November 2009 - Posts
Have you had a close study of Julian's a short 2 minute video to demonstrate to you all the key features of FWi. If you have , run it through again and stop it on the 54th 55th and 56th second, where the straw in the field of wheat parts.
Its Owd Fred's blog about his book, (Click the tag "Book" )a compilation of farming poems many of which you may have seen on these pages.
It brings back memories to the older generations who read it, but many of the older generation do not use a computer, this is a chance to buy that Christmas gift, two hundred pages of real life tales all told in verse, for those who appreciated and in some cases suffered as children, the way of life during and just after world war two.
If you are interested send me, Fretaw, (Owd Fred) an email or private message for more details, it's all going for charity.
Thanks to all who have been following my blog, it has astounded me the total numbers that have been following my ramblings
Owd Fred
I'm looking for a bit of metal, the size ta mend a gate,
Seen some in the scrap ruck, but I can't locate,
Am I the only one to have a scrap ruck, one that you go to every time you have a breakage, for a piece of metal, or to add another lump of metal to it.
The balance is usually on the "add" side, and as there is more than one ruck, it does not look so untidy, until you look round the next corner.
The Scrap Ruck
I got a pile of scrap iron, and it builds up real fast,
And another round the corner, where I dropped it last,
I save it just in case, nothings ever chucked away,
Piles of it every where, It might come in one day.
Broken bits of tractor, and its off cut bits of steel,
Some is thick and some is thin, and some a bit of wheel,
Angle iron in six foot lengths, some point was a bed,
Other bits chucked into the rucks, some still painted red.
Nettles growing through it, and it makes a nesting site,
For rats and mice and vermin, who are only out at night,
Disturbed they run like mad, get away from you or me,
And where do they head for, their scrap ruck home with glee.
I'm looking for a bit of metal, the size ta mend a gate,
Seen some in the scrap ruck, but I can't locate,
Remember when I chucked it, don't know which pile it's in,
Turn each pile over and see, praps neath that pile of tin.
It's rusting in the winter, when the snow and rain soaks in,
It's rusty and it's flaking, and its no use for welding,
Don't know why I saved it, cus the price of scraps sky high,
Have to have a clear out, home for rats and mice deny.
Countryman
Every now and them I get a rush of blood to the ed, and start to think I will tidy things up a bit. This usually amounts to a big hammer and a fist full of six inch nails hammered into the workshop wall, to hang tools and spare parts and grinding discs and the like.
One of the longest serving six inch nails has only ever held one thing for the last thirty years, and that is mothers old Electrolux Hoover. Back when we were kids she used to dry our hair with it (the pipe would screw on the other end and after a few minuets it was warm air coming out). I had kept it for sentimental reasons, and bring it off its nail every time we sweep the kitchen chimney, it still works and still had a good vacuum, but now resembles a rusty ship wreck at sea, and the nail rusting along with it. When the nail finally gives way the dust bin will be there for it to drop right in.
Then at one time I decided that some brackets on the wall. welded in my notably lumpy welding ( pigeon siht welding they call it round here) and nailed it up high with three shelves so to speak. It worked out well when it was first loaded and the floor area clear, then when repairing an emergency, you never have time to stack the half used metal back on the rack.
I Made me sen a Bracket
I made me sen a bracket, to hang my useful metal on,
All the bits and pieces, that, can get lost and gone,
All along the back wall, it will look so neat and clean,
And keep my workshop tidy, then find a new routine.
But you know what its like, when your always in a rush,
Ya cut a bit of metal off and into the rack you push,
Or sling the metal back inside, doesn't reach the rack,
It piles up inside the shed, till ya shins ya crack.
So the rack its owldin nothin, don't why I put it thee're,
Metal that I'm looking for, is under the pile somewhee're,
Spreading out all around the floor, no room ta walk about,
A scrap ruck outsides what I want, of which can't do without.
Countryman
Quote
Guilt upon conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal.
South.
Clear your desk of backlogs, pay us up to date,
Let us get on with work, which is inside our own gate.
Forms get ever longer and more complicated and more and thicker booklets to explain how to proceed, all in thicker almost glossy paper. The offices are massive and palatial, with no cost spared, the computers are up to date but not up to the mark, and staff seems demoralised and not motivated.
Who am I talking about, the RPA.
