Brynmawr, the Bus Station c1965

My hometown

Brynmawr is a quiet little town on the edge of the valley roads. These photos bring back memories of all the hills I climbed, picnics on the mountain, paddling in the pond across from our house in Warwick Road. Snow 6ft deep in Winter. I remember the old steam train passing our house, I would wave to the driver and he would wave back to me standing on a low wooden fence. Everything was at a slow pace in the 50's. We would go to the local cinema and see mainly westerns in those days. Then come out and get a bag of chips and wander back home, just simple easygoing things.   

Special times

Once the time had come for blackberry picking and whimberry picking, my lovely Uncle Fred took us down the valley roads, to get picking, ready for those lovely pies my grandmother would make. We would climb up beside these waterfalls, drink the pure water from them, lovely. Uncle Fred would walk for what seemed to me miles, me eating most of my pickings as I went. This was the early 50s, a lovely day out, lovely scenery, lovely memories. With thanks to my Uncle Fred Bedford, a lovely, loving man.

My home from 1947 - 1969

I was born here in Newton Green and lived in the house just visible on the left - the last one. It was called Cotswold. The village shop was run by Mark Wilson and that could be him in the photograph, tinkering with the car - he did anything for anybody and was a much loved character until he died unexpectedly. Opposite the shop was the village green which was also the 9 hole golf course where we grew up and played. My friends and I used to ride our bikes in and out of the dotted lines on the road racing cars and causing mild mayhem. Myself and two other boys managed to set fire to the golf course one summer, burning a large proportion of the gorse bushes!
It was a normal event to be cut off by snow for a few days each year when all the village would be out on the green and the frozen ponds and on one memorable day even the vicar - Reverand Ensor - skated on the pond by the Saracen's Head!
My brother still lives there. The shop has gone, along with the petrol pumps where I filled up my car for 5/6 a gallon in the 1960s! These days I wouldn't want to even try to cross the road due to the volume of traffic that now flows through the once peaceful place which was my home for 22 years.