Outdoors Les Davies MBE

West Countryman’s diary

JANUARY began with some of the wettest weather we have seen in a while. Chew Valley Lake is certainly well on the way to capacity, if it’s not there already. A recent trip onto the moors around Bridgwater revealed the River Parrett just below the extra height that was added as part of the flood defences in 2014. Again we are being reminded that winters will become wetter and warmer whilst summers may well be hotter and dryer. As with all things, only time will reveal the true answer.

Back in 1963, 60 years back now, we were at the start of one of the hardest winters on record. Freezing conditions and snow drifts that lasted until the end of March tended to knock the “shine” off snow, even for a ten-year-old boy!

It started snowing on Boxing Day ’62. I remember being in the top cowshed at home, carrying out my duties of filling the cow cake bowl, which was given to each animal to keep it quiet and contented during milking.

There were no doors on the building, so it was easy to look out at the wonder of snow falling in anticipation of something like a moderate covering. How my expectations were to be exceeded!

Heavy snow and blizzard conditions followed and temperatures plummeted. Life became a matter of survival for humans and animals alike. Thankfully all the dairy cattle were confined to the sheds, as was the practice of the day. Sufficient feed stock was already laid in for the winter and close at hand, so no extra rationing was required.

Beef cattle, however, were still in the fields and required daily feeding with extra rations as no grass was available. Ice had to be broken on drinking troughs on a regular basis and fires lit around the water pipes that fed them.

The astute amongst you will realise that blue plastic pipe, so common these days, was not in use then. It was only galvanised steel and that wasn’t helped by the fires being constantly lit around them. Even the tractors wore “overcoats” of heavy hessian sacks to keep out the cold as they sheltered in the stone building by night.

What about us humans though? Well, it has to be remembered that central heating was something that other people had. The only heating in our house was the kitchen Rayburn, a solid fuel range that provided heat, cooking and hot water. This was kept in 24 hours a day with the help of coal and wood.

A large kettle of water was kept on the hot plate bubbling away, spitting out small drops of water which would then scurry about like some demented dancer before evaporating and leaving only a small blob of lime.

This was accompanied by the comforting sound of the kettle lid lifting under the steam and clanking back down again once the pressure was released. Now I can imagine the young James Watt sitting and watching his mother’s kettle doing the same before he realised the power of steam!

With LES DAVIES MBE

With all this snow, the days also became a winter wonderland in the woods and fields. Another plus was the village school had to shut . . . YES! Although there were small jobs to be done, there was still time to take advantage of the conditions and in one outdoor loft I found a toboggan that had been made by my uncle Dennis.

I can remember it now – a wooden structure painted blue with a broad white arrow down the centre. It had low runners and was proudly named “The Tickenham Torpedo”. Oh, and didn’t it go! Unfortunately, being so low I would be covered in snow and soaking wet by the time I got to the bottom of the field.

The famous five of me, Bob McEwen Smith, his two sisters, Elizabeth and Elaine, watched over by Sweep the dog, had hours of fun. We even progressed to a sheet of tin about six feet long and two feet wide.

Bent up in a curve at the end they were supersonic on the frozen surface of the snow and the only way to stop them was to roll off and let the hedgerow do the arrestor work. How we weren’t injured is a miracle, but we were young, wild-headed and unafraid.

Whilst we spent our days in the winter landscape others had to earn a living. Another of my uncles is Len Tavener, who made a guest appearance as one of the cast in my version of “Last of the Summer Wine” when Bob, Len and myself paid a nostalgic visit to the fields, hedgerows and woods of Hales Farm a while back.

He walked to work every day from the farm to Ashton Gate, Bristol, where he was serving his agricultural mechanics apprenticeship. He recalls clearing snow with a tractor from around the stands and car parks of Bristol City Football Club.

Meanwhile a mate of his was sent to Mendip with another tractor shovel to clear roads and tracks for the council. On his way back at night he would come in home for a hot brew. In return he cleared the farmyard of snow, piling it up in a huge heap. That heap was still there at Easter!

Some people of my age have wondered if anyone these days could manage the conditions we did back then? My answer is yes, they could. Resilience is a wonderful thing and cometh the need then cometh the people!

Such an example of need and response is shown here with East Harptree farmer Jon King dropping a dung spreader into the entrance at Stockhill Forest to prevent access for another illegal rave. An improved barrier will be installed in time, but such prompt action saved the day.

Roll on spring!