I mentioned that income on said farm wasn’t the best, and the results were..the stay on the farm Dad was always looking to cut costs, boost income, but without going into debt at all. Time spent on a chore didn’t mean a lot, if it saved a few dollars here and there, and these things added up.
Mending stuff was a priority. Darning socks, patching clothing per se. Clothing bought for little to no money at all, was top of the list. Furniture, farm implements, repurposed timber, scrap iron, it was all good stuff. Anything that went to the tip had absolutely no value to us at all. There was a refuse heap of odds and sods, too good to be thrown out, but for which a use hadn’t been found yet. With how the council tip used to be..a pile on the cliff overlooking the sea, it was open slather for fossickers. Dad routinely took a quarter of a load to the tip, and came back with a full load. The local council eventually had to move said tip inland, but it was quite handy for everyone concerned, especially us, ..it was on our land, and we extracted a yearly fee from the council, which helped lower the outgoings to said council, in the form of rates. Sadly, it was eventually moved down the road a tad, where gates and such prevented access, and we routinely got frowned at if we looked interested in Anything In There.

Thongs. not as sturdy as I had hoped. Numerous repairs done over the years. Now held together with tie wire, and a pair of roofing screws.
Soles are wearing a bit thin…