Currently I am writing my first novel, I have no idea if this is good or bad, only that it is something i need to say and want to say in words, more importantly i want to share it. Jake is a youngster being raised on a hillside in 1940's Shropshire. This is a small snippet of his story. Feedback would be a big help here, if you have the time. Thanks.
.......Jake had very few toys of any
sort, being a country lad born and bred he made his own entertainment within
reason, chasing the ducks and hens around the farmyard was indeed a great
pastime for a 3 year old, on the other hand he gave the 20 or so geese that
were kept for Christmas a little more respect.
Jake always looked up to his father greatly, he always emulated him as
the big man walked across the beloved hills that they had made their own,
striding with a stick that had a ‘v’ on the top of it to rest his thumb on,
Jake would have his own small stick that he used and pretended to dig into the
ground to help him on his way just like his father was doing. They would walk
for miles together fetching sheep and cattle from across the hills or simply
heading to the ‘local’ butchers and grocers, even though that was still a good
3 mile walk across country.
The surrounding hills were as harsh in winter
as they were breathtakingly beautiful in summer. The views from Clee Top were
the best in Shropshire , the fields and
trees stretched for miles in front of them, homestead farms surrounded by small
cottages that had small white wisps of smoke that seemed to hardly move from
their chimneys, the only sign of visible life far into the distance. The summer
brought a cascade of colour that showed the County in its most favoured light,
Jake used to sit and listen for a few minutes at the noisy hum of so many
insects going about their daily toil, a sure sign that summer was in full flow,
the air smelt heavy with every fragrance that the thriving plant life could
throw out into the air as it competed for the battling bees and other
insect-like pollen catchers that danced amongst them.
These were Salad Days for Jake
though he scarcely knew it. He lived amongst all this and thrived, Jake was
home, at one with what nature had to tell him and slowly as his life mapped out
and he grew older this would come more to the fore. But for now, Jake was happy
just being Jake.
At the age of four Jake was sent
to school. In those days mother didn’t bundle you into a warm car and go and
meet the teachers for a quick chat to help you settle in, Mum just waved from the front door and you
walked, in Jakes case 2 miles to school, even on your very first day. A few
older lads from neighbouring farms took Jake under their wings and showed him
the ropes, something that was normal in the early 1930’s, elder children had
responsibility that extended to the youngsters that were among them and Jake
being Jake he soon made lots of new friends, however that didn’t detract from
the fact that at 4 years of age Jake had to tackle his first day at school on
his own an almost unimaginable scenario in today’s cushioned world.
A few months into school and Jake found himself sat next to
one of the teachers daughters, a Miss Annabelle Spencer, who was just a little
spoilt. Jake had never really seen eye to eye with this little starlet, but
like his Dad before him, Jake said little and watched plenty. One particular
morning the venerable Miss Spencer had an accident that resulted in a wet
floor, something Jake found highly amusing, right up to the point where the
little diva pointed Jake out as the culprit. Jake took the punishment of
smacked legs, despite his innocence and lack of obvious physical evidence as to
the deed and opted instead to tell his mum at teatime what had happened. His
Mum Janet merely replied “I shouldn’t worry son, you won’t be there for very
long anyway, its harvest time soon”.
Indeed those words were the catalyst that saw Jake miss out on plenty of
schooling days, it became the norm for
Jake not to be in school and if he did he was almost always sent home for one
reason or another, in fact late one June day he was sent home as it ‘looked
like snow’ a reason that was common in winter but not so much nearing
mid-summer!.
Jake was fast becoming a man of the land, his boyish good
looks and blonde hair with soft blue eyes stood him out against his friends who
teased his good looks more out of jealousy than an affliction that Jake had to
bear. Jake was a fast runner too, very fast. He won many races at sports day in
the local village and excelled at the distance running. In reality running was
something Jake did every day of his life, fetching animals in and working the
two sheepdogs the family farm kept. Jakes horsemanship was also excellent with
his fearless ability and skill at reading animals thoughts and wishes, he
treated them all with a respect that they seemed to acknowledge, Jake could
make the sheepdogs work better than anyone on the farm, he seemed to be able to
talk to them and they responded with great loyalty to their master who cared
for them deeply, a fact the animals seemed to know. Days turned into weeks and
weeks turned into months, then at the ripe old age of 13 Jake was out of school
for keeps. Jake was overjoyed to be out of School, but it was also a sad day as
Jake knew that now he was expected to work on the family farm for good and
seeing his many friends would become harder and harder to do as he picked up
the mantle of farm worker from his dad.
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