DEVELOPMENT
It was about this time that we had our first car, which my father bought from Arthur Sharpe. It was a Standard 10 and its registration number was AYW 668.
The car was black with leather seats, as was standard then, and the springing in the rear seat was rather worn out, so much so, that a wooden board had to be placed underneath it to give some support , but a very hard ride.
Coal was delivered at the rear of the house by lorry which travelled directly over the grass, often demolishing washing lines which some households had erected on the mountain. Households who did this, and we were amongst them, were at the bottom of Martin Street since, because of the direction of the course of a small stream, the gardens gradually got smaller the further down the row, which resulted in about 3 of the bottom houses having no rear gardens at all.
Childhood friends and exploits
The village was a very homely and caring place since everyone knew everyone else and like many other children of my age, I had many more aunties, or “bopas” as they were called, in the village, and uncles than actually existed in the family blood line.
At an age of just over 1 year, I made my way on foot, by myself, to Penybanc, a distance of 1 mile. On arrival at my grand parent’s house, my grandmother sent one of the Penybanc girls to Fochriw, via the railway line which was half the distance of the road route, to tell my mother where I was. My mother had not missed me. Such was the nature of the village in that she knew that although I was out of sight, I was safe!!!!!
My earliest friend was Barry Matthews, the grandson of Farley who owned the general store and café in Railway Terrace.
Barry lived in the house that was part of the store and it was located across the railway lines and directly opposite the signal box. The kitchen was located below street level and was accessed by a flight of stairs. Halfway down these stairs was a window and we used to sit on the windowsill and watch the engines, some of which, with their accompanying guards (brake) van, used to wait at the signal box before resuming their journey to Bargoed after the up trains had entered the passing loop in the station.
Barry and I were inseparable and had freedom to roam around the village. I recall crawling through the hatches of chicken coops which were only sized to allow a chicken to pass through, to steal eggs.
On another occasion I collected some small ducklings and kept them in a bottomless upturned bucket by the side of the railway line. However, the driver of a passing engine saw what I was up to and reported it to the station master. The ducklings, which belonged to Mr James of 27 Martin Street, died and my parents had to pay for them.
The Welfare Ground
The car was black with leather seats, as was standard then, and the springing in the rear seat was rather worn out, so much so, that a wooden board had to be placed underneath it to give some support , but a very hard ride.
Coal was delivered at the rear of the house by lorry which travelled directly over the grass, often demolishing washing lines which some households had erected on the mountain. Households who did this, and we were amongst them, were at the bottom of Martin Street since, because of the direction of the course of a small stream, the gardens gradually got smaller the further down the row, which resulted in about 3 of the bottom houses having no rear gardens at all.
Childhood friends and exploits
The village was a very homely and caring place since everyone knew everyone else and like many other children of my age, I had many more aunties, or “bopas” as they were called, in the village, and uncles than actually existed in the family blood line.
At an age of just over 1 year, I made my way on foot, by myself, to Penybanc, a distance of 1 mile. On arrival at my grand parent’s house, my grandmother sent one of the Penybanc girls to Fochriw, via the railway line which was half the distance of the road route, to tell my mother where I was. My mother had not missed me. Such was the nature of the village in that she knew that although I was out of sight, I was safe!!!!!
My earliest friend was Barry Matthews, the grandson of Farley who owned the general store and café in Railway Terrace.
Barry lived in the house that was part of the store and it was located across the railway lines and directly opposite the signal box. The kitchen was located below street level and was accessed by a flight of stairs. Halfway down these stairs was a window and we used to sit on the windowsill and watch the engines, some of which, with their accompanying guards (brake) van, used to wait at the signal box before resuming their journey to Bargoed after the up trains had entered the passing loop in the station.
Barry and I were inseparable and had freedom to roam around the village. I recall crawling through the hatches of chicken coops which were only sized to allow a chicken to pass through, to steal eggs.
On another occasion I collected some small ducklings and kept them in a bottomless upturned bucket by the side of the railway line. However, the driver of a passing engine saw what I was up to and reported it to the station master. The ducklings, which belonged to Mr James of 27 Martin Street, died and my parents had to pay for them.
The Welfare Ground
This photograph shows the Welfare Ground behind Williams Row as it was in 1938, however, ten or so years later it in a dilapidated condition. There were hardly any trees around it, the shelter was gone, the tennis courts were flat surfaces of gravel upon which a sawmill and builders stores were build. However, the swings, roundabout, and two jiggers were still in use.
