I had a lovely early childhood. My da was the signalman at Nine Mile Point No.2 box. As a railway man we had a company house, which is now Sirhowy Valley country park offices).

Back then to get to us you either had to walk down the line from Wattsville, or up a track from Crosskeys.

It was a difficult life. Everything had to be carried in as there was no vehicle access. Our water was out of the mountain stream, sewage was a septic tank, and as for a TV signal - forget it. Even radio waves struggled!

Once a month the health man came. He checked the water and sometimes baited traps for rats.

Our front patch was a railled square, with the railway to one side and a long drop to the river side on the other side.

This one day the health man came and went off, or so mam thought. She set about cleaning the fire and as usual tipped over the ashes down to the river.

Some time later the health man came to the door, covered from head to toe in ashes. "The traps are baited, Mrs Jones," was all he said and he turned and left.

Mam couldn't say anything for strugling to stifle laughter. She had tipped the ashes on him, thinking he'd already left! He had a long walk back to his vehicle, puffing ashes as he went.

Don't think he ever came back!

Merlin Astley-Jones - Taihape, New Zealand - 2006