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Nostalgia, how far back can you remember ?
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<blockquote data-quote="Cab-over Pete" data-source="post: 6882055" data-attributes="member: 416"><p>Yes, two buckets full thrown on top of each load tipped at the clamp. In fact I think it was cider apple something or other, mixed with molasses. It was delivered into big black tanks by a company named Goldstream.</p><p></p><p>I remember my uncle and his hoards of brothers from Coventry doing a lot of manual work on occasions, picking mangolds, pitching bales etc. Great blokes. </p><p></p><p>Visits from the vet. Dad used to let horns get about 5-6 inches long on steers then have the vet remove them with cheese wires and hot irons. I used to swap the irons in the gas flames and hand him the hottest one. One day, the vet sawed a horn off, took a drag on his cigarette, put his lips to the horn cavity and blew, sending streams of smoke out of the bullocks nose!</p><p>The same vet would come castrating bulls, in the crush. First round with the jab, then all back through with the scalpel. The vet held the scalpel between his teeth whilst pulling the balls out and I clearly remember his face dripping with blood like Dracula! Hands covered in blood and blue spray! </p><p></p><p>I still vividly remember being stood in the Dutch barn listening to Dad ploughing on the MF165 in the bottom six acre. I was listening to him whistling a tune, Rod Stewart, Sailing. The field would be 400 yards from the barn but I could hear every note. Blimey, I’m all lumpy throat just remembering.</p><p></p><p>He really was the best Dad anybody could wish for.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cab-over Pete, post: 6882055, member: 416"] Yes, two buckets full thrown on top of each load tipped at the clamp. In fact I think it was cider apple something or other, mixed with molasses. It was delivered into big black tanks by a company named Goldstream. I remember my uncle and his hoards of brothers from Coventry doing a lot of manual work on occasions, picking mangolds, pitching bales etc. Great blokes. Visits from the vet. Dad used to let horns get about 5-6 inches long on steers then have the vet remove them with cheese wires and hot irons. I used to swap the irons in the gas flames and hand him the hottest one. One day, the vet sawed a horn off, took a drag on his cigarette, put his lips to the horn cavity and blew, sending streams of smoke out of the bullocks nose! The same vet would come castrating bulls, in the crush. First round with the jab, then all back through with the scalpel. The vet held the scalpel between his teeth whilst pulling the balls out and I clearly remember his face dripping with blood like Dracula! Hands covered in blood and blue spray! I still vividly remember being stood in the Dutch barn listening to Dad ploughing on the MF165 in the bottom six acre. I was listening to him whistling a tune, Rod Stewart, Sailing. The field would be 400 yards from the barn but I could hear every note. Blimey, I’m all lumpy throat just remembering. He really was the best Dad anybody could wish for. [/QUOTE]
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Nostalgia, how far back can you remember ?
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