here was the most incredible character, in her creaking van, bump started, tied together with bailer twine, sacks, straw and all sorts of God knows what inside, silently coasting down the hill to grind to a halt at our front gate. Betty would heave her not inconsiderable figure out. Dressed in very thick country clothes, she would bustle her way round to the back of the van for the milk bottles. Constantly talking, repeating everything twice and asking questions, that only she could answer. She was unique and had a generous nature. âWill it rain?â and âDo you think it will rain?â âI donât know, I donât knowâ. She was in every way one of lifeâs happy oddities.
A few seasons later, the intervals between our milk bills got longer and longer. Vicki asked for the milk bill, Betty was never without an excuse âIâll do it after the hayâs inâ or âI will do it, I will do it, I must do itâ. âI will, I willâ. After a few months she kept saying âYouâll not run awayâ so my wise girl put the money aside in a Building Society account. Vicki was not going to be caught without having the money, plus she kept a detailed record of all milk bought. From time to time we really pushed for the milk bill which was mounting up in a big way. Summer became winter, spring back to summer, time rolled on, whenever we mentioned payment it was pushed aside. Vicki even told Betty one day that the money mounting up in the Skipton would soon cover the weekly cost out of interest alone, not quite true, but Betty just laughed it off.
One day Betty called all of a fluster, saying âAccountant feller says Iâve got to be paidâ Total it up and give us the bill â it still took another week before it came â 1977 â 1983 £1,053. 06. The next one was 1988 â 1992 £1,319. 43. For a family of four these bills were worth keeping so I framed them together with a photo of Betty, sadly sheâs no longer with us.
Betty and a milk bill
From mole catchers to emptying the septic tank with tractor and spreader, to our farm neighbour, whose most modern equipment was the cattle grid, life was good. We enjoyed hay time â the old fashioned cutting, turning, drying and bailing, not the new great big black plastic giant drums. We are lucky to have memories of the last lingering farming ways, old and slower country style. The largest dairy farmer round us nowadays has masses of cows, they are never seen nor do they see the outside world.
MOTHER IN LAW
I could not and would not say a word against my mother in law, but neither could I ever remember having an inferiority complex before. In some tenuous and abstruse way the two factors are bound together, inseparable and inter-locked for life, so there we are!
I am afraid I failed the mother-in-law test very early on, not really surprising when you realise what a family of achievers her family have turned out to be. Like any mother she was justifiably proud of her sons and daughters. So when she did her grand tours, staying with each and every family in turn, she would naturally recount the achievements and highlights of one home to the next. In my case I think her visit was more to check on whether I was keeping her daughter to the desired standard, and to encourage me to greater efforts.
Malcolm, her eldest son, for example, was now on âthe boardâ, chief over many companies, hundreds of people and was fully in charge of the Southern Hemisphere. A man of unquestioned abilities, had he chosen politics he would by now have been a senior statesman. Youngest son, Chris, was head-hunted and fought over by IBM & Microsoft, his salary it was estimated was in telephone numbers and on expenses trips to Brazil, etc. Even the other sons-in-law, Richard and Bumper, were similarly praised. Superb new executive houses in expensive areas of Oxford and Scotland. They had holidays in exotic
A few seasons later, the intervals between our milk bills got longer and longer. Vicki asked for the milk bill, Betty was never without an excuse âIâll do it after the hayâs inâ or âI will do it, I will do it, I must do itâ. âI will, I willâ. After a few months she kept saying âYouâll not run awayâ so my wise girl put the money aside in a Building Society account. Vicki was not going to be caught without having the money, plus she kept a detailed record of all milk bought. From time to time we really pushed for the milk bill which was mounting up in a big way. Summer became winter, spring back to summer, time rolled on, whenever we mentioned payment it was pushed aside. Vicki even told Betty one day that the money mounting up in the Skipton would soon cover the weekly cost out of interest alone, not quite true, but Betty just laughed it off.
One day Betty called all of a fluster, saying âAccountant feller says Iâve got to be paidâ Total it up and give us the bill â it still took another week before it came â 1977 â 1983 £1,053. 06. The next one was 1988 â 1992 £1,319. 43. For a family of four these bills were worth keeping so I framed them together with a photo of Betty, sadly sheâs no longer with us.
Betty and a milk bill
From mole catchers to emptying the septic tank with tractor and spreader, to our farm neighbour, whose most modern equipment was the cattle grid, life was good. We enjoyed hay time â the old fashioned cutting, turning, drying and bailing, not the new great big black plastic giant drums. We are lucky to have memories of the last lingering farming ways, old and slower country style. The largest dairy farmer round us nowadays has masses of cows, they are never seen nor do they see the outside world.
MOTHER IN LAW
I could not and would not say a word against my mother in law, but neither could I ever remember having an inferiority complex before. In some tenuous and abstruse way the two factors are bound together, inseparable and inter-locked for life, so there we are!
I am afraid I failed the mother-in-law test very early on, not really surprising when you realise what a family of achievers her family have turned out to be. Like any mother she was justifiably proud of her sons and daughters. So when she did her grand tours, staying with each and every family in turn, she would naturally recount the achievements and highlights of one home to the next. In my case I think her visit was more to check on whether I was keeping her daughter to the desired standard, and to encourage me to greater efforts.
Malcolm, her eldest son, for example, was now on âthe boardâ, chief over many companies, hundreds of people and was fully in charge of the Southern Hemisphere. A man of unquestioned abilities, had he chosen politics he would by now have been a senior statesman. Youngest son, Chris, was head-hunted and fought over by IBM & Microsoft, his salary it was estimated was in telephone numbers and on expenses trips to Brazil, etc. Even the other sons-in-law, Richard and Bumper, were similarly praised. Superb new executive houses in expensive areas of Oxford and Scotland. They had holidays in exotic
Similar Books
![The Rogue Hunter's Mate [Paranormal Protection Unit 10] (Siren Publishing Classic)](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/557979/thumbs/152x264/the-rogue-hunters-mate-paranormal-protection-unit-10-siren-publishing-classic.png)
