The Hikurangi telephone exchange operated from 3.00am to 10.00pm. Only once during those first few weeks was I able to ring Jimmy Orr before he went home after night shift — and this before we had sat down to dinner.
I could never be sure where we were going to eat: sometimes in the cottage, other times in the old house, where I would eat in my bedroom, sitting on the bed. At least on those evenings I didn’t have to dress for dinner. It was on one of those occasions that I rang Jim.
Breakfast during those weeks was often eaten in the cow-shed. Sometimes breakfast and lunch were eaten together. The cottage was only a few yards from the separator room, so Miss S was able to tear back and forth to prepare meals.
I had soon noticed that the Smiths owned three horses. These had a tremendous attraction for me and were probably the main reason for my staying.
There was Moke — I will call him that, for that is what he was and I can’t remember his name. He was a lazy sod, and to get him from a walk into a trot or canter I had to flog him just as hard as I could with a stick. Then he would flick his tail and break into a half-hearted trot — and immediately drop back to a walk unless the stick was continually applied with the full strength of my right arm. Then there was Mary, who was very willing and, as I was soon to discover, would run her heart out if you were to, by any chance, hit her.
And then there was Creamy.
Creamy was the one who captured my imagination. I would still say that Creamy was the most beautiful pony I have ever seen. To ride him became my life’s ambition.
As his name indicates, he had a beautiful creamy coat, and a long red mane and tail. He was high-spirited and a beautiful mover — very fast and the most sure-footed horse I have ever ridden. If he hadn’t been sure-footed I’m sure I wouldn’t have survived to write this. He had, unfortunately, been badly broken in and he had a mouth of iron. Only an expert horseman would have been capable of handling him and I was far from that.
The Prof had given him to Miss S. for a birthday present, and she had as much hope of riding him as she had riding to the moon. Creamy just showed his paces in his paddock and no-one ever rode him, for no-one could, not at the Smith’s. But Miss S. promised that I could ride him if I cared for him and groomed him, and from then on my life was full of promise.
No-one could catch Creamy so I didn’t have to take the trouble to groom him, even if there had been time. Dave Langridge was of the opinion that I couldn’t handle him, and he was right, but I swore that I was going to and eventually did, but it was going to be a long time before that happened. Meantime, I practised on Moke and Mary.
I had had a little experience riding Billy, years earlier. Billy was a horse Dad bought in a fit of enthusiasm when I was about seven years old. We grazed him on the end of a rope, mainly on the roadside. Billy was much like Moke, in that you had to hit him to make him go, and my only memory of him was my first solo ride. Dad set us off along Boundary Road and we proceeded quite happily until I wanted to head for home. I couldn’t turn Billy round. We ambled on and on until we met someone who could turn him round for me.
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Gradually the stress of the cowshed eased off as the calves learnt to drink and were gradually weaned, and the cows settled down, as much as that was possible under the Smith’s management. Their various ailments were cured or eased and the teat cups were hung up less frequently.
We got in for breakfast by about 10.00am and on occasions I even got to ring Jimmy Orr after dinner at night.
Dave was employed with horse and scoop to rid the outer yard of dung and sweep it down into the gully, and shortly afterwards the remaining dung dried up for the summer.
At one stage I became ill, I suppose with exhaustion. As she did on other similar occasions, Miss S. treated me with raw eggs whipped up with milk and sugar and put me to bed. I had brought out all her mother instincts and she fussed over me like a mare with her foal!
The Smiths owned an electrical apparatus about the size of a small suitcase, powered by batteries and furnished with many knobs and a meter, I suppose to measure current flows. Two wires ran from it with electrodes on their ends. A very impressive piece of equipment. Miss S. set this up at my bedside and proceeded to massage my temples with the electrodes. It produced a faint, but fairly pleasant sensation and I soon went off to sleep. Miss S. must have been pleased. I was.
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I am getting ahead of myself: It was July, Summer was a long way off and there was much suffering before the hot, dry, mud-less days arrived. In my damp, inadequate clothing I was often wet and cold in the miserable weather. There were no fires to warm us up at the end of the day and no way to dry clothes, and I would reluctantly don wet clothes, socks and boots for the morning milking, all smelly and filthy.
Dave Langridge was a reluctant assistant because he had his own farm work to do and the only reason he came was to earn a few extra shillings at great inconvenience. The Smiths were constantly on the lookout for another labourer, but their reputation had gone before them and there were few takers. Farm labouring jobs were never popular in any case, particularly amongst town dwellers, and the great depression was only just beginning to bite.
One day Bill Scotty arrived to take up what was probably his first and last farm job. It was a particularly wet and miserable day and Scotty, a boy of about my age, soon decided this job was not for him. He left by the next day’s cream lorry.
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My only communication with home had been through Jimmy Orr and this was not a very satisfactory way of reassuring Dad and Mum. When I rang him it was just as he was about to knock off work and I could not say much in front of the Smiths.
The phone was in the old house and the only time we were there was to sleep. Some weeks passed before Mum decided to take the initiative and ring the Smiths to enquire about my welfare. Miss S. happened to be in the house, fortunately, and it was arranged for me to go with them on their next shopping trip.
So it was that, again, Mum entertained the Smiths and Mrs Langridge to lunch.
The Smiths apparently realised that in me they had at last struck gold. They were loud and enthusiastic in their praise of my efforts, all of which boosted my ego tremendously. Who would complain of the conditions when one’s efforts were so appreciated, especially when one was only twelve and this was one’s first job!
In any case there was no opportunity for private conversation and so everyone was happy.