My Granny lived in Ireland and each summer I was 'shipped over' for the six week holidays. It felt like a different world from the urban Manchester of the 60's - milking cows, collecting eggs and harvesting mushrooms for breakfast. We left the farm after breakfast and weren't expecting ted to return until lunch, and then dinner.
All the food was produced on the farm - bread, eggs, butter, milk, meat, potatoes and vegetables. The food somehow tasted exotic and different. The freedom is what I remember most along with sense if being safe.
You take these things for granted as a child but my memories of my tine spent with my gran are now priceless.
She taught me how to bake, make butter, how to milk a cow, harvest wheat and inumerable things that I would not have had the opportunity to experience.