I was born on the 14th April 1929 at 2 Glenafon Cottages, Brook Place, Llangollen. We only lived there until I was about 6 years old. It was really an old area. One turned right off Pengwern Road into a cul-de-sac of quaint houses. The first house on the right belonged to Bill Pool, who was the Council Foreman. As I remember him now, he was a big man, a typical foreman with a bowler hat and fob watch - the sort of man for whom one had respect.

After Poole’s house, there was a pathway on the right about 2 yards wide with, seemingly, big steps every yard leading down to a brook. On the left on the way down were 4 or 5 toilets in a sort of a battery. They were yards from anyone’s house - I think maybe because of the smell, because where one entered them there was a thick plank of wood with a hole in it for one to do their business.

There was no flush system, but everything fell about 6 feet into a brook below, so when the weather was dry, it did not get washed away until the next heavy rain, when it was swept down the brook into the river.

When I think about it, it is a wonder we are still alive, as we used to go paddling and swimming in that brook, and river. It was quite normal to see the sewerage going by. Someone would shout “Here comes a tu--” and someone would reply, “By the size of that, they must have had a job parting with it!”

Below the toilets were 2 or 3 cottages called, I think, “Gwernafon” where we lived. We were a big family. They were really old cottages, no gas, electricity or running water. Water was obtained by a single tap situated in the middle of a yard, and in Winter, in spite of being shrouded in rags and suchlike, it would still freeze solid.

Lighting was obtained by using a paraffin lamp that had to be shielded when anyone came in, as the draught would make the hot lamp-glass shatter. I cannot remember how the cooking was done then. There were lots of rats around there and you could hear them scampering around when you had to go outside to the toilet, or to fetch water.

Living in the house were my Dad (Alfred) and Mam (Annie Louise), then Harold, Alys, Gerald, Patricia (Paddy), myself, Michael, and Brenda. How we all used to manage was, and still is, a mystery. My memories are all happy from that period. I suppose that I was too young to have any worries.

We used candles to light our way to bed. They were very cold houses and we used to throw big coats on the beds to keep warm at night. I remember having a drink of something, which I wanted to stir myself, but someone else stirred it first. I unstirred it by turning the spoon backwards. They all laughed at this and I got in a huff.

I remember George Maybury, (a cousin) throwing a brick and it hit me on the nose. I bled like a pig and suffered nosebleeds for years after that.

I also remember that we used to roam all over the place. Living next to a brook we could go tickling trout, and with only 10 minutes walk we could be deep in Pen-y-Coed Woods. We would build dens, look for bird’s nests, try to catch rabbits - things you cannot let children do now, because it is not safe for them.

One of the things I really enjoyed was going to the top of the woods, and there on one side, was a steep, grassy slope, called “Slidey”. Here all the kids would take big pieces of cardboard, pieces of sheet metal, and even old fireplace fenders. On these we would slide right down the grassy slope, which, as it got well ­used and dry, the speeds we got up to would frighten any of today's free­fall parachutists. I remember one Winter, my elder brother Gerald coming down the tarmac road down to the woods on a sledge and smashing straight into the railings and breaking his leg!

Now - to come back to the area where we lived. If one didn’t go down the steps where we lived, there was a medium-sized house on the right. Our Uncle George, (George Maybury) and Auntie Nellie lived there - they had 6 children. I think my paternal grandparents used to live there, but I do not remember them.

After Uncle George’s house, there was a row of terraced cottages, where the Pugh’s, Hughes’s, Williams, Langfords, and Joneses lived. I remember Sam Williams well. In the nice weather, he used to sit on the pavement and tell us children all sorts of wonderful tales. I think he had been in the Navy, and he had an artificial leg that one could see when his trouser leg was rolled up. It looked just like a doll’s leg, all hollow plaster, not a wooden one.

Next to the end was Jack Langford, who had a little group of musicians - they used to play at all the local dances. He had this lovely old, black Vauxhall car. I thought it was really great.

The end house was Dai Dick Jones and his wife Nellie, (Nellie was my Godmother). Dai Dick used to catch birds, chaffinches, I think. He used to put something sticky on the tree branches, the birds stuck to them and he would then cage them. They made lovely singers.

I used to go rabbiting with Dai Dick and my Dad. We would go up the mountains and put nets over all the warren holes, then put ferrets down. The rabbits would come scampering out into the nets. That was O.K unless a ferret caught a rabbit down the hole. He would have a feast then go to sleep and then you would have to dig him out.

Happy days! Everyone seemed to be in and out of each others’ houses and helping each other out - we were all very poor but happy.

Opposite the cottages were 2 or 3 houses, but I can only remember my Auntie Mabel living there. I cannot remember the others. At the end of the top road was a big iron gate to Pengwern Hall Farm. Whenever the owner of the Farm wanted to drive through the gate the children would run to open it for him and he would throw some coppers out. So it always used to be a rush to open the gate.

On our side of the gate was a house where the Wilson family lived. This house had a great big garden, very well cultivated with lots of grass. One day at the local Cattle Market, a bull got a bit mad and escaped. He was chased through the Town and ended up, of all places, in the Wilsons’ garden. He made a right mess! He was really mad and was shot in the end. There were not many people on the road that day, only twitching curtains . . .

Sometimes a travelling preacher would come to the ‘City’ and have us all sitting on the wall, singing hymns, like ‘I’m Happy, I’m Happy’ and ‘Rock of Ages’, and suchlike. We would all enjoy it, the simple things used to make people happy then.

In 1934-35 we were given a council house. It was great - electric light, gas cooking, water indoors, a bathroom and a toilet by the back door. No walking across yards to go to the toilet or to get water where there were rats scampering all around at night.

