He heard Brian in the bathroom; he poured out his tea then placed two slices of toast in the toaster then pushed down on the lever until it clicked. The setting was on number three so there was no need to watch it Brian had told him.
“Tea is out son Thomas shouted as he went to the fridge and took out the butter that he still churned himself. Brian had told him that he would buy it from the super market but his father was adamant that he would make their own which tasted better than shop bought rubbish. Brian had been hooked on farming since he was about three years old when he’d climb up onto the tractor and pretend to drive it. Even his toys consisted of tractors and farm animals. It was inevitable that Brian was destined to become a farmer like his father and grandfather.
He was milking the cows by the time he was ten and could drive the tractors and run most of the machinery by the time he was fifteen. The one advantage Brian had over his father was that Brian had went to agricultural college then onto University to learn all there was about modern farming; crop rotation and the use of fertilisers to produce bigger yields. Now twenty five Brian was well equipped to run any farm.
Wildacre Farm was one hundred and thirty one acres. He had over two hundred dairy cattle and forty beef cattle. He kept pigs, poultry and was thinking of buying some sheep next year. His father was persuaded to sell his prized Shire horses which he called Mick and Dick because they were no longer needed now that he had bought a modern plough and combined harvester.
Other machines that had been run on gas before the war were now out dated and sold off.
Brian came out of the bathroom where he put on his waterproof coat he took three gulps of tea and then took the toast that his father had buttered for him.
“I’ve got four fields to plough today dad so I’m going to be a while.”
“Do you want me to bring you some lunch then son?
“No you’re alright dad; I will take an apple and a banana with me. See you later.”
Brian opened the wooden door then went out into the farm yard; he slipped off his training shoes then placed them into the tractor then put on his green wellington boots. Then he hooked up the plough then started the engine.
The dawn was now just breaking as he opened the gate then drove out then pulled up to lock the gate again before driving off along the road which would lead him to the fields where he was to plough.
Across the road was Jackson’s farm; they had been in financial ruin last year and ended up borrowing from the bank to keep the farm going.