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Life of a School Going Farmer by Gossie Forde
Gossie Forde cutting turf
A day off school to do the farm work, oh! how I loved those days off. They were hard to get but there were a few of them spread out over the year. I wasn't too keen on a lot of the work involved but anything was worth a day off school, so I didn't complain. The first event was the sticking of the spuds. This had to take place sometime near Good Friday. My father, God rest him, would have spent a few days before that digging and manicuring the ridges. Firstly, the potatoes had to be split, I wasn't allowed to do this, it had to be done by a trained hand. There had to be an eye in each split and the potato had to be cut halfway across and broken off the rest of the way. Next, they were covered in lime; all this took nearly half a day. Most houses around that time had a stickling bag. This was made from a flour bag; it resembled an apron with a large pocket on the front. The 'Splits' were carried in this pocket. My father put a slit down in the ridge with his spade, he would then shove the 'split' down at the back of the spade. My job was to come after him and shove the soil back over the potato with my boot, this was called stopping the spuds. I also had to draw the splits to my father when his apron was getting empty. The ridges seemed to go on forever and I couldn't wait for dinnertime. The following day there was manure spread over the ridges to help growth. Then the ridges were moulded, this 63 meant that more clay was taken out of the furrow and put up on top of the manure. When the stalks began to grow, they had to be sprayed for blight a few times, this was done with a spraying conjointly owned with Bert Naughton R.I.P. Later on, that year the spuds were dug. My father dug the potatoes to the surface, and we went after him with buckets picking.
The poheens (small potatoes) were left to one side to be picked separately and kept for boiling for the hens and pigs. The potatoes were stacked together and covered with clay and rushes; this was the best way to preserve them. The ''hole" was then opened every day to take potatoes out for the dinner.
Our favourite event was going to the fair. We got up at 5o'clock in the morning and set off with the cattle. Myself and my brother Bertie were usually sent on with the cattle, my father would follow on his bike. The journey to the fair was difficult, the cattle wanted to go in every gateway or gap. We nearly always met up with someone else going to the fair and all the cattle got mixed. We hated this as it was nearly impossible to separate them. By the time we reached our destination we would be tired and thirsty. This was the part we loved because there was nearly always someone there that took pity on us and brought us out a mineral. We loved to meet Batty Naughton or Pakie McCrann as we were sure of getting a shilling or six pence. Many’s the hand that was spat on and slapped on over the splitting of a pound or even ten shillings in some cases. Sometimes other farmers asked us to mind their cattle while they adjourned to the pub for refreshment or sometimes to clench the deal. We liked doing this because there was nearly always some reward, there wasn't much out of minding our own cattle. All too early we would have eaten the cheese sandwiches my mother would have packed for us and then we faced a long hungry day. We usually had cattle to bring home, either unsold or newly bought ones. The fair was an outing for many farmers.
The next big job was cutting the turf. Before the machines it was all slane turf. My father would be down in the hollow with the slane cutting and throwing the turf up to us on the bank. We had to catch the turf and put in on the wheelbarrow and bring it out of the bog to spread it, in a similar fashion to the way the hopper does it today. When the turf got a bit dry it had to be scattered, this meant turning it over to dry the bottom. Then it was put into footings and a few weeks later if it was dry enough it was taken out to the road by ass and cart. It was made into a reek ready to take home. I remember many a long day myself and Geraldine spent on the bog.
