Childhood Memories

A Memory of Llanfarian.

These memories have been contributed by Myra Greer.

In 1947, when I was 7, my mother and I moved from Salisbury in Wiltshire where my father was stationed at RAF Boscombe Down, to near Llanfarian, where my grandparents had settled. My grandfather, William, was badly crippled by rheumatoid arthritis. Because of his illness they had had to sell up their lovely home in Shipston-on-Stour, Warwickshire during the early part of WW2. No disability living allowance, carers allowance etc.. in those days! They got an inflated price for their home because of the demand of Birmingham business people moving out from the bombing of the city by Hitler's Luftwaffe. With it they bought ground on the A485 between Llanfarian and Llanilar and built Oak Villa, a Canadian cedarwood bungalow complete with veranda situated overlooking the Ystwyth Valley and the fields of Alt Mai - Dai Morgan's Farm.
There was no electricity or running water, just a pump in the scullery which brought water up from a spring well in the front garden. A small bungalow was erected at the bottom of my grandparent's field primarily for my mother and me as my father was still in the RAF. It didn't have electricity either and water was brought down by bucket from the 'big bungalow'. In both bungalows life revolved around the range for cooking, heating and hot water. Lighting was by Aladdin Oil and Tilly lamps. My grandfather had a motorised wicker work bath chair and before he became completely incapacitated we travelled the hills and valleys with me jammed in the 'pointy bit' at the front between his feet. Two rather grand old ladies, who lived close to what we called 'Figure Four', the crossroads on the way to Llanfarian, had a pony and trap and when they came to call I had a ride with them on their homeward journey. I was taken into their greenhouse to be given small bunchlets of grapes cut with a special pair of silver grape scissors. I remember being most impressed by the chinz curtains behind every door and the padded loops hanging on the handles to prevent the doors from slamming. Also at Figure Four was Mrs Pugh's (I think her name was) grocery shop. She had a Chow dog with a black tongue which I was frightened of, he always seemed very cross. Every year the gypsies came and set up camp on a wide verge a short distance away. I had to pass them everyday on my walk to Alt-Mai for milk and although I had no reason to be so, I was frightened of them too.
I looked forward to the 'road man' coming twice a year. He looked after the roadside hedges and ditches and showed me where all the birds and small rodent nests were. And I remember the annual battle my grandmother had with the roads department, who dumped several tonnes of quarry stones on another sweeping verge adjoining our bungalows. At that time stones were steamrollered into hot tar to maintain roads. Grandmother's gripe was that they created great swirls of dust, but I loved to climb the great heap and got told off because they cut my shoes. Because of this, grandmother refused to pay her rates and was taken to court and ordered to pay 1 shilling a week which she took into the council's offices... and demanded a receipt be posted back each time!
As a reward for passing the 11+ an old sit-up and beg bicycle was rescued from a ram shackled carriage shed which had come with the grounds. It was renovated and my mother taught me to ride, it gave me even more freedom to explore. I got to know Gracie Morris, the sister of Alt Mai's farm labourer, who lived in a house just up the lane from the farmhouse. I remember being asked to pick raspberries from their garden and eating them all, and not a word of recrimination from the gentle Gracie. She never could cut bread straight (it was long before the days of sliced bread) and although I wasn't much better, I was always assigned this task. She gave me a little welsh woman pepper pot which I still have on display today.
But my greatest joy was the Lodge gate cottage of Abermad, at that time a boys' preparatory school. It was occupied by the school caretaker and grounds man, Mr Turner, and his delightful, eccentric wife. She rescued all the injured or sick wild animals which she found, or were brought to her. The tiny cottage and yard were packed with cages containing birds, raptors, garden and field: foxes, badgers, rabbits, rats, mice, voles and moles etc. - it smelt awful! It pulsated as you approached. She was a great story teller. More importantly, although I hadn't the wit to see it at that time, she wrote fairy stories. She asked me for all my friend's names and wrote three fairy tale books (Woolworths big 2/6d large black hard-backed ones) using all mine and their names to portray all the various characters.
Ones I remember are:
Doris Lewis - who lived at Aberdovey in a house overlooking the estuary. She had a considerable flair for drawing. She contracted TB which resulted in her having to take a year off school. The entire first years' at Ardwyn School had to be X-rayed; un-noticed I had had my Girl's Crystal, a girls comic, enamel butterfly badged pinned to my gym slip which caused my mother instant panic as I was recalled for a second x-ray.
Dawn Neville - she was extremely pretty with what, even at primary school, we all recognised as sex appeal.
Christine Chapman - she was a policeman's daughter and actually lived in Aberystwyth town which was handy for an after school snack as she was allowed carte blanche to the family larder while I always had to ask permission at home.
Anthea Glover - getting a bike enabled me to cycle the few miles to her house in Pentre-Llyn which was just a row of small houses on the outskirts of Llanilar. Her gracious parents always made me very welcome and after sixty years without ever seeing each other again we still exchange a Christmas letter.
David and John Morgan - the sons at Alt Mai - one a year older, the other a year younger than I. Our favourite games were cricket and galloping about on pretend horses playing cowboys and Indians (very popular at the Saturday morning cinema). I helped a little at hay harvest before the bailer was purchased and even had a calf named after me - my mother was not pleased!
Jeffrey Jones - I think his father owned the jewellers shop in Aber. It was he who nicknamed me 'hieroglyphics' - as it precisely spanned with my name - Myra Griffiths.
The chivalrous Colin Creasey - who always saw to it that I got off the bus at the right place with all my possessions. I seem to remember his telling me that he was related to the popular crime writer John Creasey, creator of The Toff.
To my deepest regret I lent all three of Mrs Turner's fairy books to various friends to read and never got them back.
After a two year posting to Egypt during the British Mandate for Palestine my dad finally left the RAF when I was around ten years old. For short while he worked for Gatty Lewis's farm machinery company then went to work with the GPO on their telephone exchanges. I used to go with him in the little green van and was fascinated by all the whirling's and twirling's of the extensive equipment in the green huts. He lectured part-time at Aber Tech in mechanical and electrical engineering.
In 1953 when I was thirteen we moved to Addlestone in Surrey when my father took up a lecture post at the apprentice school of Vickers Armstrong in Weybridge (now BAE). When I was about sixteen I received a letter from Mrs Turner who was in an Old Folks Home in Wimbledon and to my eternal shame I never replied. The callousness of youth. And as I am now in my 70's it haunts me just how callous that was.