大象传媒

Time to go for my first job.
Cows - ugh! I remember there was a herd of cows which I was terrified of. We used to go over to the Town Moor [Newcastle upon Tyne] to the Hoppings and had to go by this herd.
Anyway, my first job was at Aydon White House in Corbridge. You had to get up very soon in the morning, have a cup of tea and go and help bring the cows in from the field and tether them up. When they were feeding, we used to scrape them down with like a big comb, take the muck off their tails and back end, wash the udder and squeeze a few drops of milk out to see if the cow was going all right, then, sit down and milk the cows. When they were finished, you let them out and then go for your breakfast. You had to put the milk in the churns for the wagon driver to pick up because the milk had to go away early in the morning before people could get their breakfasts.
I was quite lonely at the farm, so I put in for Stamfordham. The hostel for the Land Army was built on an open space, just north of the bridge, where the Grange Road flats now stand. The brick hostel was opened on 31st. Match, 1942 and closed seven years later in October, 1949. After the Land Girls left, it stood empty, but was then used by the Primary School. There were forty Land Girls living in there most of the time. There were cubicles, which held two bunk beds and a little dressing table. The warden was Miss Rodham, who was succeeded by Miss O鈥橰iley. The forewomen were Nora Mitchell and Nora Keegan. The girls cycled to the farms and for longer journeys were taken by lorry, driven by Terry Kemp. They travelled to Ryal, Ouston, Matfen, Belsay and other farms. It was good having company again and the girls were lovely. I am still in touch with some of them, even now. We went to all the farms right round Stamfordham, Ryal and all over the place. I was part of the threshing team: Billy Bell, Jimmy Bell, Tommy Tiffin, Willy Fenwick, Grandad Rutherford, Noel Rutherford. It was good working with the older men and the young lads; singling turnips, picking potatoes, feeding cows, milking, digging drains, cleaning the byres, pulling turnips in the winter, also joining in the social life.
There was pictures [films] and dancing in the old village hall, now demolished, dances at Belsay, Ouston RAF station and Walton. The army sometimes sent a wagon to pick us up to take us to dances. We had dances sometimes in the hostel and the village people were asked to join in. If we entertained them we used to make our own entertainment. Some of the older people would teach us to dance.
I remember Mary Oliver - she was the most beautiful singer. Mary became something of a celebrity owing to her musical talent. She had a good singing voice and was an accomplished pianist and she entertained the locals in the land army hostel. People loved the chance to listen to her sing. In fact she still sings at Ashington for the opera society. She was a beautiful singer, Mary. We had the time of our lives in the Land Army. I spoke to a couple of the girls last week on the 鈥榩hone. They said we had the greatest young lives but we worked very, very hard.
I wish some of the young ones now would even go the dances in the village hall. I had so much great enjoyment going to the Oxford Gallery, the Brighton [dance halls in Newcastle], all the lovely dances in the town and it was always just dance, dance, dance. We鈥檇 do the Bradford barn, the Eva two step, the Galloping White Sergeant and Strip the Willow, all these lovely dances. They don鈥檛 know how really nice it is to go into a lovely dance hall, hear the big bands and dance your heart out and just be happy to do it. Have a lemonade, five Woodbines, if you could afford them. We had lovely, lovely teenage years 鈥� hard ones, but really nice.
I鈥檒l tell you a story. Terry Kemp used to drive a wagon 鈥� it was a little one but with the open back so you could sit out the backdoor. One day we had been to a farm doing out work and then were coming home to get our dinner. We were coming over the little bridge at Milbourne and at the bottom of the bridge there was a big army wagon with prisoners of war in it. A soldier was standing outside the wagon having a smoke with hisgun over his shoulder and, of course, we went past them to go up the hill. All we girls shouted boos and what have you, not in a nasty way, just in a daft lassie way (which we were in those days!), and half way up the bank, the wagon stalled. Well, the soldier just stood laughing. The prisoners of war jumped out the wagon and ran up the hill, perhaps to give us a push, but we pretended we thought they were after us. We started screaming 鈥淢urder!鈥�. I don鈥檛 know what the people of Milbourne thought about it, if they heard it. I still laugh when I think about it. It was really funny 鈥� well, not funny really. Would you do that to prisoners of war? But to us it was just a joke.

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