You are here: Home > Explore your past > Wales > Menai Bridge > Menai Bridge > Photographs > Suspension Bridge 1913
Menai Bridge, Suspension Bridge 1913
Menai Bridge, Suspension Bridge 1913 Ref: 65693
Memories of Menai Bridge, Suspension Bridge
Be the first to add a memory of Menai Bridge, Suspension Bridge
Menai Bridge & local memories
Read and share memories of Menai Bridge and Gwynedd inspired by Frith photos
 Menai Bridge, Suspension Bridge 1890 (ref: 23187t) |
Year: 1930s
My Childhood memories of Menai Bridge
My father was born in Talwrn near Llangefni and each year we would go by train to Liverpool and then go to the pier head and board St Tudno which sailed at 10 30 am, dropping people off about 12 in Llandidno then onto Menai Bridge, where we arrived around 2pm. We always looked to see who could see Menai Bridge first, and passing by Bango Pier we knew that my grandparents would be waiting for us with the horse and wagon, then the first stop was to my Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom in Llanfair PG who had a big spread waiting for us [he was a mail man in Llanfair PG]. Across the road from my aunt's was a big rock which we used to climb up with our cousins while the relatives enjoyed the reunion, afterwards we got back onto the wagon and Polly the horse trotted off to Talwrn, which I seem to remember was about 8 miles, it was a long day and we were all tired. The next morning after breakfast we would run down the lane to see Uncle Will and Aunty Maggie and our cousins and play around a stream that ran through their farm. Last edited: 09/05/2008 11:30 by Trevor Williams |
 Add your own Memory
 Read/Post Comments[0 so far]  Add to your Album
|
|
Caernarvonshire & Anglesey Hospital A memory of Bangor, Gwynedd I remember doing my nurse training in this hospital 1967-70, it was a beautiful old building, now I believe it is a supermarket, oh dear!!! I wonder is there anyone out there who did training at the same hospital,I am so surprised to see no one has left a memory of Bangor. Last edited: 25/02/2008 09:38 by Delphine Chapple |
|
|
Add your own Memory
Read/Post Comments[0 so far] Add to your Album
|
|
Memories of a happy childhood A memory of Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, Gwynedd I was born and grew up in the little village of Llanfairpwll. Mine was a happy childhood, free of drugs, vandalism and graffiti. Everyone knew everyone in the village, which in those days, over 60 years ago, was predominantly Welsh. We were taught in Welsh at the Infants School. Until one sunny afternoon, the excited English voices of evacuees from the English cities of the North were heard. Each home in the village was allotted their share of these children. The war had come to Llanfairpwll. Very soon afterwards, all the trees in the Column Woods were cut down and hauled away, to be used in the war effort. The grand old house, Plas Llanfair was commandeered for barracks for Army personnel. First came a Welsh regiment. These were followed by a Scottish Regiment, the Lovett Scouts. Their pipe band marching through the village streets were a sight to behold, and it was the very first time I heard bagpipes playing. When the Scots departed, the Yanks moved in. I had never before seen African Americans, or Jeeps, or had doughnuts and chewing gum. But we soon got accustomed to seeing the Americans going about their daily business. Not too many people will know that at this time, the great Brown Bomber, Joe Louis visited the troops at Plas Llanfair to give an exhibition. I think that the Yanks must have taken their leave just before D-Day. My memories of the war were not that unpleasant. We had rationing and gas masks, but the war was never a reality for me as a young boy. Until one night, a German bomber discarded its unused cargo of bombs over the village. The only real casualty was No 8 Maen Afon, which was totally demolished. The other houses were intact and a canary in its cage survived. The other bombs in the stick fell into fields surrounding the village. One fell behind the railway station. The railway station, famous for the long name set up along the platform, played a big part in my growing up. As a young boy, it was from here that we used to catch the Sunday School Trip train to one of the nearby seaside towns, such as Rhyl or Colwyn Bay. It was a very eventful day in our young lives, and we went on this trip annually. I was later to work on the Station as a Junior Booking Clerk, a very happy time in my life. I was surrounded by older workmates who taught me and teased me endlessly. They were all characters in their own right, and I remember them fondly. Names that come to mind are William (Information) Williams, a Porter, who knew a little about everything. There was Will Goods and Will Davies who ran the Goods Yard from what is now the Cafe and Souvenir Shop. The Station House was occupied by the Station Master and his family. This gentleman was always immaculately dressed and always appeared to me as a miniature Welsh Guardsman. All this changed for me early one morning in April 1953. This is the day that I turned round to wave to my mother and father before turning the corner at Miss Owen's shop. Case in hand, I was on my way to the Station to catch a train to Wrexham. It was the end of childhood, a happy one for me. I had been conscripted into the Royal Air Force to do my National Service. I left Llanfairpwll that day with a mixed feeling of sadness and anticipation. In the years to follow, I was to further enlist in the Royal Navy, get married and have a family. I was never to settle back in Wales and my village home. I have lived in Australia for over three decades. It has never felt like home. Home will always be that little Welsh village. It is where my best and sweetest memories stem from. It is where my parents were born, and where they lived out their lives. Home is the little slateroofed house into which my parents moved on their wedding night, and from which my mother moved to another kind of home in the village. She had lived in her little house for over 70 years and had brought her five sons into the world there. She died very recently at 99 years of age. What a host of memories she would have had. During my short and rare visits to Llanfairpwll, I am struck by the many changes that have taken place over the years. It has grown and many of the quaint little cottages have been extended and covered in pebble dash. They in turn have been surrounded by larger and more modern houses. The little green fields, where I romped as a boy, have been taken over by fancy named housing estates. Welsh is still largely spoken, but English can be also heard in the streets and shops. I know very few people that I meet . For an ageing man, an exile, with only precious childhood memories of the place, the changes I see have not improved my village home, which was always perfect. But I consider myself extremely fortunate. I can go away and only retain the memories of Llanfairpwll that I had as a boy, where I lived among careing, kind people. I go away with memories of a happy childhood. Last edited: 17/04/2007 09:10 by Glynne Parry |
