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.
Year: 1953Special 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.