We are told to conserve energy save costs, told to cut back on inputs, told to cut back on labour, told to modernise and get computer literate, and were told it will save on paper if its all done on line but even more explanation booklets drop through the door in ever bigger piles to tell us how to do that.
Where will it end, even the BCMS computers not up to scratch right at the moment, perhaps teething trouble on the change over from the old site, but then it sounds as I am making excuses for them.
Another session of re-mapping and re- numbering of fields, all done from satellite observations, often mistaking boundaries, with mistakes again to be corrected. Some have been allocated a fields way out in the North Sea, and others a field located two counties away, such is the chaos that's called RPA and DEFRA.
Fields increasing in size by 0.005 Ha or decreasing by some similar ridiculously small areas, all balancing out to around the same total farm hectareage as before they started. Cost of the exercise, tremendous, benefit to the farm and country minimal, all done to make those in the ivory towers feel that they are in charge.
Forms to Fill to Farm
Come on Mr Benn get your offices sorted out,
Build one of straw this time; build one that's not so stout,
Environmentally friendly, insulation without compare,
Can be fed into its own boiler, when refurbishment is there,
Do it Mr Benn, do it for mankind,
Renewable renewals grown on our own land you can find,
Help us to help you, cooperation to cut back,
All those overheads you inherit, give some of them the sack.
A dedicated person to deal with our own claim form,
Except when they're on holiday or off sick n' can't perform,
Trust us Mr Benn, trust us with your cheque book,
Get the money where it belongs, mistake you later look.
Could do without all these forms, that we're filling in,
One a mistake and it goes, bottom of the bin,
Ring to find out information, five options listen to,
Then they ask for ya SBI, nine digits read back to you,
Could do without printouts, that are misleading and all wrong,
Whole lines that are missing, a field it does belong,
Bar codes to stick on every paper, that you have to send,
Sketch maps for part fields, got to sign and amend.
There's numbers for every thing, for this that and tuther,
Field numbers map numbers, farm references to cover,
SBI and there's IACS, vendor as well,
PI and a Trader, and Stewardship numbers to tell. ( thats nine numbers up to here)
A blend of every complication, regularly emits,
Consistency is very rare, though updating, it exists,
So come on Mr Benn, get your office sorted out,
Try to give us confidence, n' see what your about.
Clear your desk of backlogs, pay us up to date,
Let us get on with work, which is inside our own gate,
Food and fuel getting short, let us fill the empty plate,
Be proud of what were doing, before more of us vacate.
Countryman
Quote
First I do not sit down at my desk to put into verse something that is already clear in my mind. If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood, we write in order to understand.
Robert Cecil Day Lewis
Old nuts and bolts of any size, they build up in the shed,
But finding one the right size, too thick too short the thread,
Over the years you pick up most skills needed to run the maintenance of your farm, the obvious one is laying concrete, and brick or block laying. Before ready mix came about loads of sand and gravel came in ten ton loads and cement in one cwt (50KG) paper sacks. The mixer was the old traditional one with a Petter or Lister petrol engine, and later diesel engines.
Brick laying needed a lot of practice and got a lot easier with the advent of concrete blocks, depending on the size, it was the same as laying twelve bricks at a time
Another one is plumbing, although that has changed beyond recognition from my early days when it was all on galvanized pipe, with the cutting to length then threading the pipe ends, applying plumbers paste and winding in the hemp wool, tightening up the elbow or what ever fitting was needed.
Nowadays its all plastic piping and the joints are push fit or ones that are tightened by hand, of coarse the copper pipes are almost as easy and are reserved for use in the house or dairy, even some of that can be replaced by plastic push fit connecters and tees and elbows.
Roofing got a lot quicker when asbestos corrugated sheet came in replacing the need for a steeper tiled roof, with less supporting timber as well. Then the spouting and guttering now all in plastic, almost ever lasting, although it needs a lot closer brackets and has a tendency to sag and then over flow at the slightest bit of bird crap that builds up.
Urgent building jobs always seem to want to be done when the weathers cold or wet, the same with mending a burst pipe or joint, invariable it happens during frost and snow and always in the muckiest corner of the field or shed when its been leaking for some time. Ball valves loose the cover and bored stock play with it until the stem bleaks or bends.
Carpentry is nearly always six inch nail jobs as smaller nails get lost too easily, my father liked his joinery and made many thing over his lifetime from toys at Christmas for us kids to a trailer to take his pigs and calves to market and many other thing about the farm.
