Splott In The Early 60s

A Memory of Splott.

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 and put up with the bigotry of the nuns and the almost totally female (and single) staff. It only improved after I was 16 and realised that education was everything - and at last I learned how to wash my neck properly!! We had three little house shops near to us, and my mother was an expert on 'acquiring' those Fray Bentos tin pies. I'm so sorry about that but we hardly had anything to eat in those days. I used to look after a little girl with Spina Bifida who lived next door. Her name was Caroline and she used to wait outside her door for me as I came home from school. She was beautiful. Our street backed onto Elaine Street and every now and again a wood lorry would come and dump its leftovers on the square in between the streets - there used to be such a free for all for that wood. There also used to be a private bookies near Menelaus Street, where my father would place his Saturday bets - always signing them Eddie, then later my older brother signing his Teddie. I think it was illegal back then. We used to go and play on the train at Splott Park - I think its name was Jessie, but can't really remember. I do remember Lynn Davies, the Olympic long jumper, teaching at Willows High school in Tremorfa. Once, when I was about 13, I went on my bike to Splott Road, where there was a very cheap butchers. I think it was off Splott Road, perhaps where the Maindee pub was but anyway I had to buy a dozen eggs and about 10 burgers (which I think were fairly new then). On the way back down Splott Road, a man washing his Morris Minor opened his offside door and I went absolutely flying over the top - smash went the eggs, splurge went the burgers - my leg was mangled and my front wheel was buckled beyond repair. I got taken in to get my leg cleaned up - but the woman of the house left my eggs and burgers and sent me on my way to explain to my mother what had happened. That wouldn't happen today. We didn't even complain. I believe we all had to leave the bottom end of Splott because of all the terrible dust coming over from Guest Keen Nettlefolds - sometimes white, then red, black. It was obviously toxic. They gave the families on the other side of Enid Street compensation (sometimes up to 900 - which was enormous in those days) and many of them were given houses in Rumney on a new estate. People like us in the council houses were relocated and we moved to Llandaff North - a real step up for us. My family has been dogged with health problems ever since - I have lost a brother and a sister before their 60th birthday - another brother of a massive stroke when he was only 55, leaving only 3 out of a family of 7 children. Good days in Splott were playing 2 balls, cricket, baseball, relays around the block and the pantomime, where I was in the chorus which was choreographed by my friend Kath Maunder's mum. Also Clark's pies which I still long for to this day. Bad days were the priests, the nuns, the poverty and ignorance and bliss was making something of yourself but never forgetting your roots.