PART-3-f5vo-2025-11-07_13_33_08-farmingladder-pages-deleted.pdf
PART-3-f5vo-2025-11-07_13_33_08-farmingladder-pages-deleted.pdf
the Cairnwell Pass and negotiating the famous Devil's Elbow, a dangerous double turn, before gently running downhill through very impressive scenery. From Blairgowrie I went by train to Edinburgh, arriving in time to have lunch and at two fifteen P.M. going on an afternoon tour by motor-coach to Abbotsford, Melrose, and Dryburgh Abbeys, arriving back at nine thirty in time to catch the train for the south, so that I could be back at work the following morning.
Ten very full and enjoyable days were these, and typical in many respects of the hundred I devoted to seeing Britain first.
What great contrasts I found in such a small compass! On the Romney Marsh fifty sheep fattening to the acre, the most heavily stocked sheep pasture in the world. On a remote island in the Hebrides fifty acres of grazing to one sheep, they stood waiting for the tide to ebb and maintained life by eating seaweed. They are said to be fatter in winter than in summer, for there is more weed available then. In the Shetlands I saw sheep sheltering from wind and rain in enlarged rabbit holes: incredible to the English farmer, but a commonplace to the Shetlander.
There is good farming too in the far north. Many a local farmer in the Cotswolds might well envy the crops grown on the deep Old Red Sandstone of the Orkneys. There only the wind is the farmer's enemy, the soil and climate comparing favourably with those of any part of Britain.
A Jersey farmer considered himself fortunate in renting land at forty pounds an acre for early potato and tomato growing. A Lakeland farmer deplored an increase of rent which worked out at twopence an acre.
Guernsey, with a population of thirty-six thousand on twenty-four square miles, depended on intensive cultivation carried to a fine art; while in Sutherlandshire, with a rural population of two to the square mile, a human being other than a shepherd or keeper is a rare bird.
Early spring flowers, banana-trees flowering in the open, eucalyptus, palms, and bamboos, everyone associates with the Scilly Isles, yet few realize that they also flourish as far north as Loch Hourn and Ullapool in north-west Scotland. You find these rare plants and trees in deep, narrow, sheltered valleys, warmed and kept frost-free by the Gulf Stream, with a climate as mild as the Riviera's, although within sight of snow-capped mountains.
In the fourth year of the Greater War good land could still be seen lying derelict in England, yet in the west of Ireland I saw soil being scratched out from between the rocks and carried in baskets to make a field, and a big farmer might have two or three acres in three or four plots spread over the mountainside, and count himself lucky with a fourfold increase of potatoes, laboriously manured with seaweed and muck carried up the slopes on human shoulders. Here, too, I was assured by the local matchmaker that he could find me a good wife for eighty pounds, in fact I could have my pick. Mistaking my look of surprise he assured me that it would have all to be cash down, and the father would give his best cow as a wedding present. Remembering the old saying 'Loveless as an Irish marriage', I inquired if they ever married for love and not by arrangement. He snorted in disgust, 'Yes, in America, where the divorce rates are two in seven'.
Yet for all the contrasts, from Land's End to John o' Groats, from Lowestoft Ness to Valencia Island, in spite of all the differences in wealth, religion, outlook, and political opinion, the great freemasonry of a common calling means a welcome everywhere. In the house of a great landowner with a quarter of a million acres, and in a remote shepherd's cottage, I have spent many a happy hour discussing long and earnestly, in perfect harmony, the problems of the world's greatest industry.
On the completion of my tours in this country I turned my eyes to the Continent. Far too many people cross the English Channel before they know their own country. I have heard them making invidious comparisons between English and French farming. Had they studied the crops on similar geological formations they would see that the best type of British farmer has little to learn. A great statesman once said, 'What do they know of England, who only England know?' Very true! But what do they know of England who only the Continent know? Ask the man who comments unfavourably on English farming when travelling between Paris and London, if he has ever seen the Fens or Lothians. Invariably he has not.
