmhouse was attached and covered in ivy. I was feeling very apprehensive as we entered the house by the kitchen.
It was hung with the usual sides of home cured bacon and ham, the fire range was very highly polished with black lead, it had metal hooks hanging down over the heated coals where various pans could be hung to cook food.
Covering most of the floor was a large 'hooky' mat made from old cast off clothing cut into strips hooked through a piece of hessian or sack cloth, most of the materials were dark colours, browns, blacks and dark blues.
Sitting in an old armchair darning socks was Fred's wife, Marjorie. 'Come on in' she said 'sit down there by the fire'. 'Marjorie will show you to your room while I see to the animals' said Fred.
As I entered the small room I noticed how clean everything was and how white the sheets on the bed were. Beside the bed there was a chest of drawers and a small piece of carpet on the floor.
I put on my working clothes and returned downstairs. Mrs. Broadwith held out a lighted 'hurricane' lamp and said, 'Here take this you'll need it as we have no electric here. You'll find Fred feeding the stock in one of the buildings'.
It was now dark and very cold, there was a biting wind. I tucked the bottom of my trousers into my socks thinking of rats that could be scurrying about and set off down the yard.
I passed the Dutch barn that was full of the harvest that had been collected and I could hear the sound of an engine running in one of the buildings. Opening a door I found myself in a very dark passage, there was a dim light glowing at the far end so I headed towards it.
Fred suddenly appeared and he thought it rather amusing that he'd startled me, 'Ah, I see you've found me' he shouted above the noise of the engine. The engine was driving a machine for shredding turnips and mangels (cattle feed) and nearby was a heap of unchopped mangels.
I picked up a fork and started to feed them into the machine, Fred placed an empty skip underneath and swinging the full one on to his shoulder he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
On completing that job we set about milking the cows. The milking took about an hour then we returned to the house for tea, I thought that wasn't too bad for a start. As Fred washed his hands he was smiling to himself and turning to me said, 'I see you tucked your trousers into your socks'.
'I was thinking of rats' I replied. 'Aye' said Fred. 'My brother came to see us a while back and after having tea and a chat we went round the buildings to look at the stock, all went well until he entered one of the loose boxes, then he froze and said, 'Oh my God'.
He grasped his side just above his waist, his face was ashen. 'What's wrong?' I shouted, 'Sshh wait' he replied and stood there for a long time clutching the top of his trousers. 'Right' he said and slowly releasing his grip he shook his leg vigorously.
Out from the bottom of his trouser dropped a dead rat. All my brother said was, 'It was a good job I had my Long Johns on. I couldn't let go until I was sure it was dead!'
George Spenceley, 2002
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