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Penylan
Penylan maps
Historic maps of Penylan and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis. View all Penylan maps
Penylan photos
We have no photos of Penylan, although we do have photos of these nearby places:
Rumney| Cardiff| Llandaff| Rhiwbina| Llandough| Radyr| Tongwynlais| Penarth| St Fagans| Dinas Powys| Taffs Well| Wenvoe| Caerphilly| Bassaleg| Allt-Yr-Yn
Penylan area books
Displaying 1 of 3 books about Penylan and the local area. View all books for this area
You can read extracts and browse photos from these books.
Memories of Penylan
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South Glamorgan memories
Days Gone by
I remember Splott, I grew up there, and my brother still lives there.
We were growing up very poor and scruffy, same as all the kids, one difference though, we were the Black Dixons. The other difference was we were not Catholic, so belonging to a small church showed us life beyond Splott.
But I can remeber some good times too, playing hopscotch, skipping, two balls, rat-a-ta ginger. Going to Splott Park with jam sandwiches and Corporation Pop (water), playing in the bombed houses daring each other to do dangerous things, going over the tide fields, and playing with the bombed planes, and picking blackberries. I never went on any of the street trips though, they were always on a Sunday, and one time I nearly went, because it was on a Wednesday, but the organisers gave our seats to a family of 'white children' instead. And all those people who called us names, who thought because they were white they were better than us, have achieved very little... Read more
Splott in The Early 60's
I spent 8 years in Splott, in Enid Street, off Portmanmoor Road. Like the first contributor, we were really poor, perhaps poorer than most, and we got picked on for that. I agree with Lavinia though. Our first black family came to live in Enid Street, and our parents all told us to ignore them - although they were clean and tidy, and much more religious than many of the Catholics on our street. They had to keep themselves to themselves, and it was the so called 'grown ups' who instilled this racism into us - we couldn't care what colour anyone was - if they could run, play baseball, rat-a-tat ginger, or help with penny for the guy then they could play with us! My family went to St Albans school, and I was lucky enough to pass my 11 plus and go to Heathfield House - although that was tough for me as it was hard for me to find the proper uniform... Read more
Old Splott Boy
I grew up in Splott, went to St Albans then Splott Road High. My dad had a hardware shop in Carlile Stret opposite Orsolinis the grocers. In 1970 we moved to Llanishen. In 1974 I moved back to Splott but boy how it had changed, the old school had gone, most of my mates had moved, Clive Cusack, Booty, Derek Price, Paul Wootton, we used to hang around outside St Saviour's Hall listening to bands and recall the good times we had in school and the jobs we would get, in Willows High our new school Bob Ord our careers master lined me up for Pickfords removals, 5 pounds a week office boy, got the job but had to sign Official Secrets Act, lost the job. We had lovely teachers in St Albans, Mr Reddy, Mr Harrington, and in Splott Mr Owen, Mr Vincent, Mr Ord. We had good and bad times but I remember mostly the good... Janet's Pantry, 6 pence a pasty, trainspotting in Railway Street, marching to... Read more
My First Boyfrield Was From Splott
My first boyfriend was John Hawkins, he lived in Splott. My name was Christine Morris then and I lived in no 8 Rossily Road, Rumney with my aunty Eunice Lloyd and my cousin Dennice. I loved living down there. I used to go to Splott with John to his house, does anyone remember his family? His sister married someone called Peter from Rumney, I can't think of his surname but he lived near the school. We all used to go to the Capital cinema and to the dance hall that was on the same road (only right at the end) on a Saturday night. Christine
Portmanmore Road 1964 Part One
My name was Lynette Evans I’d just like to say hi to everyone that has shared memories of Splott. I remember so much, so clearly, I was barely 3 years old when I moved from Llanharran to Portmanmore Road. It was a supermarket directly opposite the fish & chip shop owned by Greeks. I'd like to pay my respect to a family that can't write their own memories; maybe this will jog somebody’s memory. In 1964, before we moved into the supermarket, another family had lived there. Sadly the family were gassed to death in their sleep. From what I recall, it was a mother, her infant-daughter and son as well as I think the grandmother. The father was working nights when the tragedy occurred. The mother of the children was a twin. I think it was only two weeks after the tragedy that my family and I moved into the large supermarket; never ending floorboards, and a high wide windowsill. We lived at the backend of the shop. As... Read more
Portmanmore Road 1964 Part Two
My dad was from Bridgend and my mother was from Llanharran. In 1961 soon after they’d got together, I was conceived, they left the valley's and moved in with my Nan, Maureen Payne / Pobihem, and Step Grampy, Polish partner John Pobihem along with my aunties Janice, Sandra, Sonia and Uncle Peter; my Nan was pregnant with my Uncle Mark. My Nan was better known to us as Bigmam; I didn’t know she was my Nan until I was 8 years old; she was always Bigmam. At the time they owned a Butcher Shop in Portmanmore Road, a couple of blocks up from the Fish & Chip shop owned by the Greeks.
Nan gave birth to my uncle Mark Pobihem in Glossip Terrace Hospital in February of 1962, and then I was born in Glossip Terrace Hospital in April 1962. Obviously there was no room in their tiny flat. I remember dad telling me how he rented an old disused Fire Station in the Cardiff Dock and transformed... Read more
Portmanmore Road Splott 1964 to 1965 Part Three
I really remember the fish & chip shop, the stuffed alligator; kids were scared of it apart from me. I also recall how nasty that short Greek woman from the fish & chip shop was.
One early memory I recall isn’t only an unquestionable horror, but also a total mystery. I trailed my mother as she carried my younger sister through the empty supermarket. We paused on the bus stop directly outside our front door and waited to cross the busy Portmanmor Road to get to the bus stop opposite the fish & chip shop.
While mam kept my sister safe in her arms, I uncomplainingly leant against the large fish & chip shop window; excited about my forthcoming ride on a big red bus. I quietly observed heavy traffic zoom passed, feeling each rushing backlash of wind. After waiting quite a while, a big red ‘Double Decker’ bus halted like a tank, it released a loud gushing sound on its... Read more