There are, of course, many other things of interest in Europe besides farming and I have thoroughly enjoyed my visits there; and it does a farmer good to know that the world extends a little beyond his own boundary hedges and the nearest market town.
Every holiday brings its little adventures. I have had my fun in many odd places, while my brother had the good fortune to meet his young and charming wife on the Farmers' Tour to Canada and America in nineteen thirty-nine.
Of course we never let our holidays interfere with our farming. We planned them well ahead, got the work well forward, and then felt we had deserved the break. With partners also, either of whom could run the business, it was easier to get away. It is a great advantage in farming, even if you are working seventy or eighty hours a week, to know that you can get away from it if you want to, and we made the best of our opportunities.
In the war we had neither the time nor the inclination to take even a day off, but we still had our cherished memories. One partner can say, 'Now when I was in Budapest . . . ' The other 'In Toronto or New York ... ' What a lot you can get out of eighty-five acres of poor, stony land with a little thought and energy. The art of living consists in concentrating on the things you want to do, leaving the rest alone. The total cost of all our holidays was less than many a man fritters away in beer or cigarettes over a few years, though actually paid for by photographs and articles sold to travel magazines, for a farmer must never miss an opportunity of earning a little money! Since the war many of my little holidays have consisted of lecture tours at home and abroad. It is a unique opportunity to study agriculture and meet farmers, when you spend the days going round their countryside and talk to them in the evenings. I would like to place on record my appreciation of the hospitality I have received.
Chapter eleven. The Farm Buildings
Chapter eleven. The Farm Buildings
early every farm in the country has inadequate farm buildings for the area of land they serve, and it is quite impossible to stock and crop the land as it should be stocked and cropped without sufficient suitable buildings.
This farm was no exception; we had to adapt the buildings to our purpose, and as capital was so limited, do the building ourselves. This, I think, would have been the solution for many other farmers in a similar position. As an example in the difference of cost: when we first came here the house needed repointing, i.e. the old mortar between the bricks replaced by cement. We had a quotation from three firms, the lowest being seventy-five pounds; allowing one shilling an hour for labour (farm workers then received seven pence) the total cost including materials, when we did the job ourselves, was twenty-five pounds, and the work is as sound to-day as when it was done.
In planning we had five guiding principles. The buildings had to be adequate for the purpose, cheap to construct, convenient for use, lasting, and pleasing to the eye.
If others plan to build on similar lines in the future I should remind them that farm buildings now have to be approved by the local authorities before work can commence, and if a cowshed is involved it will be necessary to know the requirements of the County Agricultural Authority, as almost every area has a different standard. It is possible for there to be two cowsheds within sight of one another, identical in construction, but in different counties-one being passed for the production of the highest-grade milk, and the other rejected; which indicates that there should be a national standard. Personally I am of the opinion that the man in charge is of far greater importance for the production of clean milk than a five- or five-and-a-half-foot standing, but the County Organizers, never having milked a cow before five o'clock in the morning, know better, and it may be that Oxfordshire and Berkshire cows muck in a different place. In view of these variations we do not show any measurements on the sketch map of the buildings, as we do not wish to get anyone into trouble by using our dimensions, or cause our local authority any loss of sleep, to think that in their county, of all counties, there should be a cowshed with the wrong-sized gutter. Though in actual fact our standings were designed for Jerseys, and after twenty years we would not vary them by an inch.
From the general description of the farm earlier in the book, and from the plan on page one hundred forty-two, it will be seen that the building originally consisted of a large Cotswold barn, with stable attached, and a long open shed, which on the west side served to house cattle lying in the large open yard, and on the east at one end making a cartshed. The barn and stable were stone-roofed, while the open shed was thatched. The yard seemed bottomless when we first cleaned it out, and a horse would sink in to his knees unless there was plenty of straw.
One of the first alterations was to put a wooden floor in one end of the barn (as we did not intend to use it for stacking corn). This gave us the same floor space for tipping grain, but also room to house the incubators, as the walls were very thick and with the floor above gave us an even temperature. In later years the other half of the barn has been fitted with corn bins for the storage of feeding stuffs, which in the early days had to be shot on the floor.
