"It was early 1940 and we stood at the crossroads at a very strange place called Caerwedros. My brother John was sent to Aunty Hetty Jones, Pont Bren Mill, Cross Inn. This particular mill is now in the St. Fagins Museum, Cardiff, having been taken stone by stone and re erected. I spent many hours playing in that mill.
Coming out of the mill wall and driven by the rotating water wheel was a revolving spindle, on the end of which was a large sandstone grinding stone used for sharpening tools etc. The local carpenter by the name of Ben Morgan was sharpening some tools assisted by my brother by pouring water on to the stone for him. My brother's shorts got caught up on the end of the spindle and took him around and aroundcausing lot of damage to his thigh.
He spent quite a lot of time recovering from that at Tan-y-bwlch. Poor Mr Ben Morgan in his efforts to help him received severe damage to his arm to the extent if I can remember correctly of an amputation. So you can see that it was not always fun at the mill.
I was sent to Pendre, Llwyndafydd, into the loving arms of a childless couple, who to me seemed quite old. Their names were John and Margaret James and I became unashamedly their son. I thank God to this day for their loving care. They are both in Heaven without fail.
We attended the Secondary School at Caerwedros, under the so-called care, of an English teacher by the name of Miss Wokenforth. She was sent out from Liverpool. She did not last long and soon returned to Liverpool. They sent us another replacement teacher but she succumbed to the charm of a Welsh suitor and left to get married.
There was no other option left so we were inducted into the Welsh classes, with Headmaster Mr Williams, and fought bitterly at times with the boys but learnt the best language of the lot - Welsh. How lovely it sounds when spoken by a local of the area. I said "fought at times", which was quite true as Egryn Jones was after the same girl I was, Elzeter Evans, God rest her soul as I later learnt she had died at an early age.
Our footwear for school were clogs. These were made for us by the local cobbler, Mr Bamford. They had wooden soles which he carved out after measuring our feet, leather uppers and metal tips just like horseshoes. These often needed repairing and the usual cry went up, "Can I have some new tips Mr Bamford, please".
He has only recently died but on my last visit he presented me with a decorated pair to bring home. I get so sad when the people of the village pass on, as it is hard to realise that they were young adults whilst we were young children.
Pendre, where I lived, was only a small farm of some 10 acres, a couple of cows, a pig and plenty of chickens. A big event was when the butcher arrived to kill the pig. Plenty of blood and squealing I can tell you. I always got the pig's bladder, blew it up and used it as a football.
The pig was then cut up salted and then all the pieces for want of a better word were hung from the ceiling on hooks in the kitchen. What a sight, one had only to lift a haunch down and slice it as per need. This of course went with the fresh eggs and home made butter. How I loved to turn the churn, let the air out, churn again and watched the cream becoming butter. Patted with two wooden pats with a design on them. The buttermilk then went to the new pig.
Talking about butter, my music teacher at Caerwedros was always on the cadge for my butter, shop ration. We always gave it to her so I was quite popular with Miss Jones. She made sure I knew the songs we were learning, in Welsh of course.
We did not have tap water but at the bottom of the fields we had a small spring well only about 18 inches deep and we had to put lime in it to keep it pure. We used to ladle it into the metal jugs we had and then fill the urns with it.
For hot water we filled a small tank attached to the fireplace, the oven was on the opposite side. Then a happy event occurred, I can not recall how we had the water connected but certainly remember walking with Mrs James to Cross Inn - a fair way for my little legs - and returning with two full lengths of ½ inch copper pipe on our shoulders. What a funny pair we must have looked.
What about when we took the cow to the bull. Mr James put the head harness on the cow and we used to walk about 3 miles there and 3 miles back. I trotted behind and gave it a little bit of encouragement. Of course I didn't have a clue what it was all about. Just watched in amazement. I was not allowed to go down the village too often, as I wasn't to get into trouble. It was very important to maintain a good character."
