My Beginning...

A Memory of Gilfach Goch.

My name is Russell Ham.

I was born on May the 10th, 1962. I was adopted at about the age of six weeks, I think. The best thing that ever happened to me. I arrived at number 5, Thomas Street, in the summer of 1962, to the home of Gerald and Barbara Ham.  Neither of my parents is alive now. I have the most wonderful memories of the first five years of my life, at 5, Thomas Street, Gilfach Goch. My father's father Enoch Ham, my grandfather, also lived with us.

He was a carpenter, and I would spend hours in the shed with him, rain or shine, watching him work. He built up a little tool box for me, so I could do things as well, when we were both out in the shed. I remember coming down in the mornings and he would be laying and lighting the fire in the living room. He would show me how he laid the paper and stick, to get the fire going. I think of him now, when I am lighting the coal fire, forty-eight years on. He would sit with me for hours, and read to me. He took me for walks every Sunday morning. On Monday mornings, when I came down to breakfast, it was always we two up first, he would cut into tiny pieces some beef from yesterday's roast dinner and put it between pieces of buttered toast and we would share it. He would tip some of his coffee into his saucer to cool, and hold it to my mouth for me to drink.  He was lovely.

Our neighbours were John and June Mort on one side and Stan and Jean Harris and, Don and Brenda Trew on the other. Mrs. Nancy Williams lived almost opposite us, on the corner, with her husband, Godfrey, and son Conway and daughter, Cynthia. The children I would play with, all older than me then, were Keith Warren, Linda Bowen, Sharon Trew, Andrea Davies, David (Dai) Llewelyn, James Ferris, Michelle and Tracey Lewis and others whose names I can't remember, but whose faces I can still see.

My uncle and aunt, Ray and Midge Bartlet had The Dairy - the corner grocery shop on the square, and my grandmother, Eva Ham, had the grocery shop in Hill Street. My great grandmother 'Mam' Bartlet, my uncle Ray's mother, lived in Fern Street.

Lots of names are flooding back to me.

I remember having the biggest crush on Petula Clark, from the moment I heard her sing. From the moment I heard 'Downtown', I believe my life met another crossroads and I was smitten, with both the singer and the song, and music, for the rest of my life. I used to stand on the square, from the age of three, outside what was then the fish and chip shop at the top of Thomas Street, opposite the Dairy, and sing Petula Clark songs, for all I was worth.

My mother told me she quite often would get a phonecall from my uncle at the shop, to tell her I was singing again, and people, who were waiting for the bus, outside the Dairy across the road, were giving me pennies, so she had better come and collect me.

My parents, having lost their first two children at birth were the most wonderful parents. My mother adored children and our house always seemed to be full of them. My birthdays were always great as my mother loved having a housefull.

My father built me a swing in the back yard and a slide that went all the way from the top of the back garden, all the way down the sloping garden, to the bottom. It was brilliant. I spent HOURS on the swing singing at the top of my voice. The poor neighbours. My father would encourage me by standing for ages behind, and pushing me whilst I sang, or laughed, at how high and fast I seemed to go.

He would take me everywhere with him, whenever he could. He was a builder. So, I would go out with him in his van, on different jobs and sit close by and either watch him as he worked, whilst he talked to me all the time, or be entertained by whoever's house we happened to be in. We would walk down to his garage in Beech Street, and he would sit me on his lap, and let me hold the steering wheel with him, as we got the van out.

When my parents occasionally went out on a Saturday night, apparently I wouldn't 'go down'. My father would wrap me in a blanket and put me on the seat of the van, and drive me around the valley. I would have been so young at that time, but I actually remember this. I would be asleep by the time we got back home, ready for the babystitter.

When I was three and a half, my grandmother died - my father's mother, Nana Ham. I do remember her - particularly, for the way she would let me get all her saucepan lids out of the cupboard, so I could spin them on the kitchen floor, at the back of the shop, where she lived. She was lovely.  As a result, Dad got left some money, which he put into building our lovely home, the bungalow Four Winds, just opposite the back of Number 5 Thomas Street, on the hill above. Another crossroads in life.

Soon after we moved in - which was just after my 5th birthday in the May - my sister Kimberley arrived. Things were great for a couple of years and life was lovely.

I was a very lucky little boy. I miss it all so much now - the people, how life was, and what will always be 'home', for me.

Gerald and Barbara, Mam and Dad - God bless you.