Fruit Picking time

This time of the year always takes me back to my childhood and the long hot summers of child labour in the Strawberry picking fields of Norfolk.( They start working young there) I think I was about 8 the first time my best friend's mum took us fruit picking. I carried on doing it every summer till I was 16, then I could get a proper job! We did all kinds of picking, starting with strawberries, on to Goosberries and Raspberries and finished with Black currants, this would take us almost through the school holidays, usually finishing in time for family holiday at the end of August.

There were several big farms in the area and they all relied on casual labour to get their fruit picked. The biggest farm was an international employer, they had students from all over europe, they put them up in old converted chicken huts, fed and watered them and they would pick from dawn to dusk to make a few pounds to take back to their home countries. Very reminicent of the "Two Caravans" by Marina Lewycha, which I read recently. we only went to that farm when all the others were done.

We would make our sandwiches, I can still smell that awful sandwich spread stuff that looks like vomit, take a few biscuits and a bottle of pop and an old transistor radio. We'd jump on our bikes and ride off to the nearest picking field, could be up to 5 miles away. There was usually a group of women plus us few children.

On arrival at the Strawberry field we'd search out the boss man and ask if we could pick, usually this would be ok and we'd be found some rows to get started on. We'd take a handful of punnets , wrap plastic bags roundour knees and get down in the straw strewn rows. We'd pick and pick till we filled our punnets, usually the first day of the year we'd eat loads too, but to be honest after that the smell and thought of strawberries becomes repulsive so you don't need to eat anymore. If the strawberries were going for jam we'd have to tail them, but if they were going for sale to the public then the stalks are left on. It's harder to pick them taking stalk off as you end up squidging them!


The frustrating thing about being a child picker was they often put you on a row that had already been picked recently, so there are fewer strawberries and you are scuttling up the row on your knees. I'd get home and my knees would be red and sore! We'd always have a radio on and listen to Radio One as we picked, though one year at the International Place I left my tranny in the bush and went to get my fruit weighed when i came back someone had pinched it, I never got it back.

Money wasn't good, but when you were young any money was beter than no money. Some of the women were amazingly fast pickers and they'd earn a fortune. I'd make a £1 or £2 if I was lucky! In later years on a good day I could make about £5-£10 depending on crop. I kept all thr totals in a ledger, I still have it somewhere, I must get it out and have a look!

As a teenager Fashion was all important and impressing the boys a must! Mid 1970's halter necks were very in, so I remember going fruit picking in my old jeans, wearing a black halter neck top and a red and white spotted scarf, thinking I looked "the business"!

One year I had a huge crush on my friend's brother. He didn't usually come picking but this year he did and for whatever reason, I cannot remember my friend wasn't able to come so me and Paul went together. We biked there together, we shared a row together, we had our lunch together. I felt so sick with fancying him, I couldn't eat a thing! I nearly swooned when our hands touched through the black current bush!

The next day my friend was back and she could see there was "something going on" between the 2 of us and she was understandably annoyed. For a few days I was totally besotted with Paul, but then he stopped coming, slowly the sicky feeling subsided and I started eating again, I got over him and moved on!

Fruit picking fields and Love seemed to go hand in hand. I remember my other friend's eldest sister used to come , she never did much picking as her motorbike boyfriend used to come too and they just find a quiet place in the field to make out! Till the boss came along and shouted at them to get back to work!

The sun always shone every summer I'm sure of it. I guess if it was raining we just didn't go. But it did always seem to be hot and I'd burn myself specially wearing my halter neck tops!!

One summer '76, was extrememly hot, but then '77 was loads of thunderstorms, so we'd go picking but end up having to shelter as the rain pelted down. I must admit by '77 I was finding it all rather a bore and was desperate to get a proper job, so that year, we did skive off , just me and my friend Sally, we'd go off on our bikes and go to the beach or visit churches, we liked churches, we'd go round the grave yards reading the headstones. didn't earn much that summer. But I didn't have a great need either, two years earlier I'd worked really hard to save money to buy my pony a new saddle but on 31 December 76 he died and my life as I knew came to an end.

But as my uncle said at the time " You'll have more time for boys now" and of course he was right, but it didn't take the pain away.

My garden in June

Here are a few photos of plants flowering this month:

What kind of a proposal was that?

How I met my other half Part 2 The Proposal.

So you've heard about how Stan and I met. When I moved to Surrey and became JK's bridesmaid and Stan was PT's Best man. Our first date was to a pub in Richmond and then the next day I was taken to meet his mother as it was her birthday. They seemed to like me. Soon Stan and I were seeing each other regularly, I'd spend time at his house in Reigate and he'd come to Richmond and stay with me. We'd both visit PT & JT every Sunday evening for a drink as Stan had always done. Because they were now married PT was determined that Stan should get married too, so on New Years Eve of that same year after their wedding, we were all at a party celebrating the New Year, when suddenly PT leaned across to Stan and said " Have you asked her to marry you yet?" To which he replied "No, not yet" and PT said "Well are you going to?" and Stan said "Er, yes, I s'ppose so", then PT learnt over to me and said "Stan 's got something to say......" to which Stan shifted slightly in his seat, he was rather drunk and leant over to me and said " Er Well Will you marry me?". I was to say the least dumbfounded, but rather stupidly , as I should have given it a lot of thought said "Yes".