The old finger bar mowers had wooden connecting rods and wooden swath boards that needed replacing from time to time, wheel barrows needed new sides and legs as the rotted out. Farm carts and wagons had running repairs, and when the tractors came in they were all were converted to a single short wooden drawbar to replace the shafts.
After he retired he made four grandfather clocks, and four farmhouse kitchen tables to fit there respective kitchens, as well as an assortment of stools and chairs and a welsh dresser. Most of his timber was very old oak that he had found about the farm over the years and saved, a certain amount of ash, elm and yew timber used for specific
Father Extended his Garage
This was when they retired to a house in Bridgeford.
The bulk of his timber stock was stored back at the farms.
Father extended his garage, called it, his ‘workshop',
So keenly he worked in there, only for meals would he stop,
In it he had all his tools, including a new lathe and a saw,
His plans for what he is making, on a bit of cardboard he'd draw.
For timber he'd look round the farm, old elm and ash and oak,
If it's useful for what he wants, into the roof if his garage he'd poke,
Half ton he stored this way, garage not designed for this,
But the timber dried out, and danger of collapse he dismiss.
For ten or more years he worked in there, no spare time had he,
Made tables and chairs and clocks, these thing he made ably,
It wasn't one in his shed, but usually four of each item he made,
Finished and stained and polished, to his high standard he'd grade.
Got bad on his legs with age, and a stool to work from he put,
Not safe to use his machines, this it kerbed his workshop output,
The things that he made, he made to last, generations to enjoy,
Solid as if to last for ever, all those skills he did employ.
Countryman
Most of the jobs mentioned above we learned from him but welding came in a bit late for father to take up, however for me, with thirty years of practice on the electric welder, with good metal, and welding with the job flat on the bench or on the ground, I can make a joint that will hold, but if on the slightest of slope or vertical welding I am reliably told its "Pigeon Sh1t" welding. The more you try to strengthen the joint the lumpier it gets hence the name.
Spanners were all whitworth and then when Fordson tractors came over they brought the AF fine threads and a completely different set of spanner sizes, then more recently the metric spanners have taken over with another set of sizes. So most of my old whitworth spanners have dwindled away till now fifty years on only a few remain. If your anything like me nothing gets thrown away, hence the boxes beneath the bench full of a wide assortment of spanners, some specific to a particular machines. The old tractors came with a set of wheel spanners, plug spanners, and a general set to fit all nuts on that tractor. Ploughs had spanners and cultivators; I think the only thing in those days, without a spanner, was the set of chain harrows.
Farmers Skills know no Bounds
Over the years you learn most skills, enough to get ya by,
Welding plumbing laying bricks, ya mind ya must apply,
Laying concrete with a slope, grids and drains dig in,
Mend the roofs and spouting, protect the stock within.
A builders job is in his hands, a trowel and shovel need,
Pegs and line and spirit level, practice now for speed,
Anyone can do the job, an eye for accuracy to lay,
Bricks and blocks to make a wall, mistakes are on display.
Plumbing now with plastic pipes, and easy joints push fit,
Gone are the old iron pipes, a lot of work admit,
Cut with hacksaw threads to cut, paste and hemp wound on,
Elbows tees and feral joints, with pipe wrench now all gone.
A breakdown now, repair with weld, another job to learn,
Clean the rust off on the joint, with weld rod at angle burn,
Steady flow and curled up ash, or that is how should be,
Mine resembles pigeon sh1t, in lumps and holes for me.
Old nuts and bolts of any size, they build up in the shed,
But finding one the right size, too thick too short the thread,
When ones found that's okay, but now you need a pair,
Then the jobs impossible, enough to mek ya sware.
Cotter pins they're soft and bend, can never get them out,
Top and tail it breaks off, in hole with rust we clout,
The right size nail comes handy, tail end bent round double,
Get you moving, harvest time, and gets you out of trouble.
Farmer's skills know no bounds, most things he will tackle,
Jack of all trades master of none, but saves a lot of hassle,
Do the job to how he likes, no one to tell that's wrong,
Confidence in home made skills, built and made real strong.
Countryman
Computers force us into creating with our minds and prevent us from making things with our hands. They dull the skills we use in everyday life.
Clifford Stoll (1955)