Starting out

It has been said that getting married and moving house are the two most stressful things one can do in a person's life time.

Margaret and I were married in 1955. Since then, we have lived in 8 different homes!

My first home was on my father's farm in Flintshire, where I worked very hard, unpaid.

My loving father compelled me to leave school (which I had loved) at the age of 13. I worked very hard for Pa until I was 25. Then, after a disgraceful family dispute, my father decided to disown me - I was going out with an English girl, a heinous crime according to Pa, and just the excuse he needed. I could see no future working for him, unpaid, any longer.

In 1955, I married Margaret and other than our clothes and my ex-army Norton motorbike, we had less than £4 to our name. But we managed.

I began work as a head tractor driver on a large farm in Cheshire. We bought just the essential bits of furniture from a Cheshire store, who gave us 6 months free credit. I was working more than 72 hours per week and took home to our cottage - after deductions for rent, milk, eggs, insurance and tax - £10. Margaret was also working part-time at an egg packing station, bringing home another £5, so our combined income was an astronomical £15 a week.

However, in less than 2 years, we had saved £120. I was desperate to have our own farm. With an aunt of Margaret's standing as a guarantor for £500, we applied for and obtained a 11-acre Flintshire County Council farm.

After much hard work, we progressed through a series of larger farms, to a 36-acre, then a 65-acre, finishing up on a 120-acre farm milking about 70 Guernsey cows, plus their followers.

Now we have retired from farming altogether, and for the first time in my life, I am living in a detached house with Margaret and our son, Russ. We are all very happy here.

Parachute jumps

Although I don't care for long haul flights these days, since I was diagnosed with MS I have done 2 tandem charity parachute jumps!

One jump was at 10,000ft and the second was at 16,000ft. I didn't particularly enjoy doing them, but I was keen to do something to help raise funds for our local MS Society branch, where I was secretary.

I was always quite happy to arrange house-to-house, in-store and street collections. But no way would I stand anywhere holding a box and giving away flags - and have the public pity me? No way!

As I was determined to raise some money though, as I knew of many folk with MS far more ill than myself, and I wanted to help.

I happened to be watching a programme on the TV, that featured a lady was suggesting different ways of raising money for charity. I was getting fed up listening to her as I knew I couldn't do sponsored swimming, cycle riding, or any of the physical activities that she was suggesting. Then she mentioned that sponsored parachute jumps were very good money-raisers.

I thought that however disabled one may be, anyone could jump out of an aeroplane!

So I phoned the number that she gave, and the parachute jump idea started from there. The jumps turned out to be very good money-raisers, and seemed more dramatic than having one's head shaved.

But I was rather disappointed, as when you're over 50 they won't let you jump by yourself! Instead, 'they' prefer that you do a 'tandem' parachute jump (strapped to another person).

I did two charity tandem parachute jumps, and raised a lot of money for our local branch. Why not give it a try yourself!

Flying high

Our eldest son lives in Australia. He is a vet, and his lovely wife Jane is a hospital administrator.

The last time my wife and I went out there to visit them was 12 years ago, when we had to endure a 26-hour flight, with a stopover in Singapore. Never again!

There is no more boring form of travel than flying at 38,000ft, as one can't see anything down below!

I remember we flew over Moscow to avoid the Iraqi air space, but for all we knew, we could have been flying over Birmingham!

Whilst we were flying over India, the stewardess told me that the pilot had noticed that a farmer was on board. Turns out he used to have a farm himself (in Australia) and fancied a chat with me!

The stewardess asked me if I could climb up some stairs into their cockpit. I told her that I would be delighted!

When I arrived in their cabin, the pilot and the navigator had their backs to the window. I asked them hadn't they better look where they were going in case another aircraft was coming towards us! "No problem, Cobber! If there is anything within 80 kilometres of us we will be told over the radio!"

As a computer was in charge of actually flying the aircraft, they were very bored, and grateful to compare notes of farming in the UK and Australia.

In fact, all the Australians we met on our trip were everso laid back and easy going.

I haven't been out there since, but my wife has been back a couple of times. The last time she was there the temperature was over 40c, so I was glad that I hadn't also gone with her!

BST

I have now had an electric lift fitted into my new house and am living full-time in our new home.

Our son Russ, an ex-double undisputed World Champion Kickboxer, has the ground floor of the house fitted out as a gym, where he holds classes in self defence. The classes are very popular with ladies in particular. Margaret and I have the first floor of the house, and Russ has the top floor all to himself, with an ensuite bathroom.

We're moving into Autumn now in Wales. I have always preferred the Spring time rather the Autumn for a number of reasons, not least because the days get shorter and the weather gets colder come Autumn.

