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Hop-picking

Hop Picking any memories

Although i am only a young 59 year old , i have fond memories as a child going hop picking with the family.
Any one have any memories to share. Max
 
Re: Hop Picking any memories

Max, I think we have had a thread on this before, try the Search Engine, or one of our clever friends will find it for you.
 
You pipped me to the post Ray. Our local pub at Button Bridge decorate the pub with hops each year above the bar. Does anyone know what this would have been done for?. Maybe just te beer connection. Jean.
 
Graham. Have just read your story, and have shed a tear for the love and fortitude your family showed. How hard it must have been for your mom in those days. I realise how lucky I was, having been born after the war, and also the youngest child. The others were a lot older than me. I used to go to a place called Sinton Green, a tiny village the other side of Worcester. Mostly with the fishing Club from Dad's working mans Club in Brum. We used to go and talk and watch the hop pickers on many a fine day, and then of an evening they used to come up to the Live and Let Live where we were staying, and play table bowls and shove 'appeny. The gaffers wife used to bake her own bread and make blackberry and apple jam. Even now I can see her slicing the bread and lauping the butter and jam onto the bread. I can even taste it. No matter how I have tried, I have never matched the taste. Ah well. Best wishes
Lynda
 
Re: Hop Picking any memories

Oh thanks Sylvia i will have a look, i was sitting here thinking about my wonderful childhood, and i driffted away to "The Op Country" as we knew it in our house. Max
 
Once again thanks to all for reading and for your lovely comments. And Lynda just thinking about those days also brings tears to my eyes, not of sorrow but of joy, all the money in the world can't buy wonderful memories like that.

After I had written this piece I posted a copy to my sister Margaret in Brum, the one that fell in the cess pit, she was flabbergasted at how much I could remember and she recons that at the time I hadn't yet reach the age of 6!

Graham.
 
A wonderful video, thank you Cadeau, brought back memories of my youth. (im 59) Brummies of course went to the OP yards of Hereford and Worcestershire, i used to be placed in the end of the Crib and did my share of pulling the fantastic smelling hops from the vine. If i was lucky and i mostly was i would be given a HOPDOG to play with, which was the biggest caterpillar i ever saw then or now. Max
 
Thanks Graham for that. They still hop pick on the Teme where Pete fishes but he is trying to remember the farm. It is something Court. I love it when they dress the bars with the hops that is an art in itself. Jean. Pete just had a brain storm and said it is Orleton Court.
 
Fabulous story cadeau I never heard of brummies "op" picking I thought it a purely a cockney thing, also I have often wondered why or how a brummie wound up living in Belgium, I was a partner once in the 70's with a great bloke called "Lucian Paquet" who owned a Peugeot dealership in Mon's and wanted a Brit to help sell cars in the S.H.A.P.E HQ and who had the nessessary security clearence which I had, it was a great partnership for both he was also "Director General of the Importation des auto's Benelux" so I had some great invites in Brussells to dinners and "Do's", sadley he suffered a stroke whilst driving his 604 just outside Paris in 1979 and died. I certainly enjoyed my assocation with a country I knew very little about. One thing that doe's stick in my mind was the absolute hatred between the Fleme and walloon, it really reminded me of Northern Ireland and I remember thinking on more than one occassion that this could lead to some form of civil strife or war.
Paul
 
Lovely reading Graham, makes you feel peaceful imagining warm late summer days in the country.

Thanks to cousins Rose & Pat! I re-posted you this link because I know you've only been on the forum for a short while; welcome and I hope you enjoy your stay among all the good people here, x.
 
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