Thread: Public land deer - 53 years ago.

Originally Posted by Trout

Many yrs ago i started carting hay in my school holidays,13yrs old then,my first summer holidays was payed in pounds.Use to get up to 28pds for the long week,days were 6am till 10pm if the weather was good.Had about 150 pds in the bank by the time school holidays finished.Did 8 summer holidays carting hay,last four yrs of that was when i was doing my carpentry apprenticeship.Had enough money to put a deposit on the section im living on today.Those hay carting days were good,keeped you fit and strong and xtra money in the bank.A4 bedford truck could take 125 bales,with about 20 trucks just carting hay,gangs of 3.There use to be some big hay stacks built out the back of Temuka on the Moores and McCully farms.Temuka transport still ticking over today.

That's amazingly good money, and bloody long hours - I never did anything like that. I worked my holidays at the Silverstream Hospital looking after 'old gentlemen' who'd been parked there. Started there when I was fourteen and worked all my holidays there until I started full time work at 17. That was in a laboratory and the pay for a forty hour week was 7 quid ($14).
Got no idea what I earned at Silverstream, but I was happy - it gave me pocket money and was a job I enjoyed

That hospital had been built by the American's for their servicemen who were training here during the war - it was a pretty big place.

Originally Posted by SF90

That's amazingly good money, and bloody long hours - I never did anything like that. I worked my holidays at the Silverstream Hospital looking after 'old gentlemen' who'd been parked there. Started there when I was fourteen and worked all my holidays there until I started full time work at 17. That was in a laboratory and the pay for a forty hour week was 7 quid ($14).
Got no idea what I earned at Silverstream, but I was happy - it gave me pocket money and was a job I enjoyed

That hospital had been built by the American's for their servicemen who were training here during the war - it was a pretty big place.

My uncle was in Silverstream, he served overseas in WW11 and as a driver, his truck was struck and the fire melted his foot, boot and all, he was dragged from the truck ok, but had severe foot damage.
Later in life he had his legs amputated. He died in Silverstream from memory.

Originally Posted by Maca49

My uncle was in Silverstream, he served overseas in WW11 and as a driver, his truck was struck and the fire melted his foot, boot and all, he was dragged from the truck ok, but had severe foot damage.
Later in life he had his legs amputated. He died in Silverstream from memory.

I looked after a lot of those dudes - some so old their tattoos had faded and melted and couldn't be see for what they were any more. Many were war vets and they were there because they couldn't look after themselves any more .......... and 'home' couldn't deal with them anymore - or didn't want them.
They were almost all disabled in some way, some couldn't speak nor feed themselves - we looked after them as though they were 'babies' - yet they all had massive dignity, and that just shone through them.

The day would start with getting them up in the morning, you got them out of bed, cleaned up the shit (if there was), put them in a dressing gown and in their wheelchair and then rushed them down to the shitter where they shat and pissed on the floor - then we hosed it off. It sounds crude and horrible, but there was a bunch of us all doing the same thing and there was real humour in it - no one got embarrassed.
Then we'd collect urine samples and do the diabetes test, then shower them which was a two man job - then give them breakfast and settle them down in the 'sun room' - they all had their favourite places in there and that had to be adhered too or it caused friction.
Then you'd go back and make the beds and get some breakfast yourself.

On Sunday's we'd 'dress 'em up' in case they got visitors and they got two biscuits with their cup of tea. I don't remember any of them getting visitors .......... and that affected me for years - it was like they'd been thrown away.

It was one of the most physically demanding jobs I've ever had - I was fourteen and had to manhandle blokes twice my size and weight ...... and sometimed I got it wrong. We were dressed in 'whites' and our shoes (white) had a hard 'clicketty clack' sole. One morning I was swinging my man out of bed to get him in his wheelchair and he started 'whaling' on me with his fists and elbows. By the time I got him in the chair I had a bleeding nose and the beginning of a black eye ........... I'd been standing on his toes and he showed me his displeasure in the only way he could.

