When I was a young boy maybe five or six.

My uncle George sowed the corn with a horse drawn drill.

You come along oh me boy he would say and we would walk the field behind his horse.

I only had little legs and when I got tired he would sit me on the cross brace between the shafts.

The horse would flick his tail to keep the flies away and hit me round the face without fail.

I wouldn’t be allowed to sit there now health and safety would have a fit.

If I had fallen of I would have been run over by the drill and chopped into little bits.

I loved my uncle George he told me such tall tales.

A kinder man I would be pleased to meet.

He lived the life of a countryman growing veg hunting rabbits with his dog getting water from a well.

He fed his family from his garden and when we walked across the field I would run him to greet.

He would show me his garden and the rabbits he was breeding I think they all ate well.

His cottage was always cool and a little dark.

His whippet laying on a chaise long slightly odd but true.

A toilet outside no bathroom in the house.

But he always seemed happy.