Friday
2 August 2013
Wow
here it is again yet another Friday, and not only that it is already August,
where on earth did the first seven months of the year go?
I’ve
ben reading a book, I know it is amazing isn’t it,yes that’s right I have
forsaken the kindle for real paper pages
The
book is called Forgotten Voice, by Gilda O’Neil.
The
author has recorded and documented the memories an oral history about hop
picking in Kent.
My
grandmother went hop picking in Nelson New Zealand when I was small child so it
is likely that she went hop pecking in Kent along with hundreds of other East
End women.
Below
is an excerpt from a website I discovered about just that .
It is an early March morning; there is a chill
in the air and the dew still glistens on the hedgerows as the print-pinafored
workers make their way to their bins in a Nelson hop-field. They hang up their
satchels, don their gloves, cut a string (for the official cutter has not yet
arrived) and set out on what would appear to be the almost impossible task of
filling the bin. Hop-picking is piece-work, so that the greatest reward comes
to the deftest fingers, and these are almost invariably women's. In these days
of unemployment many men take on the work, but they are no match for the women,
who, for years have made and broken local records. These are the experienced
pickers, but there are some who come each year to the hop-fields of Nelson for
health and holiday and who go home with a reasonable cheque as well. This is an
occupation where town and country meet.
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