I was the youngest of eight children, so I remember my childhood house on the dairy farm in Fullerton Cove being very busy and happy. We always had to get up about 4am to milk the sixty or so cows by hand and then again in the afternoon about 4pm, whoever was around had to help with the milking. We also had chickens and about 200 ducks for our own consumption. I became very good at killing and cleaning them every weekend for Mum or the girls to roast.
I remember when I was about 12 or so all our ducks were stolen, Dad reported it to the police, but nothing came of it. We also had a big vegetable garden, so we were never short of food. Meal times were always busy and we sat at a long dining table together. Everyone got on well. Family discussions were mainly about what was happening on the farm and what needed to be done, and sometimes about local politics. We used to sit around and listen to the radio for entertainment. Dad didn’t have to go to war because he was a farmer, but my brothers did.