There were 24 brand new houses in an avenue, called “Coed Afon” (“The wood by the river”). It was alongside the A5 Holyhead Road. The rear garden was at the top of a 40 foot bank down to the River Dee. It was wonderful, you could be down by the river fishing in 10 minutes.

Most of our neighbours had lived near us before, as the old houses were derelict really. We had the Wil1iams living on one side, so we still had old Sam’s tales. I was very friendly with Dennis Williams and Gerald was matey with Douglas Williams. Gerald and Douglas had devised this tune they would whistle when one went into the back garden, and then the other hearing it, would come out.

I practiced this tune and when I thought I had perfected it, I went into our toilet and through the window, (which overlooked the back garden), I would whistle it, and they would both come rushing out. I got found out in the end and got threatened, so that was the end of that.

I had started school when I was still in the old house, and was going to the Infants in the National School. My teachers were Mrs. Burrows and Mrs. Cooper. I was in a play once and I had to say to Myfanwy Williams, “Where are you going to, my pretty maid?” She replied, “I’m going a milking, Sir.” I don’t know why that’s stuck in my mind.

There must have been an alteration to the educational system about that time, because I had to go to finish my infant schooling at the Central School, come back to the National School for Juniors, and then back to the Central for Seniors.

One time I think Gerald must have been responsible for me going to school, because one day, he, Doug Williams and myself got some cakes from Smith Edwards, (the Bakers), and went up to our old house. We made a fire and spent the day there. I thought this was good, so one day when I was in the Infants, I played truant with someone, I can’t remember who - but we were found out, the trouble being that everyone knew everyone else. When they saw two youngsters wandering about during school hours, Dad soon found out and that was the end of that.

Dad used to build coracles, and I always wanted to help. Well, I had a new suit for best, and I had been to Sunday School all dressed up. I rushed home to give the coracle a coat of pitch, but no, I was too eager to go and get changed, and I started to paint the coracle, I had an accident and knocked the pitch all over my suit trousers. The stain wouldn’t come out and as we were very poor, I had to wear the trousers complete with stain for a long time.

Dad always seemed to be very clever and versatile. He would make fishing rods, coracles, repair watches and clocks, radios and cars. He was a good rabbit catcher and one of the best salmon poachers about. He told me he only started poaching when he came back from the First World War, during which he was wounded. He said all the best salmon fishing had been bought and made private fishing by “all the local gentry, the ones who never went away to war”.

Arthur Edwards (a neighbour) and Dad each used to give me half-a-crown (2s.6d in old money) for every salmon of theirs that I took to the local hotels where they sold them. I used to put them in the bottom of our pram and sometimes I would have as many as 6 to deliver in one day. I was really in the money then and used to spend a lot on fishing gear.

Dad was a great trout fisherman. I would be fishing for ages without getting a bite. He would come along, take the rod, and before you knew where you were he would have a couple of trout on the bank.

He could pick out salmon in running water. He would say, “Look there’s a salmon lying in that current. I’ll have him tonight”. And he would!

I was down by Rock Pool fishing eels one day and as I was sitting there, a salmon’s head popped up right by my rod. It gave me such a fright. It then turned and went up river on the top of the water. I just wound in my rod and went home. Whilst we were having tea, Dad said, “You’re very quiet. What have you been up to?” I just said, “I had a fright with this salmon sticking his head up by my rod. I thought I had caught it”.

“What,” my Dad said, “You fool, why didn’t you tell me earlier? Come on!”.

So we left the table, he picked up a gaff and we ran down the river. On the way down, he said that when salmon acted like that they were getting weaker through lack of oxygen.

I showed him where I had seen it, and he back­tracked up the river. He found the salmon cruising up river and just walked into the river and gaffed the fish! I think we were back home within half-an-hour. He seemed to enjoy his tea better after that . . .

I had another sister Anne and a brother Terry, born at Coed Afon. So I had 4 brothers and 4 sisters. I remember war breaking out in 1939. It was on a Sunday morning. We were all listening to the wireless when they said that war had been declared.

I cheered, but my Mam and Dad had a right ‘go’ at me. I thought that war had been avoided - because I didn’t understand, for when an innings is declared in cricket, it’s all over. Anyway I think they understood in the end.

Harold was in the Territorial Army and was called up right away. Harold looked after the local golf links, he used to take me with him now and again and I would sit between his legs whilst he drove the tractor. He would teach me to drive. I thought that was pretty good at the age of 10. I had just had my appendix out. I really missed him.

I left school at the age of 14. I wanted to get to work and went for an interview at a local sheet-metal works, ‘Davies Bros’ at Mile End Factory. This firm had moved up from London because of the War. My Dad worked for them.

I got dressed up in my overalls and big boots. I was as skinny as a rake and every pair of trousers would go around me twice. Anyway, I thought that I would be starting work straight away but when I got to the firm’s office I found myself standing in front of the big bosses desk, where there were a couple of ladies seated, one on either side.

The boss (Broadhurst was his name) just kept me standing there for ages without saying a word. My legs were aching and I was anxious to start work. After what seemed an eternity he told me to come back tomorrow to start work. What satisfaction he got out behaving like that, I’ll never know.

It was really boring work, just standing by a machine making thousands and thousands of little pieces, but they were all for the War Effort. I started in April, but by the end of the year I got the ‘flu really bad - and didn’t stop off work long enough to recover.

I was only back at work a few days and I was ill again. I could not eat properly and felt really ill. I remember I was in bed one evening and thought that I was going to die, so I struggled to get up because I thought I wasn’t going to die in bed on my own, I would go downstairs to my family.