Then we built an open shed on the south side of the barn for cattle to lie in, as we intended to use the original open shed as a cowshed; this was done by fitting roof lighting and walling up the front, the thatched roof being replaced by corrugated iron-painted, as all iron and asbestos is on the farm, a dark green. There was sufficient width for a feeding passage, mangers, and the usual tubular standings for the cows, which were fitted in due course. As an example of difference in cost, a local builder quoted thirty pounds to put on the corrugated roof, we to provide all materials-it took my brother and me exactly a week, besides doing our usual stock work.
As the herd increased in numbers, and it will be remembered that they had to pay for the buildings out of profits, two covered yards were added. Meanwhile we had dumped many loads of stone in the bottom of the large yard, with smaller material on top, and concreted over the whole surface, making a yard which could be cleaned up thoroughly. Then a bull box and calf pens were built into the old stable, for with the reduction of horses, they could be housed in loose-boxes when necessary. A new cart-shed was built, the old one being converted into an isolation box, for it had no direct communication with the main buildings, and was later deemed sufficient under the Attested Herd regulations.
The silo is placed where it is easy to fill, either by hand or cutter blower, and close to the stock for feeding. Running water has been arranged for troughs in two of the yards, while there are taps in the cowshed, calf pens, barn, and isolation box, to save labour in carrying water; and the whole buildings area, including the road round it, can be swilled down.
The dutch barns are just across the road, convenient for hay and straw in the winter. One of them has been walled in on one side and one end, so that it can be used for a cartshed, or covered yard, when not required for corn, hay, or straw. We usually lamb the ewes there, for space is available in the spring.
The total cost of the alterations and additions, without labour, was three hundred pounds. The dutch barns cost another one hundred thirty pounds: using asbestos sheeting on these adding to the cost somewhat. Levelling the site and building the barns involved five hundred man-hours, more than half of which were spent on preparing the site.
The pig-house, mentioned in the chapter on pigs, cost just over two hundred fifty pounds, and took every spare moment for over a year to complete it. To level the site we had to move over a hundred tons of soil by wheelbarrow, but it was well worth the labour involved, for it enabled us to have a ramp at the end from which pigs and manure can be loaded without lifting, and meal taken in from a lorry as easily, while underneath is the liquid manure tank, from which thousands of gallons have been taken for use on the land. The system of lighting the house is unusual, being roof lighting along the whole length of the feeding passage; this makes the pens light and the dunging passage dark, which ensures the pigs keeping their beds clean. One visitor was shown round and everything explained,
without his saying a word, but finally he exclaimed, 'Humph! Pigs in the drawing-room, but gosh they do look well!'
On the top of the pig-house is a water tank, which supplies the whole set of buildings, a three-quarter horsepower engine being used to pump the water direct from the spring, at the rate of two thousand gallons per hour.
The brooder house, for rearing chickens up to eight weeks old, is constructed with asbestos and lined in the same way as the pig-house. Roof lighting is also similar, but in addition the whole of the glass front can be opened back to allow all the sun's rays to reach the chickens at all seasons of the year. With air-extracting ventilators in the roof and insulated walls, roof, and floor, it is possible to maintain the house at an even temperature, a most important feature if chickens are to be reared successfully. The materials used in the construction of this building cost one hundred ten pounds.
At a total cost of seven hundred ninety pounds most people agree we have a good set of buildings, but by doing the work ourselves, and often having to leave a job unfinished for months, we were able to achieve our purpose. The expenditure was spread over a number of years, for it will be remembered we planned to live on the income from stock, leaving income from grain for debt repayment and improvements. Each class of stock had to pay out of paper profits for their own buildings. If we had used the money for general expenses, then the corn cheque when it came could be used for the improvement that particular section of stock was entitled to, according to the books.