|
|
Add your own Memory
Read/Post Comments[0 so far] Add to your Album
|
 Beaumaris, West End 1904 (ref: 53029) |
Names of the people in photograph A memory of Beaumaris, Gwynedd The men on the wall are (looking from left to right) Charles Matthews William Matthews Sydney Matthews (Charles's son who died quite young.) The little girl in the background was a Miss Jones who lived at No 1 West End. Posted: 06/04/2006 11:14 by Mr Dm Owen |
|
Add your own Memory
Read/Post Comments[0 so far] Add to your Album
|
|
Year: 1969
MERCHED Y BRYNIAU. A memory of Pentraeth, Gwynedd Another Pentraeth Memory. by Ross Davies Just about 38 years ago, I was approached by some of my former pupils, who were now mostly married and with children of their own, with the idea of forming a Pentraeth based entertainment group. The village had always had an excellent reputation for choral singing and they wanted to revive the tradition, but on much more modern lines. Such an enterprise would give them all a focus to aim for, to enjoy, and to give good entertainment value. They wanted me to weld them together into an acceptable group. My protests about not being able to play an instrument, read music, or act as choirmaster, went unheeded. That did not matter at all. Most of them had good voices and an ear for harmony, so they would monitor themselves, and learn as they went along. All they wanted from me was the ability to discipline and organise. So, - "Merched Y Bryniau", was born. At the final count, the group consisted of over forty ladies ranging from thirty to over sixty years with a mixture of mums, daughters, and a couple of grans, all eager to make a success of the whole project. Fortunately, somebody found a wonderful pianist, who could play anything asked of him. His name was Hefin Hughes, from the village of Pensarn, and he is remembered with affection and respect because he was the lynchpin of the group. The range of their programme was very ambitious stretching from Welsh traditional songs to Welsh pop, English favourites, ancient and modern, South American collections, Sea Shanties, etc. The list was endless, but all interspersed by solos, duets and comedy spots. At one stage they even experimented with a skiffle band complete with washboards. Invitations to perform at various venues began to roll in. Most were very enjoyable but some places did present certain hazards. One such occured at Llanddona Village Hall. The hall was filled with everybody settling down to enjoy the entertainment. Merched Y Bryniau were opening the evening with a collection of South American songs, starting with the "Banana Boat Song". The ladies were looking as authentic as possible in the best South American style and each member carried a basket of bananas on their heads. No sooner had they reached the first chorus, the lights went out and plunged everyone into total darkness. A panic stricken whisper reached me at the side of the stage, "What shall we do, Mrs Davies?". "Stay exactly where you are", I ordered. "Put your baskets on the stage beside you. The lights will be back, oh in no time". Half an hour passed by before they did and in the meantime, we heard strange scuffles, wafts of moving air, and stifled giggles around us in the darkness. When the lights finally came on, they showed empty baskets on the stage, and the children in the first two rows of the audience, polishing off the last of the bananas. Another time, at the old hall in Newborough, just as the group were launching into a lively Welsh chorus, the whole stage dropped two inches under their feet. To give them their due, they kept their nerve and no one screamed, but the whole evening had to be abruptly terminated. Old age and woodworm in the hall had won the day. The newly formed skiffle band had it's brief moment of glory, headed by a baton wielding bandmaster. This lady, shall be nameless, but she was well known as a joker in Pentraeth. Merched Y Bryniau were invited to entertain at a social evening in a large chapel room in Upper Bangor. They received a warm welcome and the audience thoroughly enjoyed the evening. The final item on the programme was the skiffle band. Unknown to the rest of us, the bandmaster had dressed up in a full clown regalia,- bushy red wig, two feet long shoes, a red nose, and a pair of baggy check trousers held up by red braces. She was an instant hit with the audience. The band performed well and as they reached a final crashing crescendo, under the waving baton, she purposely dropped the baggy pants around her ankles and revealed a pair of red and white striped boxer shorts underneath. The cheers from the audience hit the roof, and she was delighted that her joke had worked so well. Later, we were all offered a very welcome supper. However, in the middle of eating, I was approached by a grim looking gentleman wanting to know if I was responsible for this dreadful group. When I replied that I was, he launched into a tirade about the amount of smut shown in television these days and now he was having to put up with it in his own chapel hall as well. We should be thoroughly ashamed of ourselves. Looking around, I could not see a single person that shared his sentiment but I did go home that night suitably chastened. The lady offender in question, also got thoroughly told off for going too far, as usual, by her mother, who was also a member of Merched Y Bryniau and a performer in the skiffle band. She had laughed as heartily as anyone while it was all going on. Happy days. Perhaps an ex-member of Merched Y Bryniau would also like to add a memory of her own. Last edited: 08/08/2007 10:16 by James Griffiths |
|
|
Add your own Memory
Read/Post Comments[0 so far] Add to your Album
|