Dr. Benjamin kept testing me for various things until in the end, he sent me to Wrexham Chest Clinic for tests. When he got the report he came to examine me, because I had contracted Tuberculosis and he couldn’t believe it.

I was sent to Meadowslea Hospital at Penyfford near Chester for treatment - which at the time was mainly bed rest. The only bed available was in a Mens Ward for chronically sick patients. Every night was just full of the sound of coughing and the wheeling out of those that had died. I was really scared, because I was only about 15 years old.

I eventually got a bed in a younger ward which was a lot better, but I got another bout of ‘flu and was really very ill again. At that time, my younger brother Terry, was knocked down in a traffic accident and killed.

I was really fed up at that time.

My Mam was a real trooper! It must have been very difficult for her to come and visit me, being poor and having to take care of a big family, and also getting to Meadowslea, which couldn’t have been easy. But she always managed to turn up . . .

By then, my brother Gerald had volunteered for the RAF and his mate, Doug Williams for the Royal Navy. I never saw Dougie again. He was killed when the battleship HMS Hood went down. His younger brother Dennis was devastated.

My Dad sometimes used to visit me at Pen-Y-Fford. He would fetch bottles of Guinness which he said would cure me. I remember once on opening my locker, these bottles of Guinness went rolling across the ward floor. Fortunately there were no staff about at that time. He even brought a whole salmon one day and gave it to the cooks to be cooked for us, but we never saw any of it.

I have some wonderful memories of the patients and nurses that I met there, like Joe, who was deaf and dumb. He was the most wonderful draughts and chess player you could ever meet. I also ‘palled up’ with Cliff and Cyril - they used to call us ‘Pip, Squeak and Wilfred’!

After about 4 months I went home whilst waiting to go to the South Wales Sanatorium at Brecon. While I was home I found out that 2 or 3 other boys with whom I had worked at Davies Bros had contracted T.B. One of them, Jimmy Edwards who later died, had a sort of galloping T.B and possibly had been a carrier. I did see him before he died.

He was a great lad and I felt really choked when he died.

I went to the South Wales Sanatorium just before Christmas 1944. I had never been so far away from home before and was one of the youngest patients there. There were 400 men patients, mostly out of the armed services. We had a cinema and concert hall.

After the feeling of homesickness had declined, it was a wonderful atmosphere of ‘never-say-die’. I was in bed for about 7 months and had to have a small operation, but the surgeon only used to visit once a month. The first operation was not a success, and I had to wait another month for a repeat operation.

It was quite good there, because (if you had an egg), one could have poached egg on toast. Being war-time, that was quite a treat.

Once you had been allowed out of bed e.g. 2 hours - Week 1; 4 hours -Week 2, and so on, you had to convalesce - 2 mile walk - 1st week; 4 mile walk - 2nd week; 6 mile walk - 3rd week. Then you progressed on to gardening which by the end of 5 months got quite strenuous, like pulling a l0 cwt roller around the bowling green one day, cutting the grass the next. One week polishing parquet floors in the Dining Room and Concert Hall with 71b bumber each day.

The trouble was that half-way through this slog, I was playing snowballs, and fell over. I managed to damage my shoulder and knee. When these recovered, I had to start the convalescent grades all over again.

In all I was there for 17 months, but I found some wonderful people and it really was an experience (like being in the Service, I suppose).

I was in the South Wales Sanatorium on V.E.Day, but we didn’t know it, because a couple of days before, a couple of P.O.Ws had escaped in South Wales and when we heard the sirens, bells and bangings in the night we all gathered together thinking it was a fight with the P.O.Ws - but it was really the V.E.Celebrations!

I returned home in May 1946. Harold had returned home and had married Evelyn. Alys was married to Bert Bristow who had come up with Davies Bros. Gerald had married Mollie and had gone to live in Bournemouth.

I must regress here, I forgot that I must have been a pain in the backside to Gerald because before the War, he used to clear off with Reggie Corke for a weekend. One weekend he had to take me with him. What happened was they used to trek 2 or 3 miles down river, and wade across to an island. There they had a den and lived Robinson Crusoe style. I don’t remember crying to go with him after the one weekend. I don’t think I went a bundle on it.

So, to get back on track again. Michael (who I used to fall out with quite often) was quite brainy and artistic. He did well at school and went to the Technical College, in Wrexham. He later went to work on a farm, so there!

He nicked my new wellingtons one day to go to work, and stuck a pikell right through them. I used to sleep with him and on going to bed one night, couldn’t get in the bedroom. He had bolted the door. I hammered on the door, my Dad started to chisel the door, still no answer. I climbed up the drainpipe outside, and got in the window. Everyone feared the worst but there he was fast asleep!

He went and joined the RAF, so then I had the bedroom to myself. One night, I woke up and could hear someone trying to get into the bedroom window. Shaking like a leaf, I got ready so when they opened the side-window I could jump out of bed and push them out. I jumped and all I got was, “You silly bugger, what are you trying to do, kill me?” It was Michael coming home on leave, arriving very late and rather than wake everyone up, thought he would climb the drainpipe and get in through the window (silly sod!) So there.

Paddy worked in a local drapery store (Gracies in Castle Street) and was a great sister. She would do anything for you and was very brainy and thought everything out logically. She explained the ins and outs of every situation.

Brenda went to the local grammar school and was very laid back and bright, but then she ended up working in the Caefelin Laundry. That was the trouble with Llangollen, there were very few opportunities for anyone in such a small town as ours.

