Page 21 - IT'S A RUM LIFE BOOK FOUR Volume 1 "Northcote 1984 to 1998"

Before we actually got there, I must explain that the “friction” we were working hard on
“melting” was working against us.
Spilsby has never been recognised as a town with much enthusiasm for life.
In fact over the years we have been living close by, we have witnessed so many wonderful
chances slip through their fingers for simple lack of enthusiasm.

One might even describe the town as apathetic.

“We have never seen the reason to have an outing before,” some were heard to declare.
“Oh, you will never fill a bus with children from Spilsby,” others stated.

This made Ruth even more determined.

She had recently started a new job as District Nurse in the area and her years of
experience in the nursing profession being brought up originally as a cadet and then as a
“working” student in the “old school”, she could get the bit between her teeth, then watch
out!

ON OUR WAY
The bus was filled, mind you, the very last seat could not remain empty so was filled by
Ruth’s mother in law who brought her own version of starvation supplies in the form of
mountains of carrier bags filled with cup cakes, jam rolls and countless other teeth rotting
goodies.

Parents were an essential on these outings as once at our destination it was divide and
conquer. Each adult or pair of adults was allocated four or five children to “guard” and
generally look out for during the day. They could then do just what they wished, only
needing to arrive at the prescribed seating area at the proper time and be sure to get on
the correct bus home before it left!

The journey I remember was comparatively smooth. In typical boy fashion, feed sacks
were broached before many miles had been travelled and the destination time requests
began after only having proceeded for half an hour of our journey.

To break from our tale for just a paragraph or two.
It so happened that I was farming rabbits at this time and being one of a rare and unusual
group of country folk in the UK this attracted students from France where Commercial
Rabbit farming was big business in the 1970/80’s.

The very night before our departure for London on the annual outing, my latest student
had arrived. A lanky, shy chap of about 17, his tutor at the agricultural college in Lyon was
actually an English lady married to a French man. She had been to visit us earlier in the
year to arrange this particular visit.
I must digress even further to explain that during the years that daughter Helen was
growing, we had several students from France staying with us from time to time.
Back to our agricultural student, he had arrived by train from his home just south of Lyon