PT jumps up and shouts to the bar man, "These 2 have just got engaged!!", The Bar man hurried over with a bottle of Champagne, Then they started playing some music and wanted us to dance, and join in with some game.Suddenly Stan was gone.........................................................

You would have thought he could stay to celebrate his own engagement but no, it was all too much, he drove off into the night and didn't come back for several hours.


I was beside myself with worry, he'd been drinking and could have had an accident. But he did eventually come back and I wondered if it had all been a dreadful mistake. He wasn't ready to propose, he only did it because of PT. But in the cold light of day we talked it through and agreed it was what we both wanted. We married 13 months later, tried for Valentines day but had to make do with 21 February! It was a very small wedding because Stan couldn't face a big do with lots of people looking at him, so closest family and PT & JT that was all.

It wasn't all plain sailing as we had to endure one of Stan's ex's constant bombardment of telephone calls day and night, usually when she was drunk, begging Stan to go and see her. This went on for several years. Even when we moved house she found us, thanks to the lodgers in our old house telling her the new number.
Sometimes he'd talk to her , sometimes he'd not, I used to get so cross.

But I had my own issues still as I was still very attached to Sam, (See much earlier blogs) and couldn't get him out of my mind and really felt I had been wrong to get married so quickly. But Sam was 500 miles away in Scotland and my life was here. So I just had to get on with it.

After we'd been married 6 months I decided I wanted a baby. Stan didn't. However, I got pregnant and Emma was born on June 21 1987, so she is 21 this weekend. I endured Stan's annoyance throughout the pregnancy. He felt we'd never be able to go to the pub again and I was ruining his life. Turned out we were in the pub as I went into labour and we were back in the pub 5 dayslater with baby Emma. It took a while but Stan got to love having children, so much so that he wanted to go on to have number
4, I said no more after number 3. Couldn't face another stint of post natal depression.

So here we are 22 years married and about to celebrate our eldest's 21st and middle daughter's 18th on 21st and 22 June! How about that?

How I met my other half

As seen in the forum of Purplecoo:
The quick and easy answer is “At a wedding” but that doesn’t explain how I happened to be at that particular wedding. To explain that I need to take you back to 1972.

Thelwell

In 1972 I was a pony mad 12 year old living in Norfolk. My whole life revolved around my friend’s stables, every weekend and straight after school I could be found cleaning tack, mucking out, grooming in order to get a ride of my favourite pony, Trigger. He eventually became mine but that is another story.

My other joy was writing letters and receiving letters so I had numerous penpals scattered all over the world. But I was keen to have a pen pal who shared my interest in horses. I regularly read a Pony Magazine which had a Penpal section each month. So I wrote to a girl in Surrey. She wrote back explaining that she had had lots of responses and her twin sister would like to write to me. Her sister was JK, she lived in Epsom Downs in Surrey.

For many happy years we communicated by post sharing our joy of horses ad other animals. Then when we were 16 , JK announced that she was in love with a man called PT, she left her home and went to live with him. Being rather innocent I was shocked and stopped writing to her.

Fast forward to 1984. I am just completing my Social Work training. I’m up in Leeds. I need to find work. My thought is to try and get back to Norfolk, but there are no vacancies in my chosen field of Learning Disability, so I have to look elsewhere in the country.

I spot an advert for a Community Care Post in Esher, Surrey. It sounds perfect. So I apply. I am offered an interview, my first ever proper interview, so my mum and I travel down to Surrey. The interview goes well, there were only 2 candidates, but I’m convinced they will offer it to the other young man. We all had lunch together and he was much more outgoing. However, later that night I receive a call from the Director offering ME the job. I was over the moon. My first interview gained me my first proper job!!

Then the panic set in, I knew nothing about surrey, I knew no one in Surrey. Why was I going to a place where I’d be totally alone? I should try for a job where I knew people. But then I thought of JK, it’d been several years since our last contact but I still had her parents address. I wrote to her. Within a week I had a reply from JK herself. She was still living in Epsom , in her own flat now, but still going out with PT and they were getting married in September. She was delighted to hear from me and told me to ring her as soon as I arrived in Surrey and we would meet up. I’d never met her before, but I’d had several photos over the years.

August 1984 My parents helped me move from Leeds down to Surrey. The Council provided me with a little old house in Ham near Richmond Park. Then I was on my own.
Ham House NT

I rang JK and she asked me to come over on Saturday for evening, which I did. We got on like a house on fire, then I met PT too and he was so lovely and funny, I could see why she loved him. I stayed over and the next day we went to Camber Sands, it was a hot, hot, day and I got sunburnt. Back in Epsom PT cooked us a Roast and then his friend Stan turned up to go for a drink with PT. I didn’t take much notice of him to start with, but I needed his assistance quite soon afterwards.

