大象传媒

SCHOOL 1926

鈥淲hy was I wakened so early?鈥� and Mum replied, "Come on Thomas, it's school day",
"But it's still dark Mum" I winged.
"You have to be there by nine o'clock" said Mum,
"But why so early" I wailed.
Mum said, "Because I have to feed the pig and the chickens."
We had another little pig.
But I knew what was going to happen to it when it grew into a big pig.

I kept away more or less, but on the odd occasion I could not stop myself from scratching it behind the ears and it's little squeals of delight would remind me of the other pig we used to have.

So I tried very hard not to become too attached to it.
"And" my Mother continued, "When you get home we can find you and your sister Betty a little job or two to do.
I pondered this while my Mum was dipping a face cloth into the basin with hot water in it.
Then applying Lifebuoy Soap to the cloth she endeavoured to erase my features as she muttered, "I was going to wash today, but it'll do tomorrow", God, I only have one pair of hands" but the clouds didn't part and she got no answer.

And sometimes I would ponder on that subject, because lots of time I noticed people saying it can't happen, God is watching.
BUT IT DID HAPPEN.
So I surmised He didn鈥檛 give a toss.

I began to thing He must sit up there having a whale of a time, laughing his socks off as he turns to Gabrial and chortles, 鈥淟ook Gab, heres come another silly begger, now watch him beg, there he goes look, silly sod, ho ho ho!鈥�
鈥淪ome Mothers do 'ave 'em, he he he, and they live, don't yu just luv it?鈥�

Dad would get up at four o' clock in the morning while it was still dark to get the cows in from the fields in summer and milk them then feed them and clean them then return them to the field.

But in the winter time they would stay in their stalls all the time both day and night because of the cold and the grass would be covered by snow so they could not forage for food anyway.

When the weather got really cold in winter the Farmer would supply oil stoves and they would be lit at night till the morning to take the chill out of the air where the cows were sleeping.
I remember one winter was so cold the stoves were kept lit during the daytime.

Also their stalls, and once when I watched him milking I asked him, (I was a nosey little beggar according to my Dad,) "Why are all the places where horses and cows live white washed Dad?"

And Dad, with his head resting on the side of the cow he was milking, shifted the wad of chewing tobacco over to the other side of his mouth, and aiming at an earwig on the wall, he spat.

And it was just like watching a chameleon zapping a bug with its tongue.

Dad thought for a while then he said "A long time ago, mebbye 1600 or 1700 an' summat', there wus this 'ere bug wot y'uster ger inter the brick work an' a lot of 'ossis an' coos deed (horses and cows died)".

"Cos nubuddy knew wat were up wi' 'em app'n."

Then this eddificated fella cums up wi lookin' at pores in't bricks an' 'e sez, Theer y'are, it's them little buggers as lives in't bricks!鈥� coorse folk thowt as 'e were balmy like, an' some didn't tek no notice.
But some sed, 鈥淎h'm goin' ter white wash mah bricks an' t lime in it'll kill 'em all deerd."

"An yu naw wat, them as used t' whitewash niver 'ed another coow dee, or 'oss fer that matter, soer it wern't long efter all fermers used it, an' terdayer us dun't 'ev that bug not no moor".

A gold mine of information was my Father, he had been in the First World War but he never talked about it, not to me anyway.

But anything to do with crops or animals and the weather he was spot on, oh, and shooting, my Dad didn't believe in shooting some animal for sport, to feed his family yes, and if he already had a rabbit he would not shoot another that day.

And one Sunday he said to me, "Berrer tek a cooat with 'ee termorrer yungun, it's ofter rayen" (it's going to rain).
I looked out of my bedroom window that night and the sky was bright with stars, and the next day about midday it poured with rain, and it lasted two days.
Dad was busy at work.
Mum and I along with our Bet (Sister Betsy) had breakfast and then our Bet was gone, she liked to run to school on her own.

Mum said "You both go together, tomorrow onwards"
Grabbing my hand Mum half dragged me for a mile to school and left me there and I had a good cry but I soon got used to it but boy did I miss my freedom.
I hated the sudden restriction of having to sit all day at a desk instead of running free in the fields.
But my sister and I ran the mile to school and the mile home every day except Saturday and Sunday.
But my Dad soon put the kybosh on any slacking.

Now he had someone to help him with his Sugar beet.

Dad did this as extra work for the Farmer, and it wasn't long before we were both weeping over cracked hands due to the juice from the leaves and the icy weather in winter time was like torture in Hell.

Mum would plead "Don't take the kids out today Charlie" but Charlie was suddenly deaf, or would reply "Shut yer gob woman, a bit o' cowd nivver did nobody any 'arm".

