This is part of a series of childhood memories of Trumpington in the 1940s and 1950s. For an introduction to the series, see Childhood Memories of Trumpington .
If you will forgive my indulgence I would like to finish these recollections with an extract from a poem that I composed as a eulogy upon his death in 2005.
by the name of Allis-Chalmers.
And you spent many hours alone in her company
as she ploughed each field with furrows.
As a child I’d sometimes join you on her ample bench type seat.
The constant roar of the engine and the screaming of the gulls
made conversation difficult
and I often fell asleep.
So you’d put your strong arm round me,
to stop me falling and getting crushed,
and we’d plough ’till after sunset
then bike home, through the dusk.
This is how we bonded,
. . . a father and his son.
. . . In silence . . . on a tractor,
the three of us as one.
Many hours I spent in your company
through all seasons on the farm.
The other workers called me Young Ron,
to which I proudly warmed.
You were such a gentle man,
moderate of voice and slow of hand.
You gained respect through love, not fear,
and sowed seeds of common decency in the minds of both your sons.”
Ron Goodliffe on the tractor, with Brian sitting beside his father and Michael standing on the trailer, 1956, probably from the gateway into Trumpington Park, looking across Grantchester Road to the churchyard. Photo: Goodliffe family.