Wonderful Memories

My family consisted of mum and dad, and seven kids.  The eldest two were boys and the other 5 girls.  I was, and still am the youngest. My parents came out from England with the three eldest. Of course I don't know a real lot of what went on in those early days before I was born, or for that matter for a few years after I was born.  Its only hear say and who's to know if its all true?  One can only rely on ones own memories.  They are probably somewhat embellished as well. Though mine will not be..........I loved my brothers and sisters most of the time.  I didn't have a lot to do with my eldest brother or my eldest sister, but for some reason, the younger of the two brothers seemed to get my attention.  He was busy with school, the farm work and his hobbies I guess but I followed him around and just wanted to do the things he did. One night, (I guess I was  about 5yrs old), he had to get the cows in.  He didn't want to so I thought I would do it for him.  It was pitch black outside, but for some strange reason i was not afraid.  I heard my dad roar at him to hop to it and get the blimmen cows in.  He came out the back door and saw me and asked what I was doing.  I told him I would help him, but he told me to go inside.  I pretended to , then when he was out of sight, I decided to follow him.  I had to climb through a barbwire fence to get out into the great unknown.  I don't know what I did wrong.  I'd been climbing through this fence for at least 2 years.  Anyway somehow i got myself caught on the barbs and instead of backing up I tried to keep going.  This resulted in some painful tearing.  It was not my clothes, but my thigh.  Now I don't care what you say, if you were five and just ripped your leg open on a barbwire fence, in the pitch blackness of night, you would do what I did next too. I began to ......cry.  This time though, it wasn't a soft or sad cry, it was a loud terrified cry.  I was calling for my brother cos I thought he would be closeby.  I called for my mother.  No way would she hear me.  She was safe and sensible inside, probably wondering where I was.  I know I was beginning to be very afraid, and I was moving trying to unhook myself, so that was making my situation worse.  My leg was soooooo painful.   I was just about to kick the bucket when my brother arrived.  "What are you doing?  I told you to go inside!"  He called out to dad, and somehow he heard and arrived on the scene.  Between the two of them they managed to unhook me and dad carried me inside.  Now you have to understand we may as well as lived in Outer Mongolia.  Our nearest neighbours were a fair way away, and the only transport we had at that time was a tractor.  When mum saw what had happened, she said I had to go and get it stitched up.  How were we ever going to get to a doctor?  Dad had the answer.  You could always count on dad for the answer.  It didn't always make sense.  Sometimes it was most certainly wasn't the right answer, but on this occasion apparently, he hit the nail on the head. (or to be precise, the cotton in the needle)  I don't know if i was bleeding badly or not, but it was obvious that I needed  attention, (and boy wasn't I getting it) so dad had a brainwave.  He would sew me up himself. HaHaHa.  I get slightly hysterical just thinking about it.  I remember laying across his knee, while the rest of the family (those who weren't squeemish) stood around trying to make me laugh.  He put something cold on my leg and it began.  I honestly don't remember the actual sewing taking place, but I do remember when he had finished.  He said something like "not a bad job, if I do say so myself"  and that was that.  I still have a long scar on my leg and I"m quite proud to think my dad did that to me cos he loved me. (And there was no other way to have it seen to) Aaaaah life in the country.  Gotta love it!