Alice wasn’t a farm girl. She was city raised, but she had fallen in love and married George and he was a sheep farmer. They had been engaged before the outbreak of the First World War, and George had returned home with an injured knee. It wasn’t particularly debilitating, but at times things flared up and he had to see a doctor.
The sheep farm had a cow to provide milk for the household, and of course it had to be milked every day. By now they had a daughter, Margaret. And then… George’s knee flared up and he had to go to hospital.
Alice had never milked a cow in her life but it was a task that had to be done. She took three hours on the first attempt. Eventually she walked over to the neighbouring farm and asked, “Can you come over and show me how to milk the darn cow?” Alice quickly became adept.
After a few months George’s knee hadn’t healed and the farm was too much of a burden. They sold the farm and went to live in the town.
Daughter Margaret wasn’t really a farm girl. She was city raised, but she had fallen in love with Bert and he was a farmer. One day Bert went down on one knee and said to Margaret, “Will you marry me?”
“Only if you first teach me how to milk a cow,” said Margaret.