Over the three years I was there several of them died, mostly didn't wake up - and sometimes I'd be a bit shy to approach the bed because some of them looked pretty dead - but weren't. The relief when they weren't was pretty big .........
The nurses in the men's ward were all male and down in the womens wards they were female - except they were often short staffed down there and I always got the short straw and ended being sent down and helping out.
Was like walking into a chicken factory when you went through the door into the ward - old women never ever stop talking. And they never liked the biscuit they got given - and they'd shit the bed ten minutes after they shit it the time before so they could get attention. Cleaning up an old woman was no joy, I'd get groped and the nurses found it hilarious - then I'd have to change uniform as I been groped with a shitty hand.
The 'old women' liked me down there - I was the only male in the place.

I've never forgotten that job - I got to love those old blokes and sometimes I'd be there when they pumped them out before they got taken away - it was a chance to say goodbye and the ward nurses would pop in and touch them before going back to work.
Those nurses were something else too - I never heard a harsh word nor saw harsh treatment - they absolutely cared for those blokes - and I've never forgotten that.

Originally Posted by SF90

I looked after a lot of those dudes - some so old their tattoos had faded and melted and couldn't be see for what they were any more. Many were war vets and they were there because they couldn't look after themselves any more .......... and 'home' couldn't deal with them anymore - or didn't want them.
They were almost all disabled in some way, some couldn't speak nor feed themselves - we looked after them as though they were 'babies' - yet they all had massive dignity, and that just shone through them.

The day would start with getting them up in the morning, you got them out of bed, cleaned up the shit (if there was), put them in a dressing gown and in their wheelchair and then rushed them down to the shitter where they shat and pissed on the floor - then we hosed it off. It sounds crude and horrible, but there was a bunch of us all doing the same thing and there was real humour in it - no one got embarrassed.
Then we'd collect urine samples and do the diabetes test, then shower them which was a two man job - then give them breakfast and settle them down in the 'sun room' - they all had their favourite places in there and that had to be adhered too or it caused friction.
Then you'd go back and make the beds and get some breakfast yourself.

On Sunday's we'd 'dress 'em up' in case they got visitors and they got two biscuits with their cup of tea. I don't remember any of them getting visitors .......... and that affected me for years - it was like they'd been thrown away.

It was one of the most physically demanding jobs I've ever had - I was fourteen and had to manhandle blokes twice my size and weight ...... and sometimed I got it wrong. We were dressed in 'whites' and our shoes (white) had a hard 'clicketty clack' sole. One morning I was swinging my man out of bed to get him in his wheelchair and he started 'whaling' on me with his fists and elbows. By the time I got him in the chair I had a bleeding nose and the beginning of a black eye ........... I'd been standing on his toes and he showed me his displeasure in the only way he could.

Over the three years I was there several of them died, mostly didn't wake up - and sometimes I'd be a bit shy to approach the bed because some of them looked pretty dead - but weren't. The relief when they weren't was pretty big .........
The nurses in the men's ward were all male and down in the womens wards they were female - except they were often short staffed down there and I always got the short straw and ended being sent down and helping out.
Was like walking into a chicken factory when you went through the door into the ward - old women never ever stop talking. And they never liked the biscuit they got given - and they'd shit the bed ten minutes after they shit it the time before so they could get attention. Cleaning up an old woman was no joy, I'd get groped and the nurses found it hilarious - then I'd have to change uniform as I been groped with a shitty hand.
The 'old women' liked me down there - I was the only male in the place.

I've never forgotten that job - I got to love those old blokes and sometimes I'd be there when they pumped them out before they got taken away - it was a chance to say goodbye and the ward nurses would pop in and touch them before going back to work.
Those nurses were something else too - I never heard a harsh word nor saw harsh treatment - they absolutely cared for those blokes - and I've never forgotten that.

that's fucken awesome mate.

Originally Posted by ANTSMAN

that's fucken awesome mate.

Yeah - had a lot of jobs since, but that just might have been the most satisfying

Originally Posted by SF90

Yeah - had a lot of jobs since, but that just might have been the most satisfying

Hi SF90,you should do a nursing degree.You got a good heart for the patients.

Originally Posted by Trout

Hi SF90,you should do a nursing degree.You got a good heart for the patients.

Ha, ha, ha - XR500 nailed it, I'm getting to the end where it wont be long before I'm one of those old 'gentleman'.

I've actually had a remarkably good life, don't think I'd change any of it.

And having said that I'm wondering if I've become like a 'woman' who has forgotten the pain of childbirth .................. the human survival system.

Nah - it's been good