Teacher mum was a Land Girl in Kedleston nursery

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Piano teacher Marjorie Haddock was a Land Girl with a difference during the Second World, for she worked, not on a farm, but on a market garden. But the work could be just as harsh, especially in winter, as her daughter, Brenda Ray, of Mickleover, describes here.

Marjorie Haddock in her Land Girl uniform with her husband, Fred, her parents and brother in the garden of her home in Allestree during the Second World War

It is generally believed that most Land Girls worked on farms and often lived in with the farmer’s family or in hostels. However, this was not always the case.

My mother, Marjorie Haddock, who died in 1995, worked as a Land Girl on a small market garden in Derby itself. It was on Kedleston Road, almost opposite the shops and belonged to Fred Ride, who also had a greengrocer’s in that row of shops.

She travelled to work by bus or bike every day from her home at Allestree. Fred was a bit of a character and, like many older men who suddenly found themselves in charge of young women, was a bit resentful at first, though my mother soon won him over.

She had been a piano teacher before the war, as well as working in various offices, which she hated, and perhaps he felt she wasn’t quite suitable for the job.

He often used to play little tricks just to annoy her, like tipping things over when she’d just swept them up and, on one occasion, apparently, he blew his pipe smoke in her face.

This was too much for my mother, who could be quite fiery, and she aimed a sharp swipe in his direction, knocking the pipe clean out of his mouth. It was an old-fashioned clay one and broke in several pieces on the path.

I think my mother was even more surprised than he was, as she thought he would duck and he didn’t. Being a pianist, she had hands like iron. A sort of stunned silence followed, after which a truce was established and they became the best of friends.

My mother always loved her time as a Land Girl and said she had never felt so fit. It was the only part of the war which she enjoyed. She hated all the glorification of the Second World War in the years that followed. She remembered the night of the great raid on Coventry and how you could see the glow of the city burning in the night.

She also remembered the raid on Rolls-Royce and saw the plane responsible as it sped away while she was on top of a trolleybus on the way to work that morning She said she saw the pilot quite clearly.

There has been some speculation that there might have been two planes that day. This would tie in with what she told me as the plane she saw flew over or along the route of Kedleston Road and away over Markeaton Park.

I believe she said the bus was buzzed or fired at by the plane but I may have confused this part of the story.

My mother enjoyed the work, hard though it was. She always said sprout-picking was the worst, as it was done with a very sharp knife when it was freezing cold and the risk of finger amputation was considerable.

Occasionally, she would take produce to the market and I remember when I went shopping with her as a child, that she knew most of the stallholders in the vegetable market.

She left the market garden in 1944, just before I was born, and would often take me to see Fred in his shop or at the nursery. Fred Ride had very bright, white hair. She told me once that his hair had turned white overnight, quite literally, when he was very young.

Apparently, as a boy sailor in the First World War, he had been on a ship in a Canadian harbour when two ships collided and an ammunition ship exploded. He was one of a handful of survivors; a phenomenal number were killed.

Years later, I came across a book about the Halifax, Nova Scotia, Explosion, in 1917, and concluded that this must have been the event I’d been told about.

My father’s name was also Fred and mother’s maiden name was Neal. I think she was the only Land Girl who worked at Fred Ride’s nursery. I never heard her mention anyone else being there. The nursery closed and was built over about 1970.

The photo shows her in her uniform, which was actually quite smart – breeches, green pullover and a rather dashing hat – though I don’t suppose it stayed like that very long, in view of the dirty jobs they had to do.

When she asked Fred where to put the endless sweepings, his response was, “Just sweep ’em round until you lose ’em.”

She was quite happy shovelling manure, however, and said you could use the stuff to stick a spade handle back on, if need be!

Also in the photo are my father, my grandparents, and my mother’s brother, who was in the RAF, also in uniform, in the garden of their house in Kingsley Road, Allestree.

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