A long section today before I start work. However, before I start work I have to go and feed horses that are about 2 miles away. Most of family away for the weekend so we are on duty.
Dad's parents had always lived down Attercliffe, but Edith, health wise was not a strong person and George always felt that if they could move to the country then it would help her. They had the opportunity to move to Crabtree Farm at Fir Vale, which at the turn of the century was indeed 'in the country'. It has since been swallowed up by Sheffield and is now almost city centre. They moved in with their two children Albert and Nelly, aged 4 and 3. A pig quickly followed along with hens. There were apple trees in the garden, everything George had wanted for Edith. Edith was less enthusiastic, missing friends back in Attercliffe and finding the accommodation 'modest.’ By modest, read, basic. All four were obliged to sleep in the same room'. This being the attic with only the slates between them and the elements. There was no electricity and water was drawn from a well out in the yard. Other problems had to be overcome as well. George was offered a job at long last, which necessitated being up at five o'clock each morning. This is relatively easy when you have an alarm clock, but George and Edith didn't possess one and had no money to buy one. It was their friend George who came to their rescue and lent them one of his prized possessions, an alarm clock, which he came by after collecting tokens from packets of Lipton's Tea. Having duly set the alarm and retired to bed, all was well until George was woken by a loud crashing noise and felt raindrops on his face. Fearing that the roof had gone in a storm that had sprung up he awoke Edith, asking her to "Go and look at the babbies". She managed to find a candle and matches and moved to where they were. Both were fast asleep. George was still fumbling in the dark, he could find neither matches nor candle. "What time is it?" asked Edith. "Don't know", came the reply. "Clock's gone." Edith approached warily to look for herself. The crashing noise, the storm, the rain on George's face were explained by the missing alarm clock. It was now ten past five. The clock had done its job, but in doing so had fallen off the shelf where it had been precariously placed, taking the matches and candle with it, the whole falling in the potty. The raindrops were not water! It was not long after that Edith persuaded George that 'country life' wasn't all it was made out to be and they moved back to Attercliffe. George didn't need asking twice. He worshipped the ground Edith walked on, for him she could do no wrong. She even in a moment of mischief cut off half of his magnificent handlebar moustache during the night. But his only remark was that perhaps he ought to cut off the other half. I think from this story we can better appreciate from whom Ernest inherited his mischief-making. George had not always been so mild-mannered. His upbringing as a child had been hard, his father being a heavy drinker. Coming home from work via the pub having spent most or all the money. Beating his wife was a regular affair. But for George this happened once too often and in order to put a stop to the beating he planted a pickaxe in his father's back. He immediately ran away, down to the canal and jumped aboard the first barge that came along. He managed to tell the bargeman what had happened, and he stayed with him on the trip down to Goole and back. Sufficient time for his father to have recovered, thanks to treatment by Mrs. Darwin, the 'smoke inspector`. Neighbours all agreed that the injuries were no more than he deserved. On his return from Goole nothing more was said. George having run away from home after the attack on his father, repeated the episode not long after, the running away, not the pickaxe this time. It was only a short distance from their house to Bacon Lane bridge, now long since gone, but nevertheless a little too far in bare feet. Shoes were a luxury not to be squandered on children. Not to be deterred, he 'borrowed' his mother's elastic sided boots, quite fashionable for Attercliffe and set off. Unfortunately, his timing when it came to jumping off the bridge was not as good as his previous attempt, and he ended up in the water. He was quickly fished out by the bargee and left to dry out in the sunshine. George wasn't the only thing to dry out. So did the boots. There was nothing else for it but to cut them off. The running away got him a clipped ear, the boots, a good hiding.
My dad graduated from ICU today! Severe Pneumonia 
Bronchiectasis update
Oxygen and100 yard challenge