I have always detested our British policy of turning our clocks back an hour in the winter. Why must we do this?! It's certainly not helpful to farmers as far as I'm concerned.

Cows are creatures of habit, so when we were milking our Guernsey herd, I would turn the darn clock back half an hour, and a week later turn it back the other half hour, so not to upset the cows' routine too much!

Yes, complaining about the weather is a favourite passtime for us in the UK. Though in reality we shouldn't complain, as we are very fortunate that we don't get the violent storms, hurricanes, typhoons, powerful whirlwinds and dreadfully long droughts like they have in Australia for example, where our eldest son lives.

But why can't we have BST (British Summer Time) all the year round?!

Respite home

Glyn is in a respite nursing home at the moment while he waits for his stairlift to be installed in his new home. But does this stop him from writing a blog entry? No way! Glyn writes...

I turned 73 in May, but some days I feel like I'm going on 90.

As they, say one is as old as they feel, but I still maintain that although I have MS and prostate cancer, I'm one of the lucky ones. My MS is the relapsing remitting type, and at the present time, I'm in remission.

But when I do have a relapse I go just like a lump of jelly, and my wife cannot cope with me. So we have a couple of carers in every morning to shower and dress me.

Sometimes my diabetes goes berserk. Recently, instead of its normal 8, it went up over 40, and whilst I was hospitalised, they woke me every 2 hours for blood tests. I had an intravenous drip, instead of my normal 4 tablets a day which normally keeps my diabetes in check.

My diabetes always has to be sorted out, before any remedial therapy for either an MS relapse or cancer therapy can go ahead.

The prostate cancer's prognosis is very good. Instead of going onto Chemo or Radium therapy, I signed a declaration that I was willing to go onto a new therapy. I was very fortunate to be on this new therapy.

There are apparently, only 90 of us in the UK on this therapy.

In the first week, I had to visit the hospital every day. On top of providing meals for my wife and myself, I was given some injections in my tummy and my heart and some blood tests. Then in the second week we went in 3 times a week. Then only twice a week. And now, as the blood tests and heart monitor are satisfactory, I only go in once a month, so I most certainly thank God for that.

Until my electric lift is installed at hom I am at this very pleasant respite nursing home, and feel very fortunate indeed.

Selling up

We recently held a sale of all our 'dead stock' tractors, farm implements. etc. Buyers came from many miles.

Included in the sale was my Susuki quad bike, which I cannot mount or dismount now, even with help.

We sold our Guernsey herd - 70 milker cows, plus their followers - a couple of years ago. The only livestock that remain to be sold are 300 sheep.

Selling the farm and its contents and animals has been very traumatic for me. Purely because of the nostalgia.

In a few weeks time myself, my wife Margaret and my son Russ will move for the first time into a private house without any adjoining land.

Even though we will no longer have a farm to look after, it will be very busy at our new house.

Russ will have the ground floor for his gym, and the first floor will belong to Margaret and I. Russ will live on the top floor.

A lift is being fitted for me to help me get up the stairs. Once work on the lift is completed, we'll be ready to go!

Keeping warm

Being a farmer, spring is my favourite time of the year.

March, April and May herald the coming of summer. All growth becomes alive. Hedges and trees start to bud. And the grass in our fields that our animals need for grazing becomes lush and green.

Here in North East Wales, where we are 900 feet above sea level, our spring arrives a couple of weeks later than it does for the lowland farmers.

One of the great joys of spring is the arrival of snowdrops. But alas, this year there were no snowdrops at all. This is because we were recently forced to replace our herd of 70 Guernsey cows with around 400 sheep and lambs, and the little perishers ate everything, including my beautiful snowdrops!

You might wonder how someone with MS copes on the farm, with so much of the work being outdoors in the cold and wet. But nowadays farm work is so different from how it was in older times.

I began my farming career over 60 years ago. Back then, all physical work was done by hand. Cows were milked by hand at a rate of 16 cows per day.

These days there are machines to perform this task.

Before tractors were invented, all the land work was done (very peacefully, in fact) with horses. Someone ploughing with two horses, could plough about one acre a day. Now it's possible with the larger tractors to plough 30 acres or more per day.

As for keeping warm, I had two great coats. One was an ex-army coat and the other ex-fire brigade! I preferred the ex-fire brigade coat as it had a finer weave cloth so I could move about easily while still keeping warm.

I also wore three sacks about my person, one as a hood on my head, one as a cape over my shoulders, and the third as a skirt! Anything to keep warm!

Thankfully, farming is a lot less physically demanding these days, which means I have been able to keep working on my farm despite having MS!