Alan Lord, of Staveley, recalls childhood memories from the 1930s

Born and brought up in north Lancashire, much of my spare time was spent on the farm which my uncles and grandparents worked a few miles away.

It was the focal point for all the grandchildren and there were quite a few of us.

It wasn't all play, of course. In busy times we were expected to pull our weight and soon learned the farming routine.

As soon as we were tall enough to reach the pedals, uncle Roy taught all the grandchildren to drive and he was an excellent instructor. This was a useful skill on the farm and we were an extra pair of hands to drive the tractor.

It wasn't really a tractor, there weren't many about at that time, but it served us well. It was the chassis and cab of a large Crossley saloon car. Another uncle had found a second compatible gear box which, with the assistance of the local blacksmith, was fitted in series with the original, converting it into a nine speed box. With a large stone gatepost lashed to its rear end to give it extra traction, it would pull anything.

The driving skill could be useful in other ways. On one occasion Roy had to be away all the following day. Just why I never knew, but it may well have been to do with his wartime duties as a Special Constable. This caused a major problem because there would be no one to deliver the milk. Everyone had their their own jobs to do and there seemed to be no way they could fit in anything extra.

We stood in the yard and they talked round the problem without coming to any conclusion until Roy turned to me and said “Do you think you could do it on your own?” Full of the confidence of youth I said: “Yes I'll do it”.

So the following morning I was up before six, loaded the van full of milk crates and set off on a seven-mile milk round. Eleven years old and no driving licence. Well somebody had to do it.