Christmas was coming and after being cajoled by the teacher I decided to do a poem about St George and the Dragon.
We were going to have a Christmas panto at the school and every kid had to do something so I considered I had got off light when I saw some of the lads dressed up with wings on their backs.

There was no way, I thought, are you going to get me into that get up.
A fairy I am not.

So I practiced and remembered my lines, and my Mum helped me.

I had to make a sword out of cardboard, and I spent most of one Sunday making it.
I had scrounged a cardboard sweet box from the local sweet shop and having cut out my sword Mum got me some silver paint.

I painted it and it dried and I went out side and Dad ducked as I swiped with the sword and he smirked to my Mum, "That bloody kids gitt'n' dangerous, yu shure 'e's not part Injun, 'e bloody near scalped me"

Came the day.

After tea we all got ready to go to the school.
Dad lowered the wick on the paraffin lamp, shot the bolt to on the back door.
Then made sure all catches were on the windows.
When we were all outside he locked the front door with an iron key and put it in his pocket.

That house was like a bank vault but I still ponder the issue since there was nothing in the house worth stealing.

We tramped the mile to the school through the snow.
Mum and Dad in their Sunday best, and my sister in a pretty frock.
We all had our wellies on (Wellington boots) but we had other footwear in our school satchels so we could change when we got indoors.
All the village people were in the school room and it was the first time I had seen so many people together at one time.
There were one or two "Na then Charlie!" and my Dad would nod, and some would "How do?"

And Dad's stock answer to that was, 鈥淔air tu middlin'" or "Can't grumble", but if he was upset the answer was always, "Berrer in health than in temper", that was the time to go missing and keep one鈥檚 head down.

So after the big nosh up, tea and cakes, and kids being sick, and lemonade, and kids being sick a bit more, and ladies stepping in it and turning up dainty noses as if the kids had the black plague.

Some old dear with a bucket and mop would shoo every one away from the wet patch and with a lot of tutting and mopping would clean up the mess and disappear outside with it.
Finally all the pots and utensils were gathered up, and a couple of ladies folded the table cloths and took them away then a couple of stalwart youths grabbed the tables tops and took them into a back room then came back and removed all the trestles.

A group of blokes re-arranged all the chairs so now they were in rows facing the small stage that had been built at one end of the schoolroom, and soon every one was taking their seats and getting themselves sorted out.

Over in one corner a bunch of old blokes were sucking on pipes and remembering old times.
There was the usual buzz of conversation but this ceased as the M.C. strode though the curtains that looked like a pair of old bed sheets.

He began with "Ladies and Gentlemen"

Then he had to wait because two youths were arguing about who was going to sit next to the pretty girl in the pink dress.
Now everyone鈥檚 attention was on this trio.
And the two youths went very red in the face and sat elsewhere while the girl in the pink dress simpered and fluttered her eyelids while trying to look demure as about a hundred eyes glared in her direction.

As the hall became quiet the M.C. told everyone how pleased he was that everyone had worked so hard to get this Christmas party to this stage etc.

He went on a bit until he noticed a hand at the side of the stage waving a card that had written on it, "GEROFF".

So with, "Er, thank you for your kind attention" and lot's of sighs of relief from the audience, he departed the stage.

The panto started.

I was looking at the sea of faces from the side of the stage.
The voices droned on and on.
Then I thought someone had fallen off the stage and was wailing and in pain until I realised it was someone singing.

Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm and a voice whispered "Weere's yer sword young 鈥榰n
Then, "Yu'r on next".

Then there was a lot of clapping and a voice droning on and the hand holding my arm was guided me to the middle of the lighted platform and the curtain swung open and I saw all the faces looking at me and knew at that moment what a wild trapped rabbit must have felt like just before the snapping jaws moved in for the kill.

For a moment I stood there petrified,

" I am St George" whispered a voice from behind the curtain--------
"And my trusty----" The now urgent whispering voice almost snarled, so I began with my first attempt at Hollywood,
"I am St George" I warbled.

A voice from the back of the school room shouted, "Speak up, ah can't 'ere yer"

So I began again.
" I am St George" I babbled.
Somebody at the front said, "Ah didn't naw us 'ad two St Georges".
Another voice whispered hoarsely," 'app'n theer wus two dragins (dragons)an' all?"

The voice from behind the curtain whispered, "Ignore them, just keep going"

So I did, and I got about half way through when to my horror the sword began to bend in the middle, it must have got wet.

Holding it at a different angle only made it worse.

I talked a bit faster so I could finish the tale before the sword fell altogether.
Meanwhile giggling was rippling back and forth in the audience.

