I am not sure if I have shared this old photo before. It's from my old blog and usually I indicate that I have transferred it. It could be a repeat.
This was taken on one of my weekend trips to see family in Worcestershire. It was in 1973, a couple of years before I met Gregg. At the time my Mum, Dad and I were living in South Devon, and I hadn't long become mobile. I had saved every penny I could to buy an old grey Mini Cooper. I loved that old car, it gave me wings and the freedom to visit any time I was invited. The distance was 158 miles and for me back then it was like driving to the other side of the moon.
My family also lived in a small village and they had farming friends down the road. We would often walk over for a chat. It was also a chance to see the farm animals, which was an extra bonus. There were times when we would hop on the back of their pick-up truck, and help roll out the bales of hay for the animals to feed. I loved that!
But I especially loved it when there was a newborn lamb to be taken care of. Their farmhouse had been in their family for several generations, probably 300 hundred years old and then some. I can't really remember what the outside looked like, maintained beautifully I know that. I do remember being impressed with how old it looked, like off a movie set, not that I thought in those terms back then. We walked across a large courtyard to reach the kitchen, which was the biggest I had ever seen. At my age now I love these old places and would have taken in every detail, but back then I was more interested in the animals, as I am now.
I have always thanked my father and his mother for passing on their love of animals. My mother too, especially as she did not grow up with them. After they married they adopted their first dog. I have an old photo of mum and Skipper. He was wearing dad’s old sailor hat. I will find it sometime and share.
We also had another Skipper. I am not sure why they called him the same name. I stunned my mother years later when I described the scene, being held in her arms as a two-year old, as dad holding Skipper 2, then a puppy, was brought into the back garden and introduced to me. I sometimes think back and remember it as clearly as the day I told my memory to my mother.
Anyhow, head in the clouds again and back to the farmhouse. The inside walls were whitewashed and on the ceiling were low beams, something I do remember. The first thing that greeted the eyes on the other side of this large kitchen, was a walk-in fireplace. It was a couple of feet above my head and very, very wide, with a roaring fire that was extremely cozy and welcoming after coming in from the cold. We were always given a cup of hot tea and a biscuit. But the object I was really interested in, was the box placed near the fireplace filled with blankets.
In this box were the new lambs whose mothers, for one reason or another, were not able to take care of them. I would often be given a bottle of milk to feed them and, if I could have taken one home with me, I would have been a very happy girl.
That never happened of course, but I was content with the opportunity of taking care of these sweet little lambs because before I knew it, the weekend was over and I was heading south again.
Thanks for visiting, happy Sunday, and
I hope your week is a great one.
