AFTER reading articles and letters in The Black Country Bugle about hop picking I thought I would tell you about how my mother and father met.
She used to go hop picking with my grandmother and family every year from Halesowen.
My dad was born and bred in Worcester and worked as a farmhand. He used to put the poles and wires for the hops to grow on.
They got married and lived in a farm cottage opposite the hop fields.
When my brother was born in 1915 he was taken around the fields by the nurse to see his dad. My brother lived to nearly 91 y ears of age and he passed away eight years ago.