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George Spenceley recalls his memories of training to be a farmer in Yorkshire in the 1940's.
On Saturday evenings I was allowed to go into Northallerton but even though I was among crowds of people I still missed home, I was really home sick.
My wage at Harlsey Castle farm was one pound five shillings a week and this made it possible for me to go home every third weekend. After six months I decided that I'd had enough so I gave in my notice and went home.
The following week I took a job at Cargo Fleet in the Steel Works driving a crane. The lad who usually did the job had broken his arm and I was to take his place.
The crane I was to work on was known as a grab crane, it was about forty feet in the air and ran in front of the mill boilers. My task was to drive the crane along a track and check how much coal was needed in each of the bunkers.
Depending on whether the boilers were using waste gas from the blast furnace or coal from the bunkers determined the amount of coal required each day. It was a very simple job and some days it only took ten minutes but on others a couple of hours.
Most days there would be nothing to do and I found it very boring. To go to work and just sit in a cabin with a number of other men all day waiting for the time to pass wasn't my idea of a job.
The crane was very old and draughty and it often broke down, then the electrician would have to be called. There was an old man whose job it was to call someone for me, he emptied railway wagons laden with coal into a pit for me to remove, he was a nice old man but very deaf so he'd often look up towards me to see if I was alright.
The crane did occasionally break down and I'd have difficulty in attracting his attention, it was no good shouting for the boilers were so noisy it was impossible to hear over them so I'd take the fire extinguisher and squirt it at him, he'd then send someone to carry out the repairs.
If it was raining I had to just sit and wait for someone to realise that I was in trouble. After about three months the other lad returned and a problem arose as to who should do the job.
The foreman told me to carry on but the other lad wanted his job back, which was only fair. I said I'd leave but they didn't want me to do that so a decision was made. I was to do the work one day and the other lad was to do it the next.
This went on for some time, stupid as it was and it became even more boring so I asked for a move. A week or so later the foreman approached me and offered me a job on the coke-ovens, he said it wasn't a very good job so if I wished I could stay where I was until other work came along.
At home that night I told Dad about it and he explained to me what the work entailed. I'd be on the top of the coke-ovens and the job was to release the coal that had baked on the sides of the ovens, it would be very hot and dirty and there would be a lot of fumes to contend with.
He said that he'd never consider work of that nature and advised me not to even think of it so the following day I went into work and handed in my notice.
George Spenceley, 2002
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