Great Somerford

So cool inside.

The house on the left used to be occupied by whom I called Auntie Eve and Uncle Jack.  I never knew their surnames, and they were not real relatives, but close family freinds. They had a daughter, Diana, with whom I fell base over apex in love. The house had very thick walls I remember and was so cool in summer. It was eventually pulled down and rebuilt to almost the same design.

Not always good to be taller.

I attended this school, on and off during the war years as my father Bill Morgan, was frequently posted around the country, and I would end up with my grandparents, the Eldridges who lived at West House. My teacher was a Mrs Greenaway, who lived a bit further along in the picture, and always put me at the front of the line for our exercise period as I was the tallest ("E's gonna be 6 foot y'know"). This meant that whenever I was at the front I couldn't see what everyone else was doing and always got it wrong. Someone was always bleating out, "Please Miss, Keith Morgans not doing it right!" Nonetheless I loved that school. Just opposite was a cottage that housed the Brind family, and Julie Brind was always telling on me, but told everyone she was going to marry me one day ... I was only six.

Had to go back.

The building to the right of the picture was one of only two shops in the village. From there, whilst waiting outside for my mother who was shopping in there I shot an arrow from my home-made bow straight up. It came down and hit the roof of a car parked outside the pub. All I got by way of reprimand was an "OI!" from the owner. There were so few cars about during the war and I had to dent the only one in the village!
My mother Jessica Morgan and my Dad, Bill Morgan, were regulars in the pub, and in 1959, when I was in the RAF, she made me wear my uniform to show off to the regulars, who bought me a few pints. I went back with my daughter on Father's Day 2007 and I mentioned to the staff that I had last been there when I was 18 years old. They were not impressed. I noticed on the wall a photo of local men taken during the war in presumably Home Guard uniform, and five of them were fathers of kids I used to play with. I felt most strange in the pub, as though old aquaintances were with me. In fact two strange things did happen whilst we were there.

The view from a Volunteer Pub garden bench. 16TH JUNE

The most important bench I have had the privelage of sitting on one lunchtime on June 16th 2008 and the view of the Cross Roads. Over a diet coke and an Orange juice I met the best friend I have ever known. The Volunteer Pub, The pub garden bench and the slight view of the Cross Roads will linger with me for ever. That day at 12.15pm was the first time I had been in that village but it is now like a city in my heart. Had many a great meal there since.