Anne also went to work in the Laundry. She was very bright but a right old ‘winder-upper’. She got away with murder with Dad after most of us had left home. He was very strict with us, but I suppose one had to be, with such a large family. As home got less hectic, I suppose he got more lenient and relaxed.

Mam was terrific. She would tease Dad and really get him going at times. They would be sitting at home quiet, when she would suddenly look out of the window and say, “Oh, there’s our Harold or Gerald coming. Must be on leave”. Dad would jump up all excited and seeing no one there would say, “You silly bugger, Annie”.

Terry was the baby of the family and was a lovely little boy. When he was upset he used to pack his precious things in a handkerchief, which he would sling over his shoulder. He would walk down the back garden towards the river, saying, “That’s it. I’m leaving home, and I’m never coming back”. A couple of hours later he would return, wanting his tea.

The last thing that I remember about Terry was at Christmas time. Our Uncle Percy (a very accomplished tailor, who lived further down our street in Coed Afon) made Terry a cracking cowboy suit completely out of soft leather, with leather trousers and a waistcoat. It fitted Terry like a glove, and Terry really thought he was “It”.

We didn’t have a lot of money in those days for presents, and we were very grateful for anything that we received.

Terry’s constant companion was our little mongrel dog, a bitch called “Mickie”. She was white, black and tan. When she saw a member of our family coming home she would bare her front teeth in a smile and she always hopped on one of her back legs as she ran around. She was completely faithful to all the family at all times. She would leap onto the settee and look out the window at 5 o’clock every night to wait for the first sight of Dad cycling home from work. How she knew the time I’ll never know but know it, she did!

Following the problems with my health, I was supposed to have a light job. I was sent on a rehabilitation course to Wrexham Technical College. There I was supposed to be learning office work. There were only 2 of us chaps and the rest were girls.

They were very nice people and I stuck it for 4 months. I picked up the work alright, but I didn’t think I could be stuck in an office for the rest of my life, so I left. I didn’t do anything for the next few months.

I was very friendly with Peter Bailey, whose father had an egg packing station. In those days, eggs were rationed. Stations were registered to collect all the eggs in the district and re­distribute them according to the Ministry’s instructions.

Mr. Bailey had also just started a frozen food company. He was a very astute man and could see the prospects for frozen food as long ago as 1949. Anyway, one day I wandered into the frozen food area with Peter Bailey. They had some mobile frozen food containers made to facilitate the ease of re-packing. These containers had no lids. I said that I thought I could easily make some lids and was told to give it a go. Luck was with me and the lids turned out to be quite professional.

Mr. Bailey asked me if I would like a job to help out in all areas of the business. I jumped at the chance because it would mean a variety of work. He also helped me take my driving test so I could also help out with covering for drivers as they took their holidays.

Whilst I was working there I met my future wife, Betty. She worked in the Egg Packing Station. She was a wonderful girl, and I know I could not have done any better.

Before I got married to Betty I broke my wrist and was off work. I spent the time doing a bit of salmon fishing with Phillip Smith and Trevor Wilson. We used to be able to get one salmon a day by hook or by crook.

I dropped a clanger one day. We were up by Mile End Weir, near Davies Bros. Factory. I got tempted by this lovely salmon in one of the weir boxes and leaned over too far. I slipped into the river fully dressed. The river was in flood and my only thought was to keep my plastered wrist out of the water, but to no avail.

The other lads took ages to come to help me because they were helpless with laughter! I had to walk home soaking wet in the bitterly cold weather, trying to keep my wrist in the correct position whilst the plaster dried. When I visited the hospital to see the Specialist he had a go at me, saying that I’d got the plaster wet. I told him I’d slipped whilst in the bath. I had to have a fresh plaster on, and all in all, I was in plaster for 16 weeks.

We bumped into the Police Sergeant one morning. (Luckily we had seen him first and had hidden the salmon).

He said, “I know where you three buggers have been and if you get caught by the bailiffs, I don’t want any fisticuffs or we will be called in. So be off with you”.

Me, have fisticuffs? I’m the biggest coward going. He must have been joking!

One day Den Will (Dennis Williams) and myself went down to the Lingo Pool. We crossed the river and caught a salmon. We were wading back across the river and when we were halfway across, waiting for us was the Bailiff. It was a fair cop!

He said “Don’t you know it’s illegal to take salmon from the river?”

We told him we had found it on the river bank on the other side. Luckily we had no fishing tackle with us - we used to hide it two other places along the river. Anyway, he said we could keep it! He just took a few scales from it!

Apparently, it was possible to tell its sex, where it had been, and if it had spawned by these scales. He told us he didn’t want to catch us again . . .

The best salmon we ever had was a 30lb salmon. We caught that just below the Lingo. It was when the water was very low. We saw this fish one day and then we lost sight of it. Later that week, we had scouted the river and were just about to give up, when we saw this enormous fish in the shallows. It was like a dream come true. It was well worth all our trouble!

Another money-making scheme was chopping up wood for firewood in bundles of sticks, but finding wood was becoming difficult. In those days, people still had coal fires and bought bundles of sticks to start their fires. We decided to cut down a tree and sell it for firewood to make some money.

Having just felled the tree and feeling like Canadian lumberjacks, we turned around to find that looking over the wall was Police Constable Garner Evans. It was another fair cop!

He said, “If you all let me have your names, or your permission to have felled that tree, we will get it all sorted out”.

We thought that that was it - we were all criminals now!

Anyway Desmond Langford, who was with us, happened to work for Eddie Evans. Eddie was responsible for felling all the trees in that wood. Dessie went to see Eddie Evans and explained what had happened. Eddie gave him a right rollicking but decided to take no further action.

