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as well as if he was a member of the family. But not all farm labourers were so fortunate.
    Pat’s week still involved six days of hard work and the hours were long, usually from 7.30 a.m. to 6 p.m. Workers were also asked to work on Sundays at harvest time, particularly if the farmer himself was not available for milking cows or feeding livestock. It was tough for labourers – but it was also tough for the farmers who were struggling with artificially low prices as a result of being tied to Britain’s cheap food policy for exports, as well as high input costs due to a lack of domestic competition. This meant that Irish farmers were forced to accept low prices for their produce which was being exported to Britain, Ireland’s biggest export market. Britain could dictate terms and prices because of our over-reliance on them as a customer. On top of this prices at home for consumer goods like clothes and footwear were artificially high due to the lack of true competition and import tariffs.
    Tractors were slowly becoming commonplace, but the majority of farm tasks still had to be done by hand – including milking and ploughing. A fifteen cow herd took a single man two and a half hours to milk by hand in the morning – the labourer then faced the same task each evening. Most farmers, particularly the small to medium operators, still took their milk to the local creamery by horse and cart.
    To make matters worse, Pat, like all other Irish labourers, was entirely responsible for his own work clothing and equipment. The disastrous economic policies pursued throughout the 1950s by Éamon de Valera’s government had driven consumer prices sky-high in Ireland. At this time, a basic pair of Wellington boots cost the princely sum of £1 and 10 shillings – almost two-thirds of an entire week’s wages. In 2010, it would be the equivalent of asking a farmer to pay €250 for a single pair of wellies. In 1960, a good quality pair of Wellingtons with heavy soles could cost as much as £2, yet labourers like Pat would be lucky to make a single pair last for more than three months.
    It was the same with work clothes. Clothing was carefully stitched and mended to make it last as long as possible – but Pat, when he couldn’t use hand-me-downs from his older brothers Dinny and Tom, had no option but to purchase his own work clothes. Most people considered themselves fortunate to have one pair of good shoes and one suit, which had to last for years and were reserved for special family events, Mass on Sunday and the odd dance.
    To make matters worse, there was no such thing as holidays or overtime. If extra work needed to be done on the farm, you just rolled your sleeves up and got on with it. The power of the church ensured that holy days inevitably meant a day off – but extra work to compensate had to be done both the day before and the day after. In that respect, Sunday came as a treasured relief. Afternoons were almost always free to attend a local GAA match, but money had to be saved to fund these activities. If one of the lads was lucky enough to have a car, everyone was expected to chip in towards the cost of petrol. Otherwise, distant GAA matches required a good bicycle and strong leg muscles.
    Living at home spared Pat some expenses, but he was still expected to make a financial contribution to the Mullins ’ household. That left only a modest sum each week for social spending. Even the traditional Christmas bonus – a vast payment of £5 which was made in lieu of an entire year’s worth of overtime and late working – seemed to disappear on clothes, shoes and sundry expenses.
    Pat was the youngest of Ned and Catherine Mullins’ children. Ned farmed a medium-sized holding just over two miles from Kilbehenny village. Ned’s holding at Boher was typical of the period – he milked cows, kept sheep, tilled a few fields with potatoes and turnips and even kept a few pigs for extra food and income. While his farm was decently