SCHOOL
Why was I wakened so early?
Mum said, "Come on Thomas, it's a school day,"
"But it's still dark, Mum!" I whined.
"You have to be there by nine o'clock," said Mum.
"But why so early?" I wailed.
Mum said "Because you have to feed the pig and the chickens."
We had another pig, and because I knew what was going to happen to it I kept away more or less,
but on the odd occasion I could not stop myself from scratching it behind the ears. Its little squeals of delight would make me want to cry, so I tried very hard not to become too attached to it. By the way I had another baby sister, (Audrey)."And," my mother continued, "when you get home we can find you and your sister Betty a little job
(chore) 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. Sometimes I would ponder on that subject,
because lots
of times I noticed people saying, "It can't happen, God is watching." BUT IT DID HAPPEN. I started to think he (God) must sit up there having a whale of a time, laughing his socks off as he turns to Gabriel and chortles "Look, look, Gabe, here comes another silly bugger. Now watch him beg, there he goes, look, silly sod, ho ho ho ho. Mothers do 'ave 'em, he he he--ha ha ha, don't yu just luv it!"My Dad would get up at four a.m. to get the cows
in and milk them, feed them and clean them,
and also their stalls, and once when I watched him milking I asked him (I was a nosy little bugger according to my Dad), "Why are all the places where horses and cows live whitewashed Dad?" 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. It was just like watching a chameleon zapping a bug with its tongue. He thought for a while. Then he said "A long time ago, mebbe 1800 an' summat' (something), there wus this 'ere bug wot
y'uster ger inter the brick work, an' a lot of 'ossis an' coows deed (horses and cows died) cos nubuddy knew wat were up wi' 'em. Then this fella cums up wi lookin' at pores in't bricks an' 'e ses, there y'are, it's them little buggers as lives in't bricks. Coorse folk thowt as 'e were balmy like, an' some didn't tek no notice, but some sed Ah'm goin'ter whitewash mah bricks an t' lime in it'll kill em all. An' yu naw wat, them as use't whitewash niver 'ed another coow dee, or 'oss fer that matter, soer it wern't long efter all fermers used it, an' terdayer we don't'ev that bug, not no moor."A gold mine of information my father was, he had been in the First World War, but he never talked
about it. 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.And one Sunday he said to me "Berrer (better) tek a cooat with 'e termorrer yungun,
it'ofter rayen
(it's going to rain). I looked out of my bedroom window that night, and the sky was bright with stars. The next day about midday it poured with rain, and it lasted two days. Dad was busy at work, and 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 ( from now on you will both go together to and from school)." Grabbing my hand, Mum half-dragged me for a mile to
school and left me there. I had a good cry
but I soon got used to it, but boy did I miss my freedom. My sister and I ran the mile to school and the mile home every day except Saturday and Sunday. My Dad soon put the kybosh on any slacking, because now he had someone to help him with his
sugarbeeting, which he did as extra work for the farmer. It wasn't long before Bet and I were both weeping over cracked hands due to the juice from the sugarbeet leaves, and the icy weather in winter time was like torture in Hell. My Mum would plead, "Don't take the kids out today, Charlie," but Charlie was suddenly deaf, or would reply, "Shut up woman, abit o'cowd niver did nobody any 'arm."Christmas was coming and the teacher browbeat me into reciting a poem about St. George and the
Dragon. We were going to have a Christmas pantomime (play) 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. I spent most of one
Sunday making this sword. 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 outside and Dad ducked as I swiped with the sword. He smirked to my Mum, "That bloody kid's gitt'n' dangerous."The night came, and we all 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 wellies (Wellington boots) on, but we had footwear in our satchels so we could change when we got indoors. All the village was in the schoolroom and it was the first time I had seen so many people together
at
one time. There were one or two who said, "Na then Charlie," and my dad would nod, and some would say, "How do yu do?" Dad's stock answer to that was, "Fair tu midlin'" 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 your head down. So after the big nosh up, tea and cakes, and kids being sick, and lemonade, the panto started. I was
looking at the sea of faces from the side of the stage, when a hand grabbed my arm and a voice whispered "Where's yu sward, yu' on next?" Then there was a lot of clapping and a voice droning on, and this hand guided me to the middle of this platform, and the curtain swung open. I saw all these faces looking at me. "I am St George," whispered a voice behind the curtain, "and my trusty . . ." So I began with my first
attempt at Hollywood. "I am St. George," I began, and a voice from the back of the school room shouted, "Speak up, Ah can't 'ear yer!" I started again. "I am St. George. . ."
Somebody said, "Must be twins."
The voice from behind the curtain whispered, "Ignore them, just keep going!"
So I did, and I got about halfway through when to my horror the sword began to bend in the middle.
It must have got wet and 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, but today being mature and a bit more worldly, 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!" went round as I tried to make the sword stay
upright with my free hand. As soon as I took my hand away, the sword drooped down again. Someone else yelled, "I got the same problem!" Blokes were writhing on the floor with tears in their eyes, and one bloke was trying to point at me. He couldn't speak for
laughing. After the show I heard someone say, "That bloody kid wi' t'sword were a reet screem, Ah gor a
ache in me belly from just laughin, Gawd talk aboot laugh!" When I looked round there were people with hankys out wiping wet eyes. "Best laugh av' ed fer a long time." Most ladies were trying to look demure, but now and again one would collapse with the giggles, unable to contain the merriment any longer.First thing my Mum did when she got me outside was to check to make sure my trousers
were properly done up. We trudged home, and it was snowing. Because I was wearing Wellington boots they were chafing
the inside of my leg. Just then a farmer was passing in a car and he stopped and gave us a lift.
He asked, "You the young lad with the sword?" and I said, "Yis." My Dad said, "Yis sir." I said, "Yis sir", and my Dad beamed, and I felt like a trained budgie. I felt like going "Chirrup, chirrup, who's a pretty boy then?" but I didn't.Next morning I awoke, and clutching
my filled stocking, I raced downstairs 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, so I had a look at the Christmas tree, which
was made of two hoops of wood, one inside the other at right angles. Then they were wrapped with coloured paper all frilly like, and baubles of glass and tinsel were added and all in all it was a pretty Christmas tree.On glancing through the window, I saw it was snowing
again. That Christmas was different in that
the snow that year was way over my head. The milk cart could not get to the railway station and Dad had to dig right down the path way to the loo, which was at the bottom of our back garden. Our loo had a crescent moon cut in the door and the top of the door was like a pointy fence. There
was about a foot space at the bottom of the door so you did not have to knock to see if any one was in there, cos you just peeked under the door and you could see feet. 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 started to read something interesting then I had to ferret through all the squares to find the missing 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
and the other we called Big Tom, I
presume 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 came round and I had a birthday party. I was six.