We were also guilty of taking cars for joy-rides but we always put them back from where they came, usually with more petrol in than when we had started because we used to go and syphon petrol from machines on building sites.

One lad who shall be nameless, worked in a local hotel. He used to work behind the bar on some nights. The nights when he worked we would go in for a drink. A full round of drinks at that time used to come to about one shilling and fourpence (ls.4d in old money). That’s all we could afford at the time. When his boss was not going out this lad would give us his boss’s car-keys. We would then take the boss’s car out for a run.

We slipped up one night. We took the car out when it had been snowing. The boss saw the tyre tracks the next day and knew the car should not have been out. The nameless youth came chasing after us, and warned us not to go near the car.

We had a good laugh the next night, watching the copper hiding behind a wall, waiting for someone to take the car out.

When I worked at Bailey’s, I travelled about all over North Wales doing different rounds. I also travelled around Liverpool, Birkenhead, etc. I used to help out in the Frozen Foods when the Manager, Elwyn Jones, was busy or on holiday.

Elwyn was a great bloke. His nephew Desmond Evans was another of my joy-riding compatriots. We were out joy-riding one day and Dessie was driving and took his eyes off the road for a moment.

We were right behind a pole-waggon. That is, a large lorry that carries felled tree trunks. These trunks are usually very long and poke out behind the waggon for some distance. When Dessie looked back, the pole-waggon had suddenly pulled up. Dessie banged on the brakes and we ended up with the end of the tree trunks only 6 inches from our windscreen. That was really close!

I started repairing some of the firm’s vehicles when the local garage was busy. I really enjoyed that.

On 1st December 1951 Betty and I got married. We had a week’s honeymoon in London, staying with my sister Alys and her husband, Pert Bristow. They had moved back to London after the War with his firm, Davies Bros. When Betty and I returned home, we rented rooms with Mr. and Mrs. W. Poole in Church Street, Llangollen. However, there didn’t seem to be much future in Llangollen. There wasn’t much industry and what there was paid poor money.

When Alys and Bert said they were going to buy a bigger house in London, they invited us to go and rent rooms from them. Betty and I moved to London in August 1952. All our worldly possessions were contained in one tea-chest and one suitcase.

When you listen to your mates relating their experiences, you begin to think that you are missing out. My love life was nil in my single years!

We used to go up to a youth hostel up Barbers Hill in Llangollen. This hostel was known locally as the “Dogs Home”. Girls and boys from Liverpool youth hostels would come down to the “country” for a week’s holiday. All the local youths used to congregate outside like a pack of dogs waiting for a bitch on heat, which is how the hostel got its nickname. These local youths would seem to spend most of their time there during the summer months.

I was OK in a crowd but left to my own devices with a girl, I was useless and if lucky, might end up with a kiss! But it was all good fun, and we made a lot of friends with these visitors.

I met a girl from Bowen’s the Vet, who had his Surgery on Castle Hill. One night we were together by the bus stop waiting for a bus to Cefn Mawr, but none came. It was winter and the roads were really bad. This girl asked me if I would like a cup of tea at the Vet’s house, which was just up the hill from the bus stop. She also said there was no one in the house at present, so off we went.

Once we arrived there, we went inside into a big lounge, she put her arms around me and gave me a kiss with her mouth open. I wondered what she was up to, as I didn’t know about this sort of thing. I was feeling a bit scared, when there was a noise outside. She said it must be the Vet returning. I shot out through the french windows and across the gardens, over the wall and off home. I had an early night that night. I avoided that girl like the plague afterwards.

Another time, I was dating a girl from Fron. She was a really nice girl but she packed me up because she thought I was too slow. Norman Woods, who was going with her mate, told me to get hold of her and kiss and cuddle her, but I couldn’t build up the courage. I went to her house with her one night, and her little brother said to me, “Coo, aren’t you thin!” I suppose that didn’t do my ego much good.

We met some girls one night who were holidaying in a cottage near the Eglwyseg Rocks. So we thought, this sounds good. We walked them home, but on our arrival there, they said, “Good night”, and went in. What a let down! We had to walk b---dy miles to get home!

The best I could achieve was a goodnight kiss from any girl that I went out with. I suppose that if I had been offered anything else, I would have run a mile. I think we were all too scared of getting into trouble, which is really a good thing. It’s a pity that the modern kids aren’t like that now, there wouldn’t be so many unmarried mothers.

I think that all the inexperience of life when you get married lets you enjoy the great adventure together. My wife Betty and myself had many laughs when reminiscing about the early days.

When Betty and I were married, we lived with the Poole’s in Church Street, Llangollen. Betty never used to drink alcohol. One night we went with Dad and Mam to the Cambrian, in Berwyn Street. Betty only had a half ­pint of cider, but when we got to Poole’s house, she was quite tipsy. We had to go through their front room to go upstairs to our rooms. She asked me to keep hold of her whilst we negotiated their room. Anyway we managed to get through without any incidents.

One day, Betty said she would make some pickled herrings, so Alma her sister came around to enjoy them with us. I only took one bite of the herrings, and thought my mouth was a flame-thrower. She had put all the spice in, instead of just a pinch.

Another day she had polished under the mats in the hall. When I walked in (it had been snowing outside) what with the polished floor and the wet boots I slid straight across the hall, which led to the stairs leading to the basement. I just managed to grab the bannisters to stop my self from going down!

I must say though that Betty turned out to be a good cook, housewife and Mother, even though we had both started off by knowing very little.

Once when I was courting Betty, Les Lewis, who was also courting a girl from Cefn Mawr, decided one Christmas Day that because there was no public transport, we would ride bikes to Cefn to visit our ladies. Everything went off ok but when we were on our way home riding across the Bridge, we passed the Police Sergeant and a Constable on patrol.

