Old McBowyer had a farm..........

Here's an episode from my family's story that has always fascinated me. In the scheme of things, nothing grand but it is a unique piece of social history. First a little background and then the connection with my family.

I would guess that few people are aware of the Land Settlement Association, I certainly wasn't until I started looking into it. It was established in 1934 to provide employment on the land for unemployed industrial workers from

depressed areas, most particularly the coalfields of North East England and South Wales. Between 1934 and 1939 1,100 small-holdings were established within 26 settlements.^[Posters and pamphlets were distributed through employment exchanges inviting men to apply and the successful applicants were vetted for suitability to the rural life and given a medical examination. After that, they received agricultural training and each family was given 5 acres to cultivate plus some livestock to rear. The small holdings were run as a co-operative, with growing glasshouse crops a prominent part of the communal commitment. But many communities failed when men complained of the long hours, low pay and the isolation of rural life. Recruitment to the scheme ceased at the outbreak of World War II and the settlements were dissolved and eventually privatised in 1983.

And the connection with my family? My grandfather, Norman Bowyer, was part of the scheme. He had worked down our local pit (Bedwas Navigation Colliery) for many years and was invalided out in the late 1930's because of a serious case of 'dust' (pneumoconiosis) which ultimately lead to his premature death, leaving a widow and six children. Back to the story: for reasons that my mother

cannot remember (perhaps he was after a better life for his family? A new beginning in pastures new?), he enrolled and was accepted. This strikes me as rather strange as his poor health meant that he had difficulty walking any sort of distance. And they expected him to farm the land? He had six weeks of rudimentary agricultural training in Chichester and, again it's strange that his health was not flagged up as a contraindication to becoming a son of the sod. A pretty rigorous selection process? I think not.

Not withstanding all this, he was allocated a smallholding at Harrowby Hall Estate, just outside of Grantham in Lincolnshire, a good 200 miles from his home in Trethomas. The contents of their house were loaded onto a lorry (granddad and 'the boys' travelled in the lorry and nan and 'the girls', one of whom was my 14 year-old mother, went to Grantham by train) and off they all went. Nan and the girls arrived first and, to put it mildly, nan was not impressed. The promised house was dirty, miles from anywhere and the neighbours, although very kind, were Geordies with strange personal habits and impenetrable accents. My mother remembers nan greeting the arrival of the furniture lorry by standing in the middle of the road, waving her arms and saying "turn back. I'm not staying here". In the event this was not immediately possible and it took a month before they could head back to South Wales. And for all this time, my nan refused to unpack their furniture and the family (two adults and five children) all had to sleep downstairs together on the floor, as the beds remained in pieces. And they wonder where my stubborn streak comes from!

And that's my family's experience with an experiment in social engineering. For them the rural idyll just didn't work out but, hats off to granddad, for giving it a go. Who knows, if they'd stayed, they might have bumped into the young Miss Roberts who became Margaret Thatcher? Mmmm, maybe going back to South Wales was the better choice.