Pit Village

A Memory of Trethomas.

Born in Machen, moved to Thomastown as war began, my parents opened a shop at 7 Newport Rd. and sold fish and chips there until long after I became a physician, and found a specialist career in hospitals in S Wales, and then the Miidlands.
In the many years of exile, regret that separation from a past so well remembered and so inspired by the best of neighbour and local worthy has been increasingly felt. However, what was can not be set in stone for indulgence in less frantic years as dotage descends, but would it not be fine if those one knew were still remembering too?
The great plant and colliery I once saw from my bedroom have gone, and the huge steam cloud at such regular intervals as the coke was cooled will not be seen again: are all others I knew gone too?