It was 1944 and I had been advised by the Doctor to get a job in the open air. Where better than the Land Army? I was living in Loughborough and was very lucky to get a place on a farm at Long Whatton, which was ideal as I was married and needed to get home every evening. It was just a "short" cycle ride to Long Whatton and as my husband worked at Slack and Parr in Kegworth we cycled to Hathern together and then went our separate ways. We thought nothing of it in those days and wouldn't have dreamt of catching a bus.

I was very nervous to start with, not having worked on a farm before, but I was made to feel very welcome and soon felt one of the family. There was the farmer, his wife and a labourer besides myself. There was such a lot to learn. They had a herd of around 20 milking cows and to me, being a townie, they seemed huge. I never thought I would be able to handle them, especially as two of them didn't like the milking machine and were known as kickers. I soon learnt the trick of strapping their back legs together and avoiding the bruises!

I soon fell into the routine of the farm and started to really enjoy life there. One day the farmer and his wife went into town and left me with the responsibility of clearing willow weed from a field of sugar beet. On his return he came over to the field to see how I was getting on. Fortunately they hadn't been gone long otherwise he would have had the best field of willow weed in the county - I had weeded out all the sugar beet and left the willow weed! I was sure I would get the sack, but he forgave me although I never lived it down and was often reminded of it.

In the war farmers were allowed to kill a pig for their own use and I was lucky enough to get half of their pig. I have always loved cooking and, with my husband, spent the next few days making pork pies, sausage, faggots and the crowning glory - we had a side of bacon hanging in the spare room. Those were the days - really tasty meat - what would be called organic free range now I suppose and worth it's weight in gold.

Of course, we had "double" summer time during the war to enable farmers to get the crops in. It really was all hands on deck then and my husband used to finish his day's work at Slack and Parr and cycle to the farm to help out with the harvest for 4 or 5 hours. The farmer's wife would have a meal ready for us at the end of our work and I can assure you no food ever tasted better! We then cycled home and fell into bed ready to start all over again the next day.

As I have already hinted, I wasn't used to large animals and that certainly included horses. When it was time for ploughing we used to borrow a Shire horse from a farmer in the village. The horses name was Britain and he was huge! He seemed 10 feet tall and weighing 10 tons to me. To say I was scared was an understatement. Taking my courage and his reins in both hands I walked back to the farm with him and hitched him up to the plough. It was my job to lead him while the farmer guided the plough. We got to the end of the field and I hadn't realised how much room he needed to turn around and ended up getting firmly wedged in the hedge. The farmer thought it was a great laugh but I soon got my own back.

Not long after we were repairing an electric fence which ran the length of a field with the farmer at the far end and me in charge of the switch. He told me to switch it on when he raised his hand. Unfortunately there were a lot of flies around and he was swatting the flies away which I mistook for him wanting the fence switched on. His dance was a sight to behold as was his language! Of course I saw the funny side of it which made him worse and the crosser he got the more I laughed.

Looking back I now realise the work was very hard and the hours long but it was so rewarding. It was such a wonderful experience and I made some good friends over the three years I worked there. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Submitted to this site by Pearl Fowler. A life long friend of Maisie (M.M.Walker)