Living in the Past: A Northern Irish Memoir by Arthur Magennis Page A
Authors: Arthur Magennis
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tied to the bottom on each side. Then another grass rope would be put about three feet from the first and so on around the pack.
The reason the grass ropes were not tied to the pack was because as the hay was pulled from the pack every morning and evening to feed the cattle and horses, the pack shrunk and during the winter months the grass rope would have become loose and the first gale would have lifted the hay and blown it away. But the bricks kept the ropes taut.
When a farmer got up in the morning, his first job was to feed the stock. He would boil a kettle for his tea and in the press he would find a large griddle-sized soda bread. He would tear off a piece and sit down with his tea and that would keep him going until breakfast. Soda bread would fill him and he wouldn’t be hungry, whereas, if he had a slice of white bread from a loaf, he would be starving in a short time.
As soon as the livestock heard his feet they set up a chorus – cows, young calves and horses all at the same time. He would start pulling hay from the pack and carrying it into the byre, as large an armful as he could carry between each pair of cows in the byre, because each stall held two animals. Then he would fill the horses’ manger. Next he would start the milking because the creamery man would come later with his horse and cart to pick up his milk churns, and then he would have his breakfast.
The packs of hay were measured by leaning against the pack while facing it with outstretched arms and going around the pack and counting how many stretches were needed to circumnavigate the pack. A pitchfork was first placed at the spot you started so you counted until you reached the pitchfork when you came round again. This was called a faddam, which I suppose meant a fathom.
Jemmy Hat used to buy hay and one day when he came to measure the pack, or faddam, as he would say, he placed his fork against the pack and started to faddam. When he came round again to where he had started he stood looking for a while at the man who was selling the hay. The man had been standing where Jemmy had placed the pitchfork, and the Hat had a turn in his eye so it was difficult to tell if he was looking at the man or over his shoulder.
Eventually, he said, “Buh, buh. I’ll faddam it again and this time you come with me to make sure I’m not cheating.” A very subtle way of informing the man that he didn’t trust him and thought that the pitch fork may have been moved. The Hat was an old hand and he could estimate roughly how much hay was in the pack just by observation.
One hot summer day, Peter Gartland, our neighbour across the road, was drawing home the hay and building it in packs in the yard for the winter feed. When the job was finished, as was the custom, he sent down to the pub for whiskey to treat the men. Whiskey was quite a luxury then as not many people could afford the price. In a short time the men were all more or less drunk and they just stretched out on the grass along the roadside, and most of them fell asleep in the sun.
A travelling salesman who was coming to our shop and who was new to the district saw one of them lying in the grass and he asked him where Magennis’s shop was. As he related to my father later, the man muttered, “Hup, hup,” still talking to his horse, so the rep continued on his way until he came to another man lying in the grass and he asked him the same question. This man was lying on his side with one hand tucked into his trouser pocket and, without opening his eyes he pointed with his leg in the right direction and snored away. The traveller was disgusted.
“That is the laziest act I have ever seen. If you can show me a lazier act than that I’ll give you a shilling,” he said.
The man rolled a bit further over and raised his hand slightly to leave a space in his pocket and said, “Just drop it in there.” I think the traveller paid up.
Peter Gartland had a black collie dog called Kruger after the South
The reason the grass ropes were not tied to the pack was because as the hay was pulled from the pack every morning and evening to feed the cattle and horses, the pack shrunk and during the winter months the grass rope would have become loose and the first gale would have lifted the hay and blown it away. But the bricks kept the ropes taut.
When a farmer got up in the morning, his first job was to feed the stock. He would boil a kettle for his tea and in the press he would find a large griddle-sized soda bread. He would tear off a piece and sit down with his tea and that would keep him going until breakfast. Soda bread would fill him and he wouldn’t be hungry, whereas, if he had a slice of white bread from a loaf, he would be starving in a short time.
As soon as the livestock heard his feet they set up a chorus – cows, young calves and horses all at the same time. He would start pulling hay from the pack and carrying it into the byre, as large an armful as he could carry between each pair of cows in the byre, because each stall held two animals. Then he would fill the horses’ manger. Next he would start the milking because the creamery man would come later with his horse and cart to pick up his milk churns, and then he would have his breakfast.
The packs of hay were measured by leaning against the pack while facing it with outstretched arms and going around the pack and counting how many stretches were needed to circumnavigate the pack. A pitchfork was first placed at the spot you started so you counted until you reached the pitchfork when you came round again. This was called a faddam, which I suppose meant a fathom.
Jemmy Hat used to buy hay and one day when he came to measure the pack, or faddam, as he would say, he placed his fork against the pack and started to faddam. When he came round again to where he had started he stood looking for a while at the man who was selling the hay. The man had been standing where Jemmy had placed the pitchfork, and the Hat had a turn in his eye so it was difficult to tell if he was looking at the man or over his shoulder.
Eventually, he said, “Buh, buh. I’ll faddam it again and this time you come with me to make sure I’m not cheating.” A very subtle way of informing the man that he didn’t trust him and thought that the pitch fork may have been moved. The Hat was an old hand and he could estimate roughly how much hay was in the pack just by observation.
One hot summer day, Peter Gartland, our neighbour across the road, was drawing home the hay and building it in packs in the yard for the winter feed. When the job was finished, as was the custom, he sent down to the pub for whiskey to treat the men. Whiskey was quite a luxury then as not many people could afford the price. In a short time the men were all more or less drunk and they just stretched out on the grass along the roadside, and most of them fell asleep in the sun.
A travelling salesman who was coming to our shop and who was new to the district saw one of them lying in the grass and he asked him where Magennis’s shop was. As he related to my father later, the man muttered, “Hup, hup,” still talking to his horse, so the rep continued on his way until he came to another man lying in the grass and he asked him the same question. This man was lying on his side with one hand tucked into his trouser pocket and, without opening his eyes he pointed with his leg in the right direction and snored away. The traveller was disgusted.
“That is the laziest act I have ever seen. If you can show me a lazier act than that I’ll give you a shilling,” he said.
The man rolled a bit further over and raised his hand slightly to leave a space in his pocket and said, “Just drop it in there.” I think the traveller paid up.
Peter Gartland had a black collie dog called Kruger after the South
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