When the going got tough, Tough got going!

The workaholic who has bred a dynasty of champions, and never had a holiday in his life, says the full seven days is killing him!

But the happy octagenarian, who is Tough by name and tough by nature, thrives on working at the Dangerous Corner, Leigh, home he made his world over 50 years ago.

Sitting in his bungalow, bedecked with hundreds of photographs and rosettes, he recalls his life, the good times and tragedies, before and after settling down to build one of the biggest scrap yards in the country.

It reads like a Catherine Cookson novel!

Born in the back streets of Fulwell in Sunderland, raconteur George was the son of a coalman, who used to buy and sell horses.

From a young age he was involved in the family business and would deliver coal with a horse and cart before going to school.

His father died when he was just seven, so he helped his mother in the trade -- until she died when he was 14.

He was then left to bring up his five sisters, keeping them clothed and fed by travelling with a pony and cart, selling fruit and herring in summer, and coal in the winter.

He said: "My older brother didn't want anything, but I wanted everything, the world, the sun, the moon and the stars, so I took over the business."

In his teens Toughie had to survive in a world of men, and with a friend would buy and sell ponies.

"They were only £2 each then with half a crown profit," he said.

It was these early years that set him on the track to becoming a horse breeder of great repute.

He said: "I only had three choices. My sisters either went to the poor house, I could rob somebody, or sell a pony. I chose the latter.

"I learned from the best teacher in the world, Mr Necessity. I have made lots of mistakes, but I have learned from them -- or tried to."

Since he moved to Westleigh Lane 52 years ago George has lived between two public houses, the Bull and Butcher and Railway Tavern -- but has never set foot in either.

He said as a young man he made himself three promises, not to smoke, drink, or marry, but only managed to keep the first two vows.

He said: "At the age of 15 or 16 I used to see men smoking and coughing, and, before the days it was known to be dangerous, I thought it couldn't be doing them any good. I decided for myself it would be a daft thing to do as I was a keep fit man. In those days I could carry a pony on my back.

"The reason for not drinking was because I used to deal with older men who were easy to deal with when sober, but after drink they lost their senses. I vowed I would never touch a drop -- and I haven't.

"I decided not to marry after seeing women with a child tugging at their apron, one on their arm and one in their belly. I couldn't imagine myself in such poverty and decided that was not going to be me."

However the last pledge was broken as he sat in a tent talking to a member of the famous gypsy Lee family, Pat. The eldest of Pat's three daughters, Kitty, walked past to fill a bucket of water and that was it. I had only seen her from the back and knew straight away she was the one for me. I hadn't seen her face, but she walked like a funeral horse, tall and proud.

"As soon as she turned round it was love at first sight."

That meeting led to almost 60 years of marriage and a life on the road for George.

At 22 he joined the Lee camp, Kitty telling fortunes and selling lace, wooden flowers and pegs.

Evenings were spent storytelling around camp fires at towns throughout the north of England.

George continued his horse dealing, buying runaways and turning them into rideable and driveable horses.

Among the travelling community he was held in high esteem and at gypsy fairs his ability to show off a horse brought numerous requests.

He won the majority of the trotting races at the northern fairs including the famous Appleby trot -- and his horses were always in demand.

During the war he went into hiding. He was a conscientous objector on the grounds that he couldn't leave his wife at the side of the road with wagons and horses -- and mares in foal: "Kitty wasn't a horsewoman and we had two little girls and no residential home. It wasn't because I didn't want to fight."

He became a wanted man and was arrested several times and slung into military prison, but resourceful as ever managed to escape.

His name changed week by week.

"When I was on the run if I bought a horse and cart with a name on the side, that's who I became."

As the Tough family got bigger, life on the road became harder and George decided it was time to find a house.

He came to Dangerous Corner and built up his scrap business under the name of Richard Smith and Son -- a name inherited from a cart he was driving -- and his empire known simply as Dicky Smith's scrapyard.

In its heydey there were 1,000 back axles and 1,000 front axles lying in heaps.

George wound down that business when Kitty became ill. She later died, but the horse breeding continues to this day. The luxury of having his own land meant George could build stables, and for years he bred not only trotting horses but also palominos and spotted horses and ponies.

And horse blood runs in the family. There are few prizes the clan has not won.

For 45 years George has been breeding the same line and through 10 generations he has produced not only show winners but trotting horses, including Donasorb King, which was sold to America and smashed the world trotting record.

Five generations are still alive today and have born a harvest of champions, and there are few county show championships that have eluded his family.

George, who has five surviving children from a family of nine, is still busy daily with his horses, which run in the blood.

His son, Willy, who died from cancer at the age of 52 last year went deeper and higher in the business. While George is a breeder, Willy, a dealer, was Master of the North East Cheshire Drag Hunt and ran the Manchester Equestrian Centre with his son Emerson.

A grandfather of 15, who keep up their demand for new horses, George recently became a great grandfather for the first time, and little Isaac William Tough, was given a miniature shetland pony as his "luckspenny".

George said: "It is custom to give a child a luckspenny. It used to be a halfpenny pressed into their hand with the blessing 'I hope you have many thousands of them and live a long life'. Then it went up to to £10 notes and £50 notes, but I bet little Isaac is the first to own a pony at one day old."

George says work has been the key to his long life -- and for "Uncle Toughie", 86 next month, there's clearly no signs of a first holiday or retirement on the horizon.