Days Gone By

A Memory of Splott.

I remember Splott, I grew up there, and my brother still lives there.
We were growing up very poor  and scruffy, same as all the kids, one difference though, we were the Black Dixons. The other difference was we were not Catholic, so belonging to a small church showed us life beyond Splott.
But I can remeber some good times too, playing hopscotch, skipping, two balls, rat-a-ta ginger. Going to Splott Park with jam sandwiches and Corporation Pop (water), playing in the bombed houses daring each other to do dangerous things, going over the tide fields, and playing with the bombed planes, and picking blackberries. I never went on any of the street trips though, they were always on a Sunday, and one time I nearly went, because it was on a Wednesday, but the organisers gave our seats to a family of 'white children' instead. And all those people who called us names, who thought because they were white they were better than us, have achieved very little in life. At 64 years old, I have nursing qualifications which have taken me around the world. All our family have achieved  good positions in our work. So Splott has mixed memories for me.