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Trelleck
Trelleck maps
Historic maps of Trelleck and the local area, hand-drawn by Ordnance Survey and Samuel Lewis. View all Trelleck maps
Trelleck area books
Displaying 1 of 3 books about Trelleck and the local area. View all books for this area
You can read extracts and browse photos from these books.
Memories of Trelleck
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Gwent memories
Morris Family, The Gristmill, Whitebrook
My father Eddie Morris was last of of 7 children who lived in the Gristmill. Even aged 70, he was still hugged & referred to as Baby Brother. (Ron, Tom, Jack, Jim, Trudy, Grace, Eddie). Story is that his father was an alchoholic and would remove and threaten the children with his leather belt when drunk.....no proof that he actually used it. Story is that he was harsh to his wife, although this is unclear as she appears to have been a very strong dominatrix which perhaps itself contributed to his drinking. She, my grandmother is an enigma. Whatever. His children gave huge respect to alcohol in their later years, socially drinking, but always afraid of its potential devastation. A story I would like to share is that as a child Dad used to catch the train from Whitebrook to Monmouth for school. He & his brothers often returned home pleading "sorry Mum, can't go to school, we missed the train". After a few... Read more
Love at First Sight
He's got exactly the same photo, and I remember standing watching him take it as the sun shone through the ruins and thinking to myself I'm not sure which I love more, him or the Abbeys we visit together. Tintern will always feel like our special place.
The Place of my Ancestors
I found out that my great-grandmother was born at Tintern, she came with her parents to Warrington in 1870. Warrington was a big name in Wire and so was Tintern, that is the link. We first visited Tintern in 2003 and fell in love with it and the area. My ancestors were all bBaptised, married and buried at St Mary's, Chapel Hill, with the exception of my greatgreat-grandparents who married at St Michael's, Tintern. One of my ancestors was registered in the 1841 Census as 'living at the Abbey', history has it that people built shacks up against the Abbey walls. She was 87, a grand age. It is the most magical place and together with the Wye Valley and the Forest of Dean it is like paradise on earth. A very special place for myself and my late husband.
My Dad in The Mill
My dad Albert Joseph Harris and mum Brenda Mary used the mill as a machine shop, manufacturing small parts for Morris, Frances Barnett, Triumph, Norton and others. We lived in Redbrook in the now guest house on the corner of Coleford Hill and the A466, the house's name was/is Inglewood, the date above is aproximate. Isn't it shame you haven't got an old picture of Inglewood. My earliest is about 1956. Regards, Roger
School Days.
My husband Stan went to Hendre, it is now a golf course. He told us he went to school in a mansion house owned by Rolls Royce family. Fab grounds etc. My son William took us to see it. Stan went there because he would not go to school. Going from Caerau to there would have been a culture shock.
Round House
My Father Henry (Jim) Griffiths lived with his eight brothers and sisters in the Round house, which I think was up the ally next to the Postoffice. His mother was Alice Griffiths, she brought up all these children on her own. I wonder if anyone has a photo of the round house?
Raglan - Castle Street
My childhood memories of Raglan are indelible in my mind. I lived with my Aunt and Uncle (Bessie and Ernie Morgan) at No 3 Castle Street during the war years. I well remember my first day at school, sitting on the obelisk at the junction of Chepstow Road, being chased by the geese down the Chepstow Road, 'helping' my uncle pump the organ, the harvest festivals, Roy Silverthorne's voice resounding around the church, sergeant Needs and his alsation, the brook, the castle, the wonderful smell of Mrs Hook's and the Powells bakery, Rhwylas farm, which is totally responsible for my love of dairy farming (although I was born 17 miles out of London). So it was through Rhwylas farm that I find myself in Australia, via New Zealand ...but that's another story. By the way, I never made it as a farmer! Wonderful, wonderful memories.
