How other peoples rubbish can be so interesting
In the loft above this small cowshed was, I was told, at one time the village mortuary, where if any outsiders who died or was killed in the village, would be taken to await burial.
Its funny how other peoples rubbish can be so interesting, everyone looks at what would not fit into your dust bin. Now take a skip that you will pay through the nose for and given the chance most people will want something you've thrown out , or on the other hand may in the dead of night add to it.
When you have the room to store things for future use, or it is too good to throw away, or been out dated by so called a better product, you keep it incase the new one breaks down.
In the back of our outhouse is an Electrolux vacuumed cleaner, these are the bomb shaped ones that you drag along on two skids with the pipe. I remember when mother had this new, she could fill the bag in one session almost without moving the plug to the next socket (where we took our boots off).
It was when we kids were too young to dry our own hair, out would come the Electrolux, and the vacuum pipe would be attached to the other end and after a few minuets of running it would blow nice warm air. It was by chance that if you bumped the cleaner or its pipe when on its hair drying cycle, and you were the first one, you may have to wash your hair again.
For 40 years of its 60 years life it has hung on a six inch nail ( which is rusting away and needs a new one) in our shed on standby, in fact it was brought out recently to help clean the soot out of the Rayburn, and before that we had a Jackdaw stuck in the chimney and used it to get the worst of the mess & soot up. It still blows hot air out tuther end but unless you want to get rid of your grey hair, I would not use it.
Another item uncovered was an old washing machine, one with the wishy-washy paddle and a mangle, The mangle would in fact swing over your sink, to squash out for rinseing from what you have washed,or stay over the machine to recycle the soap suds for the next load.
Monday mornings over breakfast time, you could hear the Burco boiler struggling to get the first ten gallon of water singing and eventually boiling. Amid clouds of steam this would be ladled or bucketed into the ADA wash machine, in would go all the whites along with the soap flakes. By 9.30am the whites would be on the line on a fine day, and the next load of washing put in.
While the leftovers from yesterdays Sunday lunch ( it was always double veg taters mashed with cabbage, carrots and coli, as father prepared it on a Sunday morning) were sizzling in a huge frying pan, popularly call bubble and squeak with cold beef with pickles',
I Remember Mother's Monday bubble and squeak
On Mother's washing day, she had not much time to prepare a meal and this was regular Monday fare . When it began to smoke it was time to turn it over in the pan, and heated in minuets.
At lunch time every Monday, mother made bubble and squeak,
Potatoes' and cabbage and other veg, sometimes even a leek,
All ingredients left over's from Sunday, put in big pan to fry,
Crisping on the bottom then turned, plenty of heat apply.
Cold beef sliced and put on plates, contents of pan dealt out,
Pan was a big one, it had to be, six plates to fill no doubt,
Pickled onions and pickled red cabbage, went with this a treat,
All home made stored in big jars, made the meal complete,
Jug of gravy thick and hot , often a skin on top,
All of it devoured with relish, plates cleaned off the lot.
Countryman
Mother would be getting all the overalls out of the washing machine, a good three hours after she had started work. The water that was drained out into a bucket from the machine was dirty, so dirty and silty that another bucket or two were used to rinse it out clean. With bits of straw and chaff a bit of stick was kept at hand to clear the drain tap if it blocked.
Its still runs, and was brought out at times when our modern one burnt out or broke down, it was never brought in to use as stand by , but used on the back yard by the outside hot tap. Its never been out for seven or more years so its ready to be chucked now.
Every item you trip over in the back shed has a history, in the first stride there is a very old electric motor, this used to drive an old potato riddle, that had been converted from hand wind to motor driven. It also has a push button switch box bound with tape and string , the health and safety people would love that. The wooden riddle has been gone now twenty years ago infested with woodworm, although we do have its cast iron fly wheel knocking about somewhere.
A cast iron pig trough, big enough for a sow and litter is making the foundation of a small scrap pile along side the wall, not having been moved or used since we stopped pig keeping some twenty eight year hence. It is a bit chipped but still useable.
A cylinder head off an old tractor that had been replaced and stored, this tractor eventually set on fire way down the fields, when it got over heated. I remember climbing onto the top of a load of hay that it was pulling off the meadows, when I saw smoke. A spark from the exhaust had set it on fire, and I got up just in time to grab the handful of hay that was smoldering and put it out. I uncoupled the tractor, and it took more time for me to call the fire brigade (I was half a mile down the fields) than it took them to come from Stafford. No mobile phones then.
