LIFE ON THE FARM

Farms are a great place to bring up children. Whilst one might dwell on the interface with nature I think that the crucial dynamic is the association with animals : horses ,cows sheep , dogs , hens , turkeys , etc. Even the feral cats had their role to play in hunting rats . All these aninals have their have their characteristics . Some are more intelligent than others . They can be obedient , bad tempered ,  stubborn , fierce and affectionate . I am confinced aninmals have a sense of humour .  Am I explaining my my thoughts badly but it seems to me George is part of  one family and Rosie about to be part of another.

Not all species are friendly  to the farmer. One of the few poems I remember is An Ode to the Scarecrow.

                    I lift void eyes
                    and scan the sky the skys
                    for crows , those raving foes
                     my of my strange master man  

As man evolved it his relatiomship with the horse that is probably the most amazing from the mighty Bucephalus to the humble pit pony . The invention of the stirrup changed warfare .

I digress . In the early days at The Muir Wilma and I were the two " little indians " and Margaret was the " big chief ". She organised us in many pursuits mainly to do with horses . Nothing as dynamic as Harry Potter but nevertheless exciting .Despite the odd thump and irritating teasing I am ever grateful to Margaret for it is she who taught me to ride a bicycle , stay on a horse , drive a tractor and once saved me from drowning at Cumnock Swimming  Pool when I got out of my depth .

Margaret initially had a pony called Billy which she broke in herself . Later she had a proper horse , Freka and Wilma inherited Billy. When Wilma & Margaret were away I would take out Billy on my own . He was stubborn . As you headed away  from the farm he would go  at snails pace like "the whining school  boy , with his satchel , And shining morning face ,creeping like a snail Unwilling to school ." When you turned his head for home he went like a bat out of hell.

I used to get teased mainly by Margret but also by some of Uncle John's workers about being a " gleska kellie ". This was a rather derogatory term but part of the banter between country folk and urban dwellers . As it did get me down a bit I sought my mother 's  advice on how I might respond to this teasing .She foolishly suggested I could respond with " If I am a Gleska Killie you must be Country Bumpkins . "

At a crowded lunch table I responded , like Oliver Twist , with this riposte.Aunt Margaret went apoplectic. I learned to curb my tongue . However, the teasing did abate perhaps Aunt Maggie had a word .

If I were cynical  you could say that Aunt Margaret and Uncle John "Were going their Christian Duty " in having this poor relation to stay. That would be partially true but a bit unjust . They were really good people. I hated going home at the end of the holidays. I think I secretly wanted to be adopted so I could stay on the farm .As I got into my teens this aspiration became less intense. I think with Rugby, Cadets,Scouts and friends at School there was more to look forward to on returning . The urban child is more street wise in a broader sense perhaps more advanced than the one brought up in the country. I some times wonder what I would have done during those long summer holidays if I had not gone to the farm. I could have gone feral.

Dorothy did, early on, come out with me to The Muir but with all her allergies she could not be near cattle . I was worried that when my mother came to take her home I would  have to go also. Fate decreed otherwise.

As we got older Marget took a more active part in the harvest , working the horses and driving the tractor . Wilma and I had to invent our own games . We did take on some of the more mundane tasks like gathering dokins for the turkeys ,feeding the hens and taking tea and sandwiches out to the workers in the field . Still there was time to fantasise playing Princeses and  Gallant Knights in the hay loft .

I remember large family gatheringrs on a beach in Girvan. There must have been 40 at these picnics. Somehow I think television killed these sort gatherings.

The months of June through to Sept were a busy time on farms as first the hay was harvested and then the corn ( oats). A working day would frequently be from 5am to 8 pm. . I often wondered  if Aunt Margaret and Uncle John ever had a social life. In less busy months they would go to dances, the Races at Ayr and in later life a cruise in the Mediterranian. However , the highlight was meeting another farming family !

At the end of the War there were a lot of displaced Poles in Scotland . When Russia & Germany attacked Poland in 1939 many escaped . They faught against Germany in many different ways. There was a Polish Spitfire Sqn which faught in the Battle of Britain ,  Polish troops played a major part in the capture of Mount Cassino in Italy and a Polish Parachute Brigade dropped at Arnhem.  There  were also Polish Troops at Tobruk fighting alongside Jack's Great grandad. It is estimated  that in Scotland there are 40,000 people of Polish extraction. I have just discovered that in the 17th century 40,000 Scots emigrated to Poland to avoid religious persecution.

In the 1940s and early 1950s there was a large camp of displaced Poles at Maybole in Ayrshire. They were delivered out to farms by truck . I remember one called Wassel. He must have been a young man in his mid twenties. He was shy reserved and exceptionally polite.He had been in the Polish Cavalry. It is a myth that Polish Lancers charged German tanks. One day Margaret persuaded Wassel to get on her horse Freka. He relucantly agreed but once on it was obviously  at home in the saddle . It was as if he had captured a lost sense of dignity and pride.

Jack, Granpa does bang on bit but so do you .

As kids Magaret would take us on the bus to the swimming pool in Cumnock. In our teens , when Margaret got her driving licence, we went to the Ice Rink in Ayr an to Young Farmers Gatherings . At one of these gatherings there was a cattle judging competion .You were given a card and had to score different cattle according to their merit.I simply did not have a clue nor do I suspect did Wilma . However by looking / peeking over other peoples shoulders I almost won . It would have been a total disaster as you had to stand up and explain why you had chosen this cow to be the best--lesson learnt--stick to the West Point Honour Code Jack it is safer. 

In my teens I did spend quite a lot of time with Uncle John helping with those endless tasks which have to be done to keep a farm functioning . We would clear out woods and plant a new one; at the saw mill make fencing posts, scramble over roofs replacing slate tiles, go out and count the sheep to make sure they had not been poached by the local miners or tinkers.

He once took me to a cattle auction in Ayr. I remember the pantomine when a piglet escaped.They are incredibly strong and difficult to catch. Reminds me of Orwells Animal Farm.

When Margaret left to go to Agricultural College I took on most of her jobs and for the last three years became a tractor driver . This was great fun and I felt I was doing something in return to pay back my Aunt & Uncles generosity in looking after me in childhood.

However, I knew farming was not in my bones . Although a good and sometimes rewarding life it seemed somewhat bereft of intellectual stimulous. I wanted to see the World and be challenged .