Purchasing land was an even bigger venture then

THE recent death of my mother-in-law Rose has been the occasion for much trawling of family memories to recall the full and creative life that she led.

Born into a farming family on a tenanted farm, her childhood, teenage and early twenties centred on the farm her family moved to when she was ten years old. An optimistic venture in the twenties when to purchase land was an even bigger gamble than it is now.

From five years old she walked along country lanes for two or three miles to attend the village school. Cocoa for lunch was heated on the little tortoise stove that doubled up to keep the whole school warm.

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She left school at fourteen to help out at home. Denied the opportunity to go to grammar school because her father did not see the value of education for girls, the land army represented a unforeseen chance for independence, and later romance, when she married Bill, the herdsman at the farm where she worked.

But her youth on the family farm, participation in village activities such as the cricket team, Sunday school, pantomimes, chapel, whist drives, singing, delivering eggs and butter for her mother, all left an abiding memory of a happy and satisfying life.

Similarly the land army, gave her the self esteem of a job well done and friends made for life. She often spoke of working in all weathers , driving tractors, clearing dikes, hoeing fields, tending livestock and the pride she took in supporting the war effort.

But marriage and motherhood were her greatest fulfilment.

"My mother was never idle" John said."I never saw her just sitting. She was either, cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, gardening, tending calves, rearing poultry, flower arranging and perhaps the skill that she was best known for, corn dolly making."

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And just as her own family had made the move from tenanted farm to farm ownership, she pushed her sons into doing the same. Supporting them all the way. John's father had been a farm manger until John left agricultural college, and then the whole family took the plunge so that Rose could attain her dream of her boys being on their own farm again.

"The first year was dreadful" she often recalled. "We only had nine cows to milk and one of them died two days after we got it home.

"The hay rotted in the field as it was so wet. Our machinery was so old it kept breaking down." But she got them through.

Settled, her creative skills flourished. Always on call to decorate a chapel with flowers, put up a stall at a country show to demonstrate corn dollies, read poetry in dialect.

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An uncle whom she had cared for left her a small cottage. She returned there to live and immediately took over the maintenance of the village green and immersed herself in village life.

She came to live with us when it because difficult for her to manage alone. So many people have written to say how much they admired and respected her and her rich, farming life.

I doubt many of us will leave such a mark.