Life On The Farm At Kettlethorpe

A Memory of Kettlethorpe.

We moved to Park Farm Kettlethorpe when I was 7. The family at this time was reduced to Mum and Dad, Eileen, Brian, Maureen and Gillian. At first we lived in a semi detatched house at the top of the lane leading down to the Farm. Neighbours were Mr and Mrs Button with daughters Glenys and Susan and Mr and Mrs Sherbourne. Dad was promoted to Farm Forman so we moved down the the main farm house.
This had a small kitchen added on to the main house. In it was a copper over a brick fireplace for washing. Mum had a mangle with large wooden rollers. The washing was washed in the boiling water and had to be lifted out with a large stick and put through the mangle to get the water out and then rinsed and then through the mange again. We had to help with turning the mangle. The clothes were then carried outside the garden and hung on a long clothes line strung between four posts. Clothes props were used to keep the line up to dry it faster. Sheets would be put through the mange again to straighten them before putting away. The hot water from the copper had to be emptied by a bucket and the mangle had to be dried and the rollers loosened and then stored with a cloth between to let them dry. The mangle was then folded down and would become a table top.
We used to get the milk from the three cows that were for milking and each morning and night the milk had to be put through the seperator to extract the cream. Once a week the cream was put into a butter churn. This was a wooden barrel on a stand and it had to be turned by the handle on the side. You knew the cream had turned to butter when you heard a liquid swishing around. Mum would then weigh it into one pound lots and it would be patted into an oblong shape with wooden butter patts.
We used to watch everything that happened on the farm. The milking, the shearing of sheep by hand clippers, killing of the pigs. Well not the actual killing but we were allowed to watch it being cut up by the butcher. It was first put into a large wooden tub of hot water and the hair scrapped off. Then was cut up and we had to carry the bits into the house for Mum to deal with. Washing out the intestines for sausage skins was never a favourite job. We would help with making the sausage and would help deliver the Pigs Fry. This was a plate with a bit of each part, i.e. liver, meat, sausage ect which was traditionally given to each farm worker. The plate had to be returned unwashed, not sure why but that was how it was.
The cows were kept in Crewyards in the winter. Each week a new layer of straw was added to the floor so by the end of winter it was about six feet thick. This was then taken out and put into a 'Muck Heap' to be later spread over the land. Dad always used to have some to plant his potatoes on. Nothing better for vegetables. I can remember growing the following in the Park Farm Garden: Potatoes, brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, beans runner and broad, strawberries, rasberries, gooseberries, blackcurrants, onions, carrots and beetroot.
We had our first telephone, number Saxilby 272. It was a black one. The living room had a large black fire place with oven. We used to toast bread using a toasting fork...it would catch fire sometimes.. The fire had to be lit each day. Using newspaper, sticks and coal. This would also heat the water. Bath night was Friday night.
The three girls slept in one room and Brians room was a small one off the larger one. Eileen was by this time going out some nights. One night when she came to bed she saw what she thought was a rat running across the floor. She screamed, everyone woke up, dad searched for the rat. Brian was asleep with a smile on his face...and we later learned a Davy Crocket hat under the covers which had some string tied on it....the rat was found.... He also scared Maureen and myself with a rat story. We were playing on top of a haystack having just climbed up a ladder he told us he had seen the biggest rat in the straw. Of course we didnt believe him but right on cue our tomcat put its head out of the straw covering the stack and we couldn't get down the ladder fast enough to the peals of laughter coming from our dear brother.
One thing we used to love to do was kill the mice at threashing time. Threasing was the time for the stacks to be dismantled and the straw put through the threashing machine to extract the grain. As the sheaves were lifted mice would run out and it was our job to kill them with sticks. We would put the bodies in bags in our pockets to give to the cats.
We would spend time bird nesting or fishing with a stick string and bent pin and works for bait. If we used a net we would catch sticklebacks from the streams and would but they always died.  I once kept a baby mouse in a small pot on my dressing table until it died...don't think mum every found it or it would have been gone.
We had to walk up the lane to catch the bus to school in Newton on Trent and had to do it wether raining, snowing or cold. Last bus from Lincoln was 7.00pm except for Wednesday night and Saturday night 9.00pm.
Tough life but I still consider the best way to grow up: Lots of fun and freedom but also responsibilities.

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