The cockerel stood on its perch and broke the silence; Thomas Hogg instinctively threw his legs out of bed, he had done so for the last fifty years on “Wildacre” farm.
Thomas went to the newly built inside toilet. It had taken him a while to remember that the toilet and bathroom were now part of Wildacre cottage not a building out in the yard. Thomas was a man of routine and didn’t really like change. He still shaved with a cutthroat razor and refused to use the new razors that they now sold in the shops. His son Brian however used an electric razor.
His father had shown him how to wet shave but Brian was one for modern technology. He wanted to move with the times. Thomas filled the kettle and turned it on by the switch on the wall.
His sat in the chair by the table thinking about his late wife Miriam; she had been a good wife and mother to them both. Thomas came in from harvesting the potato crop two years ago to find her lying on the floor of the kitchen. She had suffered a massive heart attack and lay unmoving on the floor as Thomas tried to revive her. He lay on the floor with Miriam in his arms crying and rocking her dead body in his arms when all his efforts failed. Thomas Hogg was only sixty years old, now he was destined to spend the rest of his life alone. They had been through so much together over the years; they had survived the Second World War; which had been a traumatic five years. He took down the tea caddy from the shelf and took out two teabags and placed them into the pot. He glanced at the clock which told him it was four thirty in the morning.
He heard his son stirring in his room as he took down the mugs from the kitchen cupboard and spooned in two sugars in each then took out the milk from the fridge. This was something else Thomas found hard to come to terms with since he handed the farm over to his son who bought the fridge and other electrical gadgets to make life easier he said.
Even the old paraffin stove had gone and he’d replaced it with an aga that used wood to heat up the water and cook the food. There was even an electric toaster in the house. Thomas stood up once the kettle had boiled and filled up the pot then placed the woollen tea cosy that his wife had made over it once he’d put the lid on.
Thomas felt tired his bones ached with arthritis that now riddled his body and he was never one for taking tablets of any kind but when the pain had been too much for him to bare he relented. The doctors had told him that his condition was degenerative and that his condition would only get worse. Thomas refused to lie down and just vegetate, he still liked to milk the cows and feed the animals whilst Brian got to work
running the farm.