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MENDIP TIMES
West Countryman’s diary
HERE I am writing for June! Whilst I constantly ask “Where does the time go?” it still doesn’t make any difference and no one listens to me. At least With LES DAVIES MBE the days don’t drag with constantly looking at a clock that only seems to have moved a few minutes since you last looked at it. Thankfully the only clock watching I do is to see how much time I have left and not what has gone by. That’s why I like a watch with hands on it . . . it will tell me how much time is left. Digital watches, however, (are there such things now, or have they been assigned to the scrap heap of our memories like flared trousers and “kipper” ties?) only told you what the time was at that particular moment. Talking a load of “twaddle” again or is there something behind this line of thought? Well yes, there is to my mind! No-one knows what is happening tomorrow, so let’s live for now and enjoy what we have. I remember an amusing story of a village vicar who had been contacted by one of his congregation. This person was very well organised and had made all the arrangements for his own funeral that would undoubtedly happen in the future. The vicar politely listened to the wishes for the order of service, hymns and readings. Finally, as the conversation reached the end, the vicar quite simply asked: “Now, have you got a date so I can get it in the diary?” Nostalgia is certainly not what it used to be, but memories are real and can be rekindled in many ways. My memories of a countryside that has changed and will never return is constantly being updated. A recent meeting with a life-long friend, who I had not seen for a while, was to bring some of these memories back. Bob McEwen-Smith and I grew up together on Hales Farm. We played and fought as all small boys do from time to time and also worked together, both in our teenage years and later. We engaged in all PAGE 52 • MENDIP TIMES • JUNE 2022
the pursuits that boys who grew up in the countryside in those days knew. We went bird nesting, shooting and ferreting for rabbits. We knew what birds nested where and what animals left what tracks and where they could be found. Whereas these boyhood days seemed hedonistic, we were still expected to work. One of the jobs was helping with the movement of cattle from the high ground of Hales Farm to the low lying Tickenham Moor. This was carried out in the spring as conditions on the moor improved and the reverse when the autumn heralded the onset of a wet winter. The movement was done by walking the cattle onto the moor by road; in fact we were drovers in the time honoured way that had been practised since the middle ages and before. It seems unbelievable now that these animals were driven a distance of over three miles on a public road. You would think twice about driving them just down the road in today’s traffic. There were garden gates that had to be closed before the cattle could get onto the manicured front gardens, trample the lawns and flower beds before leaving a generous donation of dung over everything. As boys our job was to shut these gates ahead of the herd and keep in front! The pressure only came off when these gambolling animals were turned off the main road and down Moor Lane to the main drove. This all leads me onto the moor itself, where I met up with Bob again. I had been invited down to shoot a few clay targets, with some other friends on the land Bob still owns there. Like the cattle, I turned off the main B3138 road in Middletown and drove toward the moor. Memories came back of riding home on top of a trailer load of hay and grabbing the plums from the trees that overhung the lane. Further down is the hump back of the stone “bow” bridge that crosses the Middle Yeo and then to the gate at the start of the drove. The little stream here is where we would end up on nature walks from Tickenham village school. Willows overhung the banks back then, but they are all gone now. The drove itself stretches for nearly a
OUTDOORS
mile. Its purpose is to allow access for owners to the land along its length. My memories of this track were of deep ruts, filled with stone whenever it could be brought down. It was loaded and unloaded by hand, as there was no such thing as a hydraulic tipping trailer on the farm. Movement along the drove was slow and painful. Trailers twisted and creaked as they were slowly pulled along its length and a careful course had to be driven for fear of overturning the load. Now the whole surface was level and stoned, not a single rut in sight! I worked it out that it had been 40 years since I was last there. I pulled the last 200 bales off these moor grounds before the farm was sold. At the time I had a 1958 B450 International tractor that I was restoring. The land was still there but it had changed. There are fewer thorn bushes alongside the rhynes these days, providing shade for the cattle in hot weather and shelter in bad. The Boundary Rhyne was still there dividing Tickenham and Nailsea Moors. Here I fished for roach and learnt to “skim” stones. It looks smaller than I could remember. In the distance I could see the church tower at Nailsea West End where I had moved into spare rooms at the vicarage when first married. All such a long time ago, but as my dear old mother used to say: “That was then and this is now!” Hang onto memories, they can at times be a great comfort. Don’t forget to come and visit the Environmental Youth Awards in the Dulverton Pavilion in the woodland and countryside area when you come to this year’s Royal Bath and West Show, June 2nd-4th. The Mendip Hills AONB Young Rangers will be joining us on the Saturday. Finally this month’s picture shows my B450 driving the threshing drum at the Somerset Rural Life Museum in the early 1980s. The “Herbert” getting off the tractor is me!