“Good night” they said as we rode past, but then they shouted, “Come here, you buggers, we want you”. We took off like scalded cats on our bikes. When we got to the little bridge, we discovered that my rear light had gone out. That was a heinous crime in those days. We swiftly concealed the bikes under the little bridge and both stood in Babb’s shop doorway talking.

The Police Sergeant and Constable came puffing up and asked us if we had seen a couple of chaps on bikes go past. We replied quite honestly that we hadn’t, because no one had ridden bikes past us that night. Truthful to the end, we were.

I cannot recall anything really outstanding about my school days. I liked school, and I enjoyed learning. I suppose that really I was a bit of a book-worm, like the rest of our family (boring!). I played sport, football and cricket, but was a bit of a weed and not outstanding at anything.

War was declared during my last year (l0 years) at the National School. I remember Mr. Reece Thomas praising my handwriting. I also remember Mr. Griffith going into the Navy. In my first year at the Central School, Mr. Pete Morris went into the Army and Mrs. Davies was made Headmistress. She lived with or was married to a German, who was forcibly interned during the War. I remember her in tears in the street as she said her farewell to him. We thought it was hilarious to see our stern Headteacher in tears.

I never had a Welsh singing voice in school, (which I really would have liked). During Music lessons, Raymond Smith, Dessy Evans and myself were ordered not to sing but to mime the words. We really must have sounded awful.

Ethel Edwards, Phimmy Smith and me used to vie for top place in our Class, and it always seemed to rotate that way. We used to go to the County School once a week for carpentry with Mr. Gittins. He was a stern task­master. We always seemed to be making the usual trays, stools and cutlery boxes. We also used to go once a week ‘to the school gardens along Wrexham Road near to The Woodlands. There we used to grow vegetables to help the War effort. It was all good learning. At harvest time, the top classes used to go and work at local farms, picking potatoes, etc.

Quite a few of local young chaps were called up into the Armed services, a lot of them never to return. Life was tough then. We were lucky in our family, because our elder brother, Harold, who had been one of the first to go, went right through the War and returned safely. He had been in the notorious Dieppe raid and was there in France on D-Day. He was mentioned in despatches twice and was awarded the Oak Leaves. He would never talk about his wartime experiences. His best friend, Alex from the Star Inn was killed. Harold did say once that he had a laugh on the front line when Charley Poole went scampering away shouting he’d got a piece of shrapnel in his backside.

My other brother Gerald as a wireless operator/air gunner in theRoyal Air Force. He was on bombing raids from here and then over Italy and the Middle East. Whilst he was on a troop-ship sailing around the Cape of Good Hope, South Africa, en route to the Far East, he contracted typhoid and was very ill. He was taken ashore and spent many weeks in hospital, before he finally was returned home to this country.

The only war time casualty in our family was my youngest brother, Terry. He was knocked down and killed on the road. It seemed at that time that everyone had to make a sacrifice, and coincidentally, Betty also lost a younger brother also named Terry. He died from pneumonia at about the same age as my brother Terry.

I nearly went into the Army as an Army Apprentice, but chickened out at the very last moment.

We were up to all sorts as kids. We did the usual seasonal pursuits, like scrumping, and nearly getting caught once or twice.

I remember sitting on the little bridge one evening when a jeep drove past with Dai Dick driving. His passenger was a lad with his head covered in blood. I didn’t realise at the time, but was rudely awakened when someone came down Pen-y-Coed to tell us it was my brother Michael, who had come off his bike and did a ‘three-point’ landing on his head. I ran home and told Dad. We both rushed off to the Cottage Hospital but thank God, it was superficial (that’s why he’s a bit of a nutter now - always landed on his head, it was the softest part).

The local gasworks was about 800 yards along the road, and it backed onto the river, the same as our houses. All the old ash from the ovens was tipped down a very steep bank into the river. We used to trek along the river bank from home, then along behind the gasworks. There we used to pick out the best bits of coke to take home for our fire.

It helped no end when our cousin Ronnie Williams went to work in the gasworks. On seeing us down by the river he would throw down some good coal and loads of coke. We were very poor in those days, and were up to any tricks to help the money go a little further. All the fires then were coal and coke fires, no clean-air act in those days. The winter used to have some really thick smoggy nights which hung around for ages in the Dee Valley.

I remember once deciding to cut down this lovely fir tree behind our house. I thought I would get loads of firewood from it. I worked out that I could fell it so it would fall right into our back garden, but alas, the b…dy tree fell the other way towards the river! It went right down the bank and it took me about a month to cut it up and get it back up.

I joined the Army Cadets and found the smallest uniform they had. It would have gone around me twice. Our Uncle Percy (the tailor) helped me and it soon looked respectable. The only firearms we had were wooden rifles. There was just one 0.22 rifle with which we used to practice shooting. We went to Kinmels Park Camp camping once with the Cadets and had loads of fun.

I used to help out at Bailey’s Egg Packing in Church Street at nights testing eggs. The mean old b……..d used to give you about a shilling. My brother Gerald worked for him once before he went into the RAF. I think what decided him to enlist was because riding in a bomber was a damn sight more comfortable than riding in Bailey’s old Dodge van, less dangerous, and the pay was better!

Mam was a wonderful mother. In the evenings whilst we sat around the table playing games she would tell us some fantastic stories, mostly ghostly. By the time she had finished we were all too frightened to go to bed. How she kept us all fed and clothed on the money we had I will never know, but I do know we went short of nothing in the grub stakes.

