They had been travelling for over 4 hours when Mr Finleyson pulled off the motorway for diesel.
It was now close to 5:00 pm.
After filling up, he pulled over to a rest stop and fed and watered the hens, including Martha. He walked around to stretch his legs. He got back in the Land Rover and unwrapped one of the sandwiches he had made and took out the flask of coffee he had wedged between the front seats. It was still hot. No point in spending money on the overpriced stale food and dishwater coffee that motorway diners served.
He had always been a careful man when it came to spending money. He could not help it as his parents' had been the same way.
While he sat in the Land Rover, with Martha and all other hens clucking away, he thought back to when he was a child.
He was one of two boys' and his father had been a breeder of hens and had also travelled the country showing them.
His father had taught him everything he knew from since he could walk and talk. His older brother was not interested in hens or the farm. His name was Edward and was 7 years older than Mr Finleyson.
Edward had passed away 2 years ago. There was only Oliver left and a nephew who lived in London. He was Edward's son.
His brother was only interested in books and his school studies. All Edward wanted was to become a doctor. He went to Cambridge on a scholarship and achieved his ambition of becoming a doctor.
He then went on to be a consultant at Guys Hospital, where he was their top heart surgeon. He was known as Mr Finleyson at the hospital and to his patients but to Oliver, he was his older brother of whom he was immensely proud as had been his parents.
So Oliver followed in his fathers footsteps.
His father gave him a few chicks to look after when he turned 5 years old. As he got older, he was given more chicks to raise himself so he could learn the business.
By the age of 10, he was entering his hens up and down the country at shows with his father.
Oliver would be entered in the Young Farmers of Britain category. By 12, his hens would win most of the top prizes at the shows he entered. His bedroom was full of first place trophies and ribbons. His trophies stood proudly on his chest of drawers and his ribbons adorned one wall opposite his bed.
It was now close to 5:00 pm.
After filling up, he pulled over to a rest stop and fed and watered the hens, including Martha. He walked around to stretch his legs. He got back in the Land Rover and unwrapped one of the sandwiches he had made and took out the flask of coffee he had wedged between the front seats. It was still hot. No point in spending money on the overpriced stale food and dishwater coffee that motorway diners served.
He had always been a careful man when it came to spending money. He could not help it as his parents' had been the same way.
While he sat in the Land Rover, with Martha and all other hens clucking away, he thought back to when he was a child.
He was one of two boys' and his father had been a breeder of hens and had also travelled the country showing them.
His father had taught him everything he knew from since he could walk and talk. His older brother was not interested in hens or the farm. His name was Edward and was 7 years older than Mr Finleyson.
Edward had passed away 2 years ago. There was only Oliver left and a nephew who lived in London. He was Edward's son.
His brother was only interested in books and his school studies. All Edward wanted was to become a doctor. He went to Cambridge on a scholarship and achieved his ambition of becoming a doctor.
He then went on to be a consultant at Guys Hospital, where he was their top heart surgeon. He was known as Mr Finleyson at the hospital and to his patients but to Oliver, he was his older brother of whom he was immensely proud as had been his parents.
So Oliver followed in his fathers footsteps.
His father gave him a few chicks to look after when he turned 5 years old. As he got older, he was given more chicks to raise himself so he could learn the business.
By the age of 10, he was entering his hens up and down the country at shows with his father.
Oliver would be entered in the Young Farmers of Britain category. By 12, his hens would win most of the top prizes at the shows he entered. His bedroom was full of first place trophies and ribbons. His trophies stood proudly on his chest of drawers and his ribbons adorned one wall opposite his bed.
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