The building of the road, across the swampy piece of common land and into the farm, was almost the biggest task we have ever undertaken. A distance of six hundred sixty yards involved the quarrying, carting, spreading, and breaking of over a thousand tons of stone. It took us ten years to complete, when we had a tarmac surface put upon it, and now it can carry the heaviest type of lorry, threshing engine, and, to our sorrow, heavy army tanks. What price could be put upon a construction of this description we do not know. A previous owner once had a quotation for one thousand two hundred pounds, rather more than the whole farm was worth at the time, so it was never done. In our case we had only to give our time and labour, apart from tar and sand. To us, who have hauled out bogged carts from the swamp, had horses go in up to their bodies, and on one occasion spent a week getting a threshing engine from the council road to the rickyard, it has seemed well worth while. The trouble we took, draining away springs, deepening ditches, building three bridges, seems to have been well justified when a lorry and trailer can come in, turn round without shunting, and go out with twenty tons of potatoes or wheat.
In August nineteen thirty-nine my brother decided to get married in the following spring, and we therefore needed another house. It had long been his desire to build a house of his own design, so here was the opportunity.
Now we have always considered that no more money should be spent upon a property than it should be worth in the open market. You sometimes see an advertisement in the agricultural papers, 'Small Farm, seven thousand pounds freehold. Twenty thousand pounds spent on the buildings fifteen years ago.' Now Oathill is not, and never has been, a rich man's hobby, but an economic proposition from the day we took over, so we decided one thousand pounds should be the maximum cost, and with any other improvements we have carried out, the whole property would be well worth our total expenditure over the years.
This was perhaps a little hard on my brother who wanted every comfort and convenience, such as central heating, large windows, cloakroom with heated cupboards for wet coats, hot and cold water everywhere, and other refinements. However, we have had a lot of practice in 'making the garment fit the cloth', and I had every confidence he would do it.
Had the times been normal he would probably have built it brick by brick, but we were very busy changing over our farming system from peace to war, as described in another chapter; we also had several other irons in the fire, so for the first time we employed a builder.
But first the rough plans were made and taken to a local architect, recommended by the Rural District Council, for without their approval nothing can be built. After this my brother consulted his fiancee, whose requirements were simple-it should be warm in winter and have plenty of cupboard space. Her life in a large Suffolk house (believed to have been owned by John Winthrop, who sailed with the Pilgrim Fathers to America) which was impossible to keep warm, and had few cupboards, undoubtedly prompted her ideas as to an ideal house. He also showed the plans to many of his friends, asking for their criticisms, and received several excellent suggestions.
By then war had been declared, but we had purchased all the materials, and had them delivered on to the site or into the farm buildings. The only part not received was the staircase, which a Midland firm had quoted for, claiming they could make up when required as they had the wood in stock.
We then approached the builders for quotations, materials in hand being contra-accounted against their quotations at cost. In other words, they would be paid simply for building the house. Quotations varied from one thousand four hundred twenty pounds down to nine hundred fifty pounds. After inspecting two houses built by the man giving the lowest quotation we accepted the tender, specifying that the house must be completed by the following March.
The foundations were laid in October, but wet weather caused delay and by Christmas the building was only up to the ground-floor window-sills. Then the hardest winter we ever knew set in and work was stopped for eight weeks. The ground was so hard that we could not even dig the trench three hundred yards long which was needed to take the water main. When the frost gave the brickwork had been damaged to such an extent that the 'house' had to be taken down again to the foundations. This was a great disappointment to my brother, as he always likes to keep to the schedule which he has in mind. However, a better house resulted from the delay, for the water system was replanned to guard against so severe a winter in the future, and no trouble was experienced in the following winter when we had another severe spell.
The position in early March, when the house should have been nearing completion, was the same as in October-i.e. only the foundations were laid. Another worry was that the small spring which was supplying the water for concrete mixing would run dry at any time, therefore we had to push on to getting the water main across the field. The trench was dug perfectly level at the bottom, through a hillside, so that there should be no air-locks in the waterpipe. This involved digging down to nine feet in parts of the field, some of the way through solid rock with a cold chisel and hammer, splitting off an inch or two at the time. How slow this seemed, with the other water supply failing. Finally we got through on a Saturday evening, the spring drying up on the Sunday.