Hanging on the wall is an old scythe, I doubt if many people could even sharpen one properly now. This one has a binding on the shaft where at some time it has been weakened or cracked.(more likely run over with a cart wheel).It has a long blade, and was used to cut the first swath from round the corn fields to enable the binder to do the first circuit without running down the growing crop. Shorter blades were used to badger (cut the grass) the hedge banks when the hedges were cut by hand. The hedge cuttings and badgerings were collected and used to keep the frost off the mangol hog during the winter.
On one of the lofts are a set of sale sticks, six still wrapped in brown paper brand new for a Massy Harris binder, and a couple of sales as well. Also a set of binder canvases, these had been well used, it was always important to keep these dry particularly during storage. It looks as if the moths have had about near on fifty year of chewing at them and are now only patterns if some one wants to make replacements. Father always rode the binder, firstly with three shires pulling it, then his standard Fordson, which as school kids we were conscripted to steer and drive when corn cutting. Every now and then we could not recover from a steep turn at the corner, and put a wheel ( or more) into the crop, this would prompt a savage scowl and if a whip was at hand as in the horse days, this would have been used liberally.
Looking up in the beams of the shed are two old combine blades, sixteen foot long. These are dangerous thing if left where they could trip you up. They had been worn away so much sharpening , that a new blade was ordered. The carriers would only carry a parcel maximum of twelve foot so that was the length that came. Four foot of the back bone of the old blade was cut off and welded on to the new one to make sixteen foot, and new sections riveted on.
The old combine went on for a few more years before being scrapped. (See "My old combine" story).
On the wall in the old dairy is the rack on which you used to hang all the milking equipment to steam the lids and rubber pipes. Other items such as milking buckets lids, pulsators, sieves, churns, a vacuum pump, a vacuum gauge, none of which have been used since milk went into bulk tanks over forty years ago. The rubber pipes and liners have badly perished now, but all the metal items are still as used, and usable. The area in the shed next to the dairy has the outline in the floor where the old coal or coke fire boiler stood, and you can see where the pipes went through the wall to the sterilizing chest. In here the larger items such as buckets and cooling fridge and receiving pan would be sterilized , no chemical cleaners in the early days.
In the loft was a long three inch drive barn shafting going from wall to wall with bearings at each end set in the wall, and one in the middle carried on a fancy cast iron bracket. These had bronze bushes and an oil cap for lubrication.
Along the shaft at the drive end was two pullies, a fast and loose one, as in the days of the first hot bulb open crank engines could not be started under load. The belt drive would be diverted onto the loose pulley to start the engine and a stave of wood used to bring in the drive by pushing the live belt onto the fastened pulley and bring everything into work that was belted on the other five pullies. There would be a chaff cutter, a root pulper, a cake crusher, a roller mill, and of coarse the milking vacuum pump. All of these original machines have gone except the last one. Not all would be used at the same time. When electricity came into the village a large electric motor was fitted in place of the open crank engine. Again this would drive all the machines in the barn one or two at a time.
In one of the back sheds is a cow shed lost in a time warp, it still has its brick coble floor and oak cow stalls, blue brick mangers and wooden racking across the front of the stalls, and a fodder bing along the front. Where the cow chains fasten to the stalls, they slide up and down an oak stave, and in the nineteen forties a vacuum line was added, along with self fill water bowls it also has a low loft, As it happens no items for storage (rubbish) have ever been stacked in that shed, so apart from swallows and the odd farm cat having kittens in there, it still remains the same.
In the loft above this small cowshed was, I was told, at one time the village mortuary, where if anyone from outside the village who died or was killed would be taken to await burial. It had a set of brick steps leading up to the loft door from the pub (the Holly Bush) side of the building. In my memories of this room/loft it was always used as a store for the pub, for crates of bottles and the like.
Around the yard are four heavy cast iron wheels, this is all that remains from a wooden elevator of the 1920's era . my predecessor ( the bloke who farmed here before me) used to thatch a roof onto it every year when they had finished harvest. But when bales came in, it got set on one side and forgotten. I took to it as a heap of rotting wood and thatch, and some iron fittings and wheels. Each wheel weighs about 85kg ( in my speak that's about a hundred weight and half). Two front wheels are slightly smaller than the rear.
Some more iron wheels about the yard were off a Massey Harris corn drill, these are 4'-6" tall and was a drill that could sow fertilizer as well as the seed corn. The absolute bees knees around 1950, later, twenty years later they were fitted with rubber tyre wheels. Unless they were well looked after, the fertilizer rotted and corroded the metal hopper and spouts. The wheels out lasted the drills, and now set around the garden as ornaments.
The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.
H. L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)