Country notebook
As a small girl in the late 1930s and 40s, I lived with my parents and maternal grandparents at Trethurgy. My granfer worked at Bodelva clay works on the mica drags until he retired. Some days I would go with gran when she took him his dinner in his crib hut.
He had six fields where he kept 3 or 4 cows. Mum had to do the early morning and evening hand milking. She strained it into a bucket, put it into bottles which she sealed with cardboard tops and delivered it around the village. I loved sitting on the three legged milking stool in a corner where it was warm and cosy from the heat given off by the cows, but it was a bit smelly!
Some milk was brought home, and either put into a churn which was collected by a lorry from the Lostwithiel milk factory, or scalded, in a large enamel pan, on the stove for cream. Gran patted some of the cream into butter, some pats were in fancy shapes.
We kept hens at the back of the house in a field, also a pig, and a few turkeys and some geese for Christmas. Mr Trevains killed the pig for granfer. I never saw this happening, but I remember the squealing. Bacon was salted down in a keive (barrel or tub) and there was delicious pork, hogs pudding, tripe, brawn and pig leg pie. All the fat was cut up, melted down in the oven and used for cooking.
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Just think how amazed my granfer (Dick) Richard Julian would be if he knew that the hut, where he ate his pasty, is under a place known all over the world as The Eden Project.
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