The builder promised to put on several bricklayers, but never had more than one working; both the builder and his son were highly skilled carpenters but they were content to mix concrete and carry bricks, which any labourer would have been content to do at a shilling an hour, as they could not get on with their own work until the brickwork was more advanced. From our experience of planning work we knew they were wasting their time and money by not getting more bricklayers. Another annoyance was that they would not work a minute overtime, although they had not earned a penny for eight weeks.
Progress was slow, but as my brother was 'clerk of the works' nothing was skimped, and he had everything done thoroughly.
In late April we were ready for the staircase and wrote to the firm who had quoted for this, asking for delivery. They replied that they had used the timber for another job, and it would be necessary to get a permit to purchase. Our application for this was rejected, but our long experience in dealing with Government departments was equal to the occasion. Three identical forms were filled in and dispatched, two of which were again rejected, but the third brought the permit by return.
The builder had been drawing money from time to time, which meant that to all intents and purposes he was working for us, leaving a little money in hand. But one Friday night he came for money to pay the plasterers (this trade being highly skilled was being done by sub-contract), who wanted half the quoted price for the job. My brother asked if the work was more than half completed. The builder said he was sure it was. But no plasterers came on the Saturday or Monday. So the builder was instructed to see them, and was told they would not be coming again as they had got a job at more money in Oxford. We 'phoned the Labour Exchange and found they had plasterers on their books. So the builder was told to warn his plasterers that unless they were at work again by the end of the week we would have it completed by direct labour and sue them for the difference in cost. They promised to return on Friday, and did so, but this was another week lost.
In late June the builder came to the conclusion that he could not make a profit on the job, due, we considered, to his inability to organize his labour properly in the early stages; for we now believed we could have made a profit on the figure by direct labour.
Finally he told us one Friday that he would not be coming again, as he had joined the R.A.F. as a carpenter and had to go on the Monday. Fortunately my brother's varied experience of this class of work on the farm buildings was sufficient for him to complete the house unaided and he moved into the house in July nineteen forty.
After three years' occupation, both my brother and his wife say they would not alter anything in the design or construction, so it may be of sufficient interest to give details here which may interest those who are thinking of building in a rural district after the war.
Being in the Cotswold area the house had to be in keeping with the limestone-built houses of the district, but as cavity walls were desired for dryness, stone-coloured brick was used, which from a short distance gives the appearance of stone. The roof is of handmade sand-faced grey pantiles, which give the house an attractive appearance quite in keeping with the familiar Cotswold style.
All the timber used was Columbian pine, which after staining and polishing comes up rather like dark oak. All the floors are secret-nailed, so that no nail heads appear on the surface. Window frames are metal, with special hinges which permit the outside to be cleaned without leaning out of the window. The water is supplied from the never-failing springs at the farm buildings and goes by gravitation to the house. Water from this limestone soil is hard; so hard that a water softener is impracticable, and to overcome this a three hundred-gallon tank, with an overflow to the drains, has been built in over the coal store to collect all the rain from the roof. This closed tank, with an inspection plate for cleaning, appears sufficient for the purpose, for they have never been short of soft water. A pipe brings this water to the copper, which can be filled by a turn of the tap, which is sufficiently high to fill a jug or bucket as well if desired. There is also a tap at the bottom of the copper for emptying it; why most coppers have to be bailed out I cannot think, unless they were designed for women's use by men who have never had to do this unnecessary work.
Being two miles from a village and eight from a town there is no electricity, gas, or main drainage. This house has therefore been fitted with a large septic tank, which seems a most efficient method of draining.
The hall, cloak-room, scullery, and larder have buff-tiled floors; window sills for these rooms are also made from the same material. In the larder there is a white-tiled shelf, two feet wide and four feet long, in addition to seven eleven-inch shelves running along the two longest walls.
seems like spring on a winter's day, as there is a gentle heat from the hidden radiator.
