by oldclaypaws » Fri Mar 07, 2014 10:14 pm
It wasn't a wood, but I ran a thriving market garden business from a piece of land starting from when I was 8 years old. I started growing house plants like Coleuses from seed in yoghurt pots on the lounge windowsill. Liking them, I decided to grow Radishes in the back garden. My mother gave me 6d for a bunch, as that's how much she would have paid for them down the village, from the old dear who had a veg stall run from a tin shelter by the bus stop. I promptly cycled the 2 1/2 miles down to the village, loaded with radishes to strike an exclusive supply deal. Hello, old vegetable selling crone, I quipped, I see you sell Radishes for 6d. I grow radishes, would you like to buy some of mine? Show me, she said. Ooh, very nice and fresh, I'll take two dozen bunches a week and give you 3d a bunch. Hence I was able to boost my income from a shilling pocket money to seven shillings a week. My brother, who was older and received a florin a week found himself financially outclassed. Can I have some land to grow Radishes, he asked Mother. No, Peter, I think one Radish Baron in the family is enough.
This early venture into capitalism proved useful training, by the time I was 16 I had a recycling business selling scrap metal I had salvaged, which was enough to acquire and run a motorcycle. By the time I was 26, I had progressed to running a Whiskey company. I think though in the boardroom I always yurned for those simple old days of washing and trimming my 'French Breakfast' and 'Scarlet Globes'.
