|
There were chickens and geese that provided eggs and food for the pot.
We had a cat that we brought with us to Winteringham when we moved there. I can't
remember its name but remember him coming home one day with one of his legs hanging by a small piece of skin. After a visit to the vet Dad used to dust the wound with the dressing that had been prescribed and when
what was left of the leg had healed the cat seemed to be as fast if not faster with three legs as it had been with four.
Through the years between me and my brothers we owned rabbits, guinea pigs,
goldfish and maybe others pets that I have forgotten about.
At one point I owned some racing pigeons. That was a laugh as the following will show. I followed the instructions given to me by a friend
who also kept them. Basically this was to keep them fed and watered, and to keep them in the loft for a length of time and they would get to know their home. When the time came to let them out they flew around and
came back to the loft. I carried on like this until I was told that I should pick what I had been told was the best of the bunch and try flying it. With the bird I went down to the bridge at the bottom of Low
Burgage to let it fly home.
After watching the bird circling overhead to get its bearings I went home to be there when it arrived back but half an hour later there was no sign of the bird flying around or in
the loft. When I went back to the front gate to see if I could find out what had happened to my bird I was surprised to see it walking up the middle of the road as if it had not got a care in the world. The
rest of my family were just as surprised as I was. When I opened the gate, the pigeon walked through and down to the loft before flying into it.
A few weeks later I took the same bird to the top of the
road hill at South Ferriby overlooking the River Humber. The day was bright and sunny and in the distance I could just make out the village of Winteringham. Thinking that it would not take long for my
bird to reach home as it would have been roughly in line of sight from where we were, I let the pigeon go, watching it fly round overhead a number of times it looked like it was heading towards home so that's what I
did.
On my arrival I expected the bird to have got there before me but I was home first. After some time I went and checked the loft to see if it was home. The day went by and there was no sign of the
pigeon. It was a week later when we saw it fly into the yard and even then as if to have the last word the crafty thing walked down the garden path to the loft.
There was one thing that was clear to me
the only way this pigeon was to win any races was to enter it into a marathon!
The Boat
At one time we had a small rowing boat in our yard that Dad said the owner could
leave there until required. Jan, who owned the boat had sailed down the River Humber from either the Trent or the Ouse and moored his yacht in the haven and was returning home via car. This would have meant that he
would have to tow the boat to and from Winteringham.
We were given permission by Jan to use the rowing boat when he was not at Winteringham. We asked our neighbours if we could cross their property and
put it into the drain that ran on their northern boundary from west to east and then turned north flowing parallel with the lower part of Low Burgage towards the Haven. To do this we carried the boat along the
inside of the fence that marked their eastern boundary this put us well away from the bungalow (the old station buildings) so that we did not annoy them.
One of these jaunts saw Dad with us.
First we rowed towards the bridge at Marsh Lane past what we knew as Little Woods between the drain and the old trackbed that started from just out side the station boundary and ran to just short of Marsh Lane. At the bridge there we turned round and headed back the way we had just come. As we passed through what would have been the walls that carried the bridge over the drain taking the track to the haven and onto the end of the line in the village of Whitton, Mr Button one of the local farmers who's fields came up to the drain, came over the top of the bank to see what was going on. After chatting to Dad for some time he disappeared back over the top into his field, Dad told us that Mr Button had thought that we were a bunch of kids just messing about in the drain and was about to move us on but was satisfied with what he was told and we were back on our way towards the Haven before returning home.
Another one of our days on the drain found us up near the orchards belonging to the houses on Marsh Lane. The drain had just the right level of water in it to let us slip the boat under the overhanging
branches of the apple trees from which we took some of the fruit into the boat with no one setting foot in the orchards, then headed home with our spoils. I don't know of anyone else going scrumping apples in this
way!
During the time that we had the boat at our disposal we had numerous adventures in the drain and Haven but as you know all good things come to an end sometime and our’s was when Jan sailed from
Winteringham for the last time.
There are two occasions that I recall when we were given permission by our parents to sail with Jan on the River Humber. One was a trip up the Humber into the Ouse and
back again. As we became level with the village of Whitton the bottom of the yacht bumped on the bottom of the river and at one point we came to a stop. Jan said that we were losing the tide as it was on
its way out, but we got going again, only to stop again after covering a short distance. There was still more depth of water than the boat needed to float so we taller lads climbed over the side to see if we
could get any further by rocking and pushing, as the water was about chest high and us not on board would make the boat lighter. The tide was faster than we were and the water just disappeared from around us leaving
us standing on the sandy bottom around the yacht. As we sat there we could see that we were on a large sand bar that was quite near to the river bank at one end and stretched out towards the deeper channel on
the other sides. The sun looked to have dried out most of the sand bar but we were told to stay with the boat for our safety. Then after two to three hours a noise could be heard that was similar to an express train
travelling at speed and as we sat and watched a lip formed on the eastern edges of the sand bar.
This seemed to get larger and higher, then the sound changed and water was running around us and getting deeper. Within minutes we were afloat again and heading for home. When telling about our time sat just off Whitton we were told that we were lucky as the river was known around there for having quicksands and as I have read later reports that people have lost their lives there.
Next week: Wash and Brush-up ... with a hose!
|