A radiator is also fitted in the hall, in a narrow recess under the stairs so that there is no risk of hitting it with a tea trolley or of a child running into it. Near the kitchen door there is a large cupboard with shelves and space for brooms, etc. The cupboard under the stairs is entered from the kitchen.
The cloak-room is fitted with a steel cupboard-hot-water pipe running under it-with holes in the bottom so that hot air rising through it will dry coats overnight. This is a special blessing for an outdoor worker in very wet weather. A compartment at one end has shelves for boots and shoes, the bottom shelf being used to dry them when necessary. A steel seat between the cupboard and the wash-basin is so designed that Wellington rubber boots can be stored, for it does not do to keep them in a heated compartment. It will be appreciated from the plan that this room can be entered from the scullery or the hall. The objection that if the latter door were left open it would give a visitor at the front door a view of the wash-basin and so on was overcome by fitting a door-closer.
The kitchen has white tiles behind the oil cooker and above this there is a ventilator, taken into the chimney stack to carry off the heat and smell of cooking. Provision was also made so that a range could be fitted at a later date if desired.
In the scullery there is a sink eight inches deep and the bottom is set thirty inches off the floor-the plumber thought it was quite mad to fit a sink so high-for most sinks are set too low, and why should a woman have to bend her back when working there? There is a draining board each side of the sink and below there are cupboards with shelves. The position of the copper and boiler will be seen on the plan (the recess in which they stand had been tiled, and anthracite coal can be shovelled from the coal store to the boiler quite easily). There is a clothes-dryer, on pulleys in the ceiling, running full length of the room and in wet weather the washing can be dried without trouble as there is a certain amount of heat rising from the boiler. This has been especially useful since the baby arrived. Between the draining board and back door there is sufficient space for the 'mangel-cum-table' to stand.
On the second floor, in number one bedroom there is a large cupboard-between the door and the bay window-with the usual wardrobe fittings, and above is a small cupboard for hats, etc. A hot pipe passes up one side, so that clothes are always aired. There is another small cupboard at the side of the fireplace for shoes, with four shelves in it. The radiator is in the bay. My brother could not find a fireplace to please him, so he designed one he thought his wife would like, and was, I think, much relieved when she did express her approval.
Number two bedroom has a small radiator under the window and again the cupboard has a hot pipe passing through it.
In number three bedroom there is a large radiator between the two east windows as this is likely to be the coldest room, for the east winds can be very cold on our side of the Cotswolds! Again there is a large cupboard with a small one above. There is also a fitted basin in this and Number two bedroom, which my brother added in completing the house, at a cost of less than ten pounds, for it occurred to him that with the fitted basin only in the bathroom there might be some delay when visitors were washing. It may have also occurred to the reader that we both have a horror of wasting time!
The bathroom has the usual fittings, including a hot towel rail and a large airing cupboard, which does not have the hot-water tank in it, for tanks often take up too much room in airing cupboards, but pipes passing backwards and forwards across the back. The hot tank is in the scullery above the boiler and copper, as the greatest efficiency is obtained by having this as close as possible to the boiler.
Above the landing there is a trapdoor into the roof space, the ceiling rafters of the bedrooms being boarded over; this makes a good store for apples, etc. The roof is felted, under the tiles-there are also hot pipes crossing, which prevents freezing. These pipes are lagged but even so there is a certain amount of heat from them.
The reader may wonder why there is no garage, but as they did not want one for the duration of the war this was not included, though it will be seen on the plan that space has been provided for it. If by the time the war is over and the world settles down, the family plane is the common mode of transport, then they will only have to build it with a door in the back through which to wheel the plane from the field, instead of driving the car up the driveway. It will be noticed that we still plan for the future!
I wonder what faults other people may be able to see in the plans of the house, or from my failure to describe the fittings? But I do suggest that it is a very comfortable and convenient place to live in, one which should be within the reach of most people who require a three-bedroom house, on the small new farms which I sincerely hope will be a feature of the English countryside.