The following article was originally printed in the Parish Review of St. John’s Church Ranmoor. It was suggested that the people who know Roy and the location of ‘Misery Farm’ would like to read this and the joint authors were delighted that the article would reach a wider audience.
Roy has been coming to St John’s for as long as I can remember but his memory for dates is better than mine. There is no danger that I will forget a family birthday because Roy alsways warns me when it is coming up. Everyone at St John’s and the the Ranmoor Inn knows Roy but probably few know how deeply rooted he is in the rural communities of north east Derbyshire.
“We lived at Misery Farm” – well that’s what my Dad used to call it.
My Dad was a farmer and my cousins were farmers. He kept fat cows for slaughtering. My mother kept fowls. On Monday we used to go to Bakewell to buy some cattle for the abattoir.
When we lived on the farm in 1940’s, it weren’t fit to live in; we were cold all the time. It had no running water and no electricity; we turned the light on with a chain.
We got up by candlelight in the winter. Later we went down to live in Charlie Smith’s bungalow where there was electric light and a gas fire to keep us warm. Jack Newton hasgot our place now and made a manison of it. He’s knocked down the Crew Yard where my father used to keep beasts.
My father wasn’t well; he had diabetes and was a heavy smoker. He was helped by Harry Turner who worked for the Council. Every Sunday morning if it didn’t snow Harry would come and have a couple of hours with my Dad. Frank used to come too. He used to stay to dinner and take up a lot of room which didn’t please my Mam. Whe would wink at him when it was 2 o’clock and it was time to go. Frank Bolsover used to deliver taters and fruit and veg; I used to walk across his fields. Maurice Barker used to come and meet my Dad at 6.o’clock on a Sunday and walk around the farms with my Dad.
My father kept some pigs but mainly fat cows. He’d grow mangels and turnips for the cattle feed – and taters. We’d have to put straw to stop the frost getting to them.
Then we would have to get the mangels up sharpish if there was late frost coming. We’d keep taters in the shed. Now they grow rape, on them fields – one year rape, the next wheat. The rape gives the field a rest. But my Dad never grew rape; he grew barley and wheat. In the winter he’d keep his beast on slats – indoors. Then he’d turn them out in May. b#Before then he would have to put new fencing in to stop them breaking into the corn. He went down with wire in a trailer. We used to have lots of youths come after the apples which upset Dad. He used to graze hundred acres over Renishaw way. The cows just wouldn’t keep from the gardens. As soon as they got to the bottom of the hill they went on the gardens. I remember the swans sailing across the water there.
My mother kept fowls and wore a long cloak. The dance was good Margaret Coggins used to make the music up because we didn’t have an organ. We danced the Hokey Cokey. I remember the Harvest Supper in October when we had sandwiches. My mother would wear white shoes to dance in. My sister was in the choir when Mr Bliss was vicar. She wore a purple goven and a special hat. Whilst we were on the farm we had some right dangeous floods. The dirty water came into the house and made me ill. When it flooded the house who lumps of sludge filled the rooms.
My family still farms, Raymond Woolley has short horn cattle and two farms at Plumbley and Brian farms Church Farm at Ridgeway. The had taters at Plumbley but they culdn’t get the pickers so now they grow corn. Brian used to have a lot of sheep. When he lambed them he put the lambs on the bales with electric light to give them a bit of warmth. He had a lot of fowls. He’d give the eggs three weeks and then start to warm them. I used to water the trough and keep them plied with water filling them right to the top. Brian and Raymond now have a combine.
John Woolley still keeps sows and his wife keeps sows and his wife keeps a donkey because she wants to ride it. Raymond’s wife is always pleased to see me. Brian ‘s lad runs the abattoir up Halfway. John keeps sows and bottles the pigs.
We had a dog called Paddy but he could bite and when it was thundering and lightning he would run from his kennel. My mother was in bed on a Sunday afternoon when the thunder was banging. I ran out and my Mum said, “You’re not going” She opened the window to try to stop me but I went. I stopped inthe Twenty Cow Barn until it stopped. My sister used to have a dog called Billy and she misses him.
I used to go to Mosborough School but I think they knocked it down. I went to chapel at Mosborough Methodist. They’ve made it a nice place place to sit with chairs – no forms. Sometimes I go on a Sunday to my sister Marguerite. She always puts on a good spread. On Mothering Sunday I took her some flowere. Dave is a right good husband. He rolls up his sleeves and gets on with it. He doesn’t smoke and I don’t smoke. it’s no good for you. Marguerite’s son Paul lives up Hardwick Lane, Todwick. He’s got a lot of fowls coming. Lynn his wife, is a police woman. I am going to look at Stuart’s new house when I next go to my sister’s. Most of my family are from Ridgeway and Mosborough. One cousin lives in Australia.
I don’t want to go back to the farm but I really like to visit farms and look at the beasts. Their sheep are lambing now, a lot with little lambs. Sometimes I go to Scarborough. Every Monday I have a friend comes and we go all over to Crystal Peaks and have a bit of food. I come back by tram. On Sundays I go to the morning service and then have some coffee across the road. them I go home for lunch. After lunch if I can, I walk up to the riding stables and back in time for tea. Then I go to evening service. I like the vicar. He puts some good service on, both night and morning. I like the singing. some evenings I go to the Ranmoor Inn. That’s nice row that we don’t have to smell the smoke. I am 72 now. My birthday is on the 16th December. I am well and I have never been in hospital. When Oakbrook View closes I hope to live round here in Ranmoor.
Roy Woolley and Mary Grover.
