HERE AND THERE

As I travelled to Windsor five days a week I had only the evenings and Saturday and Sunday left to do other things and Sundays we all went to Church.  I still did my chores like bringing in the ice, and wood for the kitchen stove and filling the car up with gas.  I was now allowed to drive it to the pump, fill it up and return it, ready for Uncle George to zip off to the mill or camp.

I tried my rifle.  Aimed and hit a partridge but it flew away.  I was sure I had hit it!  About a week later Uncle George asked me how I was faring with the rifle and had I shot at birds (he knew something) because he said, “I hope that you have not been shooting at birds!”  I replied in the negative.  He then asked,  “What about partridges?”  “Oh, partridge, but they are not birds (thinking of sparrows).”   He was getting a bit cross now and he said that he had noticed a partridge with a crippled leg around the vicinity of the house.  “Going for a game bird is one thing, but crippling is just not fair. You should have confined your activity to shooting at targets or tin cans.  In any case a bee bee gun is not strong enough for game.”  To teach me a lesson he took my rifle away for one month.   I felt a bit of a cad for my action and suitably chastised.  He didn’t hold a grudge and as I have mentioned before, he was strict but fair.  He treated me just as well one month later when he returned my rifle, but I had lost interest in it. 

Had a letter from Dad (Mam didn’t write very well).  Another surprise. They had been visited by a Canadian soldier who had spoken to us whilst playing in the recreation garden as we were kept at the Children’s School for the Blind in Halifax just after we had landed.  We had given him our address and he said he would call and see    

them if the opportunity arose.  He told them that he had seen us and we were well.  He stayed for tea and Mam brought her best Sunday china out for him.

He responded by giving Dad some Canadian cigarettes and gave Mam a box of chocolates. 

On Saturday evenings, more often than not, a skating party was held on Penz’s Lake at the spot where the launch of the raft took place earlier.  I would guess that there would be over 30 people of all ages present.  A fire would be lit on the ice (really), to my astonishment, fuelled by car and truck tyres and amazingly never burned through the ice.  Later, potatoes were roasted along with marshmallows and small pieces of steak.  We had a competition to see who could stay up the longest riding a bike on the ice.  All I won was a few bruises.  Two or three skaters would link up together.  Particularly, I fyou knew a young lady or young man it was your chance to innocently hold a girl’s hand and skate together.    A great game was the Whip.  Three or four would join hands and skate in a line gathering other skaters on the way forward until four would turn into 15 or 20 or more.  The lead was taken by a strong skater who would shout “crack the whip” and suddenly swing to the right or left and pull.  The straight line would develop into a curve and the further down the line you were, the faster you went.  Being at the end gave the greatest thrill as you swung at a terrific speed (I have tried it) and it is most exhilarating but can be a little risky if you let go as you could end up on the shore before you know it. 

I’m sure that the young people still do this sort of thing, like a giant hay sleigh ride in the snow, for example.  Harking back to January – went across to Glen’s store and went in as usual.  He had given me a little job of sweeping around each day except Sunday.  He paid me 15 cents for this.  Anyway, this particular morning there was quite a lot of snow on the ground which had started the previous evening and continued throughout the night.  As I opened the door there was a young woman on the floor.  I wondered why she was laying there.  I was taken aback, even more so when Glen came out of his quarters.  He explained that the lady had arrived from Halifax on the Greyhound the previous day and was running late due to the bad weather and that she had started to walk to the Gold Mines area where she lived and was expected but never arrived and they started to look for her.  A team was hitched up and coupled to a truck and they eventually found her in a snow drift, frozen.  They were nearer the store than her home so the rescuers took her to the store where she had lain all night.  Later she was moved into the warehouse attached to the store.  I left the sweeping for that day.  Later she was moved again, to where I do not know.  I had enough of the store for the time being.  I never heard any more about the incident.  That year, Dice Hill was blocked by snow and trucks and cars had much difficulty in getting over the hill and when it thawed a little it was worse than ever as the vehicles kept sliding, even with chains on. 

Putting the yellow flag out on the corner of the store outside was another little job that I had taken on.   This was to indicate to the Greyhound bus driver of a passenger to be picked up to convey towards Windsor or Halifax.  When the bus had gone I would put the flag back in its designated place.  It was important to have a flag out before the bus time so it was essential that I learn what his scheduled arrival time was.