Being a youngster and pure of mind I was doing my level best to correct the situation.
And instead of looking at the audience my gaze was fixed on the slowly drooping sword.

Today being mature and a bit worldlier I can now see the humour of the situation.
Which in those days went straight over my head.
Cries of, "Yu not goin' tu do a lot o' good with that".

There I was ranting on about St George while trying to make the sword stay upright with my free hand.
As soon as I took my hand away the sword slowly drooped down again and someone else yelled "Ah got the same problem owd mate".

Blokes were writhing on the floor with tears in their eyes.
One bloke was trying to point at me and speak but he could not utter a word, he couldn't speak for laughing.

The big fat bloke next to him was crying with laughing and his tummy was jerking up and down so much his heavy silver watch jumped out of his waistcoat pocket and swung back and forth on the silver chain that was attached to the buttonhole in his waistcoat.
He looked as if he was in pain.
Meanwhile his wife was wafting him with her hat and trying to get him to calm down.

An old lady brought him a cup of tea and he took it but he was laughing so much the cup suddenly slid of the saucer and wet the bloke next to him who immediately had a go at him for being so clumsy.

They chose to settle it outside so the doorway became blocked, as some wanted to watch a fight while others were torn between watching the fight and seeing what happened to my sword.

However the fight turned into a farce as one threatened the other with dire injuries while dancing opposite each other but remaining out of striking distance.

The onlookers decided the panto was more entertaining and left the doorway and sat down again.

After the show I heard someone say "That bloody kid wi' sword were a reet scream, ah gor a ache in me belly from just laughin,' gawd, talk aboot laugh".

Another chap was discussing the act with a friend, " That act was damn clever and the lad was a natural, and getting the audience to re-act to the obviously doctored sword was damned clever, I wonder who wrote the script for that bit of hilarious comedy?"

When I looked round there were people with hanky's out wiping wet eyes, and "Best laugh av' ed fer a long time" warbled one chap with a huge moustache and bowler hat.

Most ladies were trying to look demure and now and again one would collapse with the giggles unable to contain the merriment any longer.

Two young ladies were clinging to each other while dabbing delicately
at their eyes with tiny lace handkerchiefs.

The first thing my Mum did when she got me outside was to check to make sure my trousers were properly buttoned up at the front.
As I stood there in the snow a man and woman came out of the doorway looking so demure but the bloke caught sight of me and suddenly lost his composure and burst into laughter while the lady dragged him away with her nose in the air.

Then we trudged home and it was snowing.

Because I was wearing Wellington boots they were chafing the inside of my leg.
But even at that tender age Lady Luck was smiling down on me.

A farmer was passing in a car and he stopped and gave us a lift and he asked "You the young lad with the sword" and I said "Yis" and my Dad nudged me with his elbow and taking the hint I warbled "Yis Sir" and my Dad beamed, and I felt like a trained budgie.
I felt like miming, "Chirrup chirrup who's a pretty boy then" but since I did not want to go through the rest of my life disfigured with a cauliflower ear or missing teeth I didn't.

Christmas morning I awoke and clutching my filled stocking I raced down stairs because I was cold and wanted to get near the fire, my sister was already there and Mum was busy making breakfast.
"Dad will be home soon as he has milked," said Mum.

I had a look at the Christmas tree that was made of two hoops of wood, one inside the other at right angles.
'These they were wrapped with coloured paper all frilly like, and baubles of glass and tinsel were added and all in all a pretty Xmas tree.

Glancing through the window I saw it was snowing again and that Christmas was different in that the snow that year was way over my head and the milk cart could not get to the railway station
It never occurred to me that the snow appeared not so deep because I was a bit taller since last year or perhaps my head was growing faster than my body or I was going to have a neck like a giraffe?

Dad had to dig right down the pathway to the toilet that was at the bottom of our back garden.
The toilet had a crescent moon cut in the door and the top of the door was like a pointy fence and there was about a foot space at the bottom of the door.

One did not have to knock to see if anyone was in there, because one just peeked under the door and one could see feet.
And there was always a good supply of newspaper cut in neat squares with a string threaded through to hang the assembly on a rusty nail.
The only thing wrong with this arrangement to my mind was when I began to read something interesting then had to ferret through all the squares to find the next bit of info, and my Mum would frown at me if I left the place untidy.

We also had two lodgers, one we called Uncle Jack Rickerby who worked on the farm
also.
The other was Big Tom.
He worked in the signal box down at the railway station.
I presume he was called big Tom because he was taller in stature than I was, so I was called little Tom.
I'm just glad my Mum didn't christen me Richard.
Then May the 23rd 1927 came round and I had a birthday party, I was six.

Tom Barker

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.