I lived on Commercial Road, Aberbeeg with my mam, dad, three brothers and sister a stones throw from Aberbeeg School which I attended when Mr Talbot was headmaster. My local chapel was in Glandawr and has been demolished. I belonged to a Christian group there called The Campainers. Our family never went out of Aberbeeg for holidays exept for the odd trip to Barry with the chapel. So every summer we went to the Dingle a lot with my cousins and aunties. We would pack food, swimming costumes and never took drinks as we would fill our empty carona bottles with the sweet cold spring water that poured out of the mountain. We walked through the square, under the bridge, past Mrs Cook's and Kibbys on towards the dingle. We picked wimberries and bluebells, swam in the reza and splashed about in the stream all day whilst our mam and aunties looked on. At the end of the day when the sun had gone from this lovely valley and was only shining on the tops of the beautiful fir trees, our mam made us tip our jars of tadpoles back in the stream and the older boys had caught trout. I would take my soggy dress that had been tucked in my soggy knickers and reluctantly put on my soggy daps (plimsoles) to wend our way home. I always ate my wimberries walking home. With a purple tounge and lips and my mam saying, "oh Jilly, you look a sight for sore eyes" but I had never been happier. I remember three sisters; Jennifer, Wendy and Angela Butler also the handsome Brian Chivers, they all lived at the Ivorites and Dingle. When I moved to Cheshire and my children were growing up I used to tell them about the dingle.
I wrote a poem years ago which I posted to my mother, she got it published in the local chapel magazine. It was a magical place to me as a child. Even to this day I love to look at trees and admire their beauty. I wonder if any other Aberbeegers feel the same?
A memory shared byon May 6th, 2013.
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