I think we all appreciated things more than the modern youngsters do. We know what it is to go without. I remember Nellie Ambrose being in a right flap one day because her little girl had knocked her husband Stan’s wireless off the table. When he came home from work, she made herself busy upstairs. Stan shouted up to her, “Nellie, Nellie, what have you done to the wireless?” She replied, “Nothing, why?” Stan replied, “It’s going like a dream. It’s never been as good as this!”

When I used to go poaching down the River Dee with Den Will, he was always very reluctant to get out of bed. So we devised this scheme where he would tie a string around his big toe, and hang the string out of the window. I used to go across into his garden and tug on the string to get him out of bed and it worked, too!

Just along the Vron road from Coed Afon were a row of houses called “Craig-y-Don” where a Mr. Green lived. He was the Transport Engineer for Monsanto, a big chemical firm in Cefn Mawr. I used to think it must be marvellous to have a job as good as that and lo and behold, I later in life found myself in the same situation when I worked for the Wellcome Foundation,

Behind Craig-y-Don on the river bank was an old refuse tip. We all used to dig into it to find buried treasure. We never did find anything very valuable apart from an old coin or two, but it was rumoured that our Uncle George had found some gold sovereigns there. Knowing Uncle George, I bet they were poured straight down his throat in the nearest pub!

My daft brother Michael would spend hours sitting in the branches of an elderberry tree on the tip, pretending he was flying a plane over Germany bombing the s—t out of old Hitler, daft lad!

I remember saving up once and buying 2 pigeons from John Parry Jones at Rock House for a shilling, a lot of money in those days. I made a kit from an old tea chest and some wire netting. I nested the two birds down for the night. When I got up next morning lo and behold, there were no birds, just Den Wills’ cat licking his lips. I tried my best to punish that cat, but never managed to get close enough.

Betty got a job with Chiltonian Biscuits and I went to work with Davies Bros. (Bert’s firm). It was just cutting up sheet metal into various sizes and was very boring. When Betty saw an advertisement for re-training and rehabilitation in motor-mechanics she persuaded me to go, saying we would manage on the money whilst I was training. She was a real brick and was so very sensible. She knew how I loved messing about with motors.

I took the motor-mechanics course and passed out with flying colours together with another smashing bloke named Jack Smithers who I met on the course. We were really hard-up whilst on the course, and we used to club together to buy 5 fags.

Another of the chaps on the course was called “Basher”, an ex-boxer. I got on really well with him. He had a Welsh girl­friend, I think that’s why he liked me. Basher lived in Camberwell. He would often be absent from the course. He told me he was a get-away driver for a gang and would often come in with roll of money afterwards and treat us. He used to smoke rolled cigarettes which smelled awful. He said they were herbal but in later years, I came to realise they must have been cannabis. He was a great laugh.

One night he took three of us to the theatre in Camberwell, and it turned out to be a strip show. All these chaps were dashing to get in the front seats. As someone moved out of a front seat there was such a dash to get the seat, it was quite a laugh.

On the course, I had one of the most satisfying experiences ever. Mr.House, the Course Tutor, said to Jack and myself, “You two clever clogs go over there and see if you can get that V8 engine started, no one has yet!” Anyway, Jack and I went over to it and started checking everything out. I noticed that the twin caps of the distributor seemed to have the segments lining up with the rotor arms.

We searched all the boxes of motor spares and found two more distributor caps which were identical on the outside to the two caps fitted to the engine, but on the inside of them, they were entirely different. We fitted these other two caps to the engine. We filled it up with petrol and went over to Mr. House and asked him if he would like to be present at the first run of his problem V8 engine. He told us to, “B……Off, and don’t waste my time!”

We eventually persuaded him to come over to the V8. He called the rest of the Class across, I suppose he thought he would have the last laugh in the end. Anyway, at the touch of the starter button the engine roared into life, as sweet as a nut. Fair play, Mr. House congratulated us. When we told him what the problem had been, he was amazed and said one always suspected the most difficult things and it usually turned out to be the simplest thing in the end.

Towards the end of the course Jack and myself were sent out to look for employment. We had a sort of wander around, happened to wander past Penfold’s Garage in Lee Green and called in to enquire about work. The Service Manager, Sam Snelling (an ex-Major from the Army, a strict but fair person), said yes, he would take us on and could we start right away. We started work there on the following Monday, that was in August 1953. When we started, they wanted one person to work on cars, and one to work on trucks. We tossed a coin, and I went to work on cars. I didn’t mind because I liked working on any type of vehicle.

They were a smashing bunch of blokes working there and proved to be very helpful to us novices. I was very enthusiastic over every job that I was given and if there was a shortage of work on cars, I used to go and help out on the truck side.

Shortly afterwards, Betty and I moved out of Alys and Bert’s houseand found two rooms in Greenwich. Betty got a job with Sainsbury’s at Blackfriars. She liked that job very much and the pay was good.

I was then offered another position at Penfold's working with the Sales Department, to set up a fitting section to prepare all the new cars and trucks. I also had to overhaul all the part-exchanged vehicles. This proved to be great and I got experience with different types and makes of vehicles.

We then got the chance of a flat in Lee Green. We got everything ready to move but on the very day of moving, we got to the flat and found it to be in a terrible state. It was really too bad to move into.

Charlie, who worked with me, invited us to go and live with him and his wife Glad, whilst I sorted out the flat. We moved in with them and I used to go to the flat each evening to clean it up and decorate. Eventually we got it sorted out, and moved in.

In April 1959 our first son, Stephen, was born. With it only being a one-bedroomed flat, we decided we would look for a house to buy. At that time it wasn’t easy to get a mortgage. The best we could afford was a house at Princes Road in Dartford.