Stan did car repairs and shortly after arriving in Surrey I had a minor collision damaging my front bumper. PT told me that Stan could repair it for me. PT and Stan were best friends. Stan was to be PT’s Best Man at their wedding which was only a few weeks away.

JK and I were by now firm friends and she suddenly asked me if I’d be her bridesmaid, one of her so called friends had suddenly dropped out and she was stuck. So I agreed.
It was all a bit of a rush because I was being bridesmaid to another friend the week before in Norfolk. But I managed to get to the rehearsal taking my boyfriend from Leeds with me, who’d come down to see me to celebrate my birthday. I’d already decided there was no point in continuing the relationship. His life was in Leeds and that was another lifetime. After the rehearsal we all went for a drink I found myself chatting to Stan thinking what a witty, chatty person he was.

At the wedding itself I spent most f the day with Stan and another his friend’s AK, who I must admit was gorgeous, but out of my league. At the wedding I met Stan’s parents, his dad danced with me. Stan attempted to dance with me too, but was rather the worse for wear for drink, but as we were leaving he asked if he could take me out the following week. I agreed and gave him my number.

I think it was only Monday evening when the phone rang, it was Stan asking me out for a drink Saturday evening. Saturday evening arrived and Stan turned up in his old blue escort van and we went into Richmond. He spent to evening telling me all sorts of funny stories and I was smitten. There ensued the beginnings of our courtship. So that was how I met my other half.

I received the weirdest of proposals, if you could call it a proposal, but that is another story and I’ve already written far too much! So I’ll save that story for another day.

Though, isn’t Fate strange? A chance response to a Pen pal advert lead to the most important relationship in my life.

One of those special moments

I have just come back from running one of my residential short breaks for families that I work with in Sussex. Lampworkbeader knows where I've been as it's close to her. It's the most amazing big old house with wonderful facilities for children and adults to relax and play safely. On this occasion the majority of children all had some form of Autistic Spectrum disorders,mostly on the high functioning end, Aspergers types. You might think this would be a recipe for disaster but it was amazing how well the boys interacted and seemed to understand one another and give space to each other when they were getting frustrated and upset.

The weather was perfect so the play leader was able to take the children on the boating pond and on the zip wire. One young lad had never been on a boat before and by the end of the afternoon he was paddling around in the kayake with great expertise!

It was quite hard work for my colleague and I because basically we had to produce three meals each day for 22 people and keep everything running smoothly, so not much time for sitting and relaxing for us. But we did have the help of a couple of very kind volunteers to help with the main meal each day.

Saturday evening we had a BBQ, we roped the men in to help with the cooking, it's funny isn't it how men love to BBQ but don't normally involve themselves in kitchen activities otherwise!

Now some of the boys had found the spot in the garden where camp fires could be lit and one boy was determined we should have a camp fire. So it was agreed that once it got darker we would light the fire, we sent the boys out to collect wood and twigs, which they did with great jubilation. Soon we had a huge pile of logs and twigs and got the fire lit. To start with it was just my colleagues and some of the boys enjoying the fire but as the evening drew on more adults came to join us and one Dad had his guitar, he sat next to me and started playing. He was very good, he could play by air many of my favourite songs from the 60's,70's and 80's as well as some we sing in church. So as he got into his playing I started singing quietly, neither of us were very good at remembering words, but we muddled through.I'd had afew glasses of wine so pretty relaxed and just enjoying reliving some of my youth through songs. He asked me to suggest something I knew , I suggested one of my favourites "Will you " by Hazel O'conner, he asked me to sing it, so there I am singing to him " You drink your coffeee and I sip my tea, and we're sitting here, playing so cool, thinking what will be will be......", but he doesn't know it,but wishes he does and suggests something else We start on Beatles songs and after a while I realised the others had stopped talking and were listening to us, so i encouraged them to join in, we had a good go at The Streets of London, Hey Jude, Yellow Submarine and a Snow Patrol one. It was one of those warm fuzzy moments when you just want the moment to go on forever. Those moments don't come very often these days, but it is one that I will treasure in my memory for ever.

There is something about that closeness, that connection, of being played to and singing with that really moved me. You could feel the electricity in the air.

It brought back a delightful memory of when I was 18 and going off to Switzerland to see my cousin and work for 2 months. I had to catch a train from Norwich at 11.30pm to Liverpool St Station and then cross London to get to Gatwick, all over night.My parents carefully put me in a carriage with another woman, but she got out at Ipswich and a young man got in. We got talking, he was going to Bournmouth to be a Life Guard on the beach for the summer, but he was also a singer in a local band and after a while he started to sing to me, all sorts of songs from the 60's mostly, he did know all the words! He sang so beautifully and it was so moving to be serenanded like that. When we reached London, he wouldn't leave me on my own and agreed to wait with me with me until the underground opened at 5.30am, so there we sat in Liverpool Street station with him singing quietly to me all these wonderful old songs. Once the Underground opened, we hugged and kissed Goodbye and went our separate ways, never to meet again.It was so romantic and a real warm fuzzy moment that I've never ever forgotten or been able to match until this weekend.
Just one moment in time.

Would anyone else like to share one of their own warm and fuzzy moments with us?