Another major job was the hay making. We were cheated on this one because it happened during the summer holidays so there was no day off. This was a long drawn out process. We only got one section cut at a time to make it manageable. The first day was spent picking dockens and thistles while my father cut the badgen. The badgen was the parts that the tractor couldn't reach. All the family came to the hayfield and we all got jobs. First the hay was turned with a rake, exposing more of the hateful dockens. It was then shook out with a fork. If it didn't rain it was then put into rows for making into cocks. All this took about a week or maybe longer if it had to be lapped when there was· a sign of rain. The weather must have been better 25 years ago because we can't save and hay the past few years and it would only take a week then. About two weeks after the cocks were made, they had to be re-headed. This meant pulling hay out from the bottom and remaking the head that would have got flattened for the weather and sometimes from us climbing on it. About three weeks after that the cocks were snigged into one corner to be built into one big cock, we called a pike. I usually got the job of snigging. This was done with a donkey and piece of rope. The rope was attached to the collar on one side, it was then brought along under the cock and attached to the other side of the collar making sure it didn't overturn. As the day went on and the donkey got tired, he had to be helped. My father always went building the cock, he usually took one of the younger ones Vera or Freda to help to tramp the hay as it was being built. My mother or Bertie usually got the job of pitching the hay, as the cock got higher one stood on a ladder and the other would hand up forkfuls of hay to be passed up the cock. Tom or Benny raked the butts, this was the bit left after the cock was pulled away. These were collected up separately at the end of the hay and built in a cock for bedding.
There are a few incidents that stand out from everyday routine, like the time my mother caught the dog eating eggs from the hen’s nest. This was a very grave offence and was always punished by death, but Lassie was a lovely dog, and nobody wanted her to go. My mother got a brainwave, she got and eggshell and filled it with mustard, she then Sellotape it back together and left it out for lassie. This I am glad to say was the last egg Lassie ever touched.
Another great milestone in our school days was Pakie Brady, God rest him. Every evening on our way home from school we had to go into Pakie for a drink of water, we just couldn't make it up the hill. Pakie would always have a full bucket drawn from the well for our coming, when six Hanberrys, two Kennedys and three Dwyers got a drink we would have gone well down the bucket. When Mickie (Pakie's brother) God rest him too, would come home from England on holidays he would always greet us in Irish. A favourite was "Cen t'am e?" and Mickie would answer in Irish. One day after Mickie went back, I think it was Assumpta Kennedy asked me a question, Cen t'am e? Pakie reply was "Tommy went up the hill a few minutes ago". We laughed and repeated that for many weeks after that. Another great memory is of going fishing. If my father mentioned going, I would be up and have worms dug before mass. We would usually take a packed lunch and stay away all day. We either went to Bundry or Clooncunny bridge. We always met Paddy Connor or Jim Noone. Paddy Connor could be still seen at Clooncunny bridge up to two years ago. Jim Noone R.I.P. was always talking about his near big win at the bingo or about the solutions to the crossword. Indeed, fishing was one of the last activities I took part in.
The years are flying by and all the old characters are gone. We thought Master Finan would go on forever, many a day I broke his heart and he broke my hand in return. I also made Mrs. Morrisey’s job more difficult when I could, I hated to see them earn their money easy. Mahon’s shop is sadly now closed, to us it was part of the school, many is the penny bar that was bought and shared on our way from school. I also remember going for the shopping in the evening and putting the bill on the nail until the end of the week.
The bonfire was another great occasion. We always had a bonfire on our hill, we picked the highest spot to make it look bigger. We always wanted to have a bigger one that the one in Lacken. We were always jealous of their black smoke. We rarely had tyres because there was always some other use found for them. We burned old shoes, timber, turf and anything we could steal out behind our mother's back. The Harringtons in Lacken must have had tyres because their smoke was always blacker than ours. We insisted on throwing everything in together to make a big flame, so the fire was usually over early. Indeed, we often spent time the next day trying to relight it when we got our mother’s, back turned. We'd smell like tinkers for days after it.
Now as I look back, it seems to be like only a year ago, and still it seems to be and eternity ago. All I hope is that the young ones today will enjoy growing up as much as we did. There is one thing that most will miss out on that we had, in a family of nine, there was always someone ready to think of new mischief. My mother is great to beas good as she is today after rearing us nine rascals. If I can look back on the second part of my life with the same pleasure as I get from looking back on my youth, my life won't be too bad. So, make sure and be good to me as I would like to have nice memories.
Peter Hanberry