We moved there to Princes Road in October 1959. We found it was a struggle to live with only one wage coming in, but I got plenty of overtime to eke things out.

My mate Charlie and his wife Gladys moved to live in Bracknell. Betty’s Auntie Pat and Uncle Neil, with their son, Michael, moved to Welwyn Garden City. It proved to be a good time, as they would come over for the weekends, and vice versa.

We started going on annual holidays together, and we all fell in love with Bee Sands in South Devon, which had caravans right on the beach. Our second son, Christopher, was born in 1964 and we all had some super holidays in Devon and in South Wales.

Betty’s Auntie Pat’s son Michael went to college in Brighton and ended up teaching. He was in Tunbridge Wells at one time. The school took three minibuses across Spain to Andorra. He took our son Stephen with him. From then on, Stephen had separate holidays, such as skiing and youth hostelling.

Betty always wanted to go abroad to warmer climes, but I was a bit of a stick in the mud. In the end I relented because Betty always felt the cold, and I decided it was only fair to try somewhere warmer than our country.

Our first holiday abroad was in Majorca in October, just Betty, Christopher and myself. By this time, Stephen had gone to Warwick University, my how time flies. When we arrived in Majorca, it was pouring with rain, but the weather improved more every day, and we all loved it.

Our second holiday the following year was a self-catering one in Javea. There was Betty, Christopher, Betty’s sister Alma, and her husband Bill and myself. This took place in August, and boy, was it hot. It was absolutely smashing. We were all of us in the sea every day. It was really good to see Betty in the water, as it was always too cold for swimming in our country for her to brave but a brief paddle in the sea.

That was the start of many holidays that we had abroad. Bill, Alma, Betty and myself went on quite a few holidays together. It was great the way we always got on together. Bill was always so pleased with everything and would get very excited. He also made friends very easily with people that we met.

Whilst I was at Penfold’s, Mr Saxby, the Sales Manager, called me into his office one day. He introduced me to a chap called Mr. Duval (a thick set man with camelhair coat and smoking a big cigar). Mr. Saxby said to me, “Mr. Duval has bought six used cars and is getting them picked up late in the day. Get the lads to make sure they are OK to go”.

I got a couple of the lads and we sorted out the cars. Later on that day, this big limo turned up, and these three fellows got out. They all looked like bodyguards. They jumped into the cars, and drove off. About an hour later, the same thing happened.

About three days later, Mr. Saxby called me and a couple of salesmen to go with him to Mr. Duval’s place up by the Elephant and Castle to get the cars back because Mr. Duval’s cheque had bounced. I did not fancy this at all after seeing the size of Mr. Duval’s blokes. I thought that when we got there I would stand well back, but I need not have worried, because on our arrival, the yard was all locked up, and looked empty.

Another incident I remember was when a chap brought his coach in for a thorough overhaul. He was going overland to emigrate to Australia. He was taking load of people with him, all of whom had given him their money up front. He kept coming in for this and that to be fitted. When it was nearly ready, he came in one evening when there was only a skeleton staff on, and said he would like to test drive it. He took it out, and no one ever saw him again. Not even the people who had booked to go with him.

One of the chaps that I worked with was Tom Watson. He had a son-in-law who was in charge of the staff at the Mansion House, the Lord Mayor’s residence. Every year, the retiring Lord Mayor would give the staff a dinner and dance at the Mansion House. Each member of staff had a table to which he could invite guests. We were lucky enough to be invited to go for a few years in a row – real ‘la-de-da’. You were announced at the door as you arrived and you had to shake hands with the Lord Mayor and then get a glass of sherry. You then went to your designated table and had loads of food and drink.

Our house in Princes Road Dartford backed onto that of our local Member of Parliament Mr.Sydney Irving. He lived there with his wife and family. They were very nice people. When his daughter got married they had the ceremony in the Houses of Parliament, at Westminster Palace. It was great driving into the Palace in the old Vauxhall, and have the copper saluting you on the way in. We went into the Crypt Chapel for the ceremony then went onto to the reception, which was held on the front overlooking the Thames with all the flunkies attending us. They were coming around with trays of champagne. Harold Wilson and quite of few of the M.Ps were there.

When I later drove home, I was doing a bit of a zigzag as I drove, but you could do that then before they brought in the breath testing. At that time you never realised how silly it was to drink and drive.

About 1969 the car trade got quiet, so at Penfold’s we looked for something else. At that time, there was a shortage of trucks. Four of us on the Staff decided to start a Daf Lorry Agency. We went over to Holland to get all the information. We started a Daf Section at the works in Lee Green, but we soon outgrew ourselves.

We found a temporary site at Sidcup. There we built up a good dealership and established a good reputation. These premises proved to be inadequate. The bosses kept promising to find something more suitable, but this promise was never kept.

At that time Wellcome, the pharmaceutics manufacturer in Dartford, had decided to start their own delivery service and were buying Daf trucks. One day I was a bit fed up and said, “I think I'll go and get another job”. The manager from Wellcome happened to be standing there, and he said to me, “Do you mean that?” So I said, “Why?” He said, “Well, if you are going to leave here, you'll be just the right chap to come and look after our fleet”.

That’s how I went to work at Wellcome in the first place. So it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

Wellcome was a good place to work. It was all starting from scratch with a brand new garage and myself and another chap named Peter Moadly got it all up and running tick-tock.

It was nice to be working locally and with plenty of overtime, we soon got our mortgage paid off and topped up my pension which at Penfold's was non-existent.

Betty, Stephen and Christopher all came to work at Wellcome at various stages.