A Life in the Rhondda Valleys
My Mother had eleven
children. Nine of us survived at birth, six
girls and three boys. We lived 11 Pleasant
Road, a two up and two down house at the end
of a terraced row in the Welsh mining village
of Penygraig near Tonypandy, which is in the
Rhondda Valley of South Wales.
My father worked down the
pit for a living, as did the majority of men
in this part of South Wales in those days, he
was an Engineer. I was brought up as a child
during the great depressions, which followed
the First or Great War and during the time of
the national miners strike, (see brief history
of period and the strike on The Rhondda
Tribute Web site).
I have many memories as a
child of these hard times, which I will share
with you as an example of the affect that they
had on the families concerned. I never
questioned the fact that my father knew best.
We as a family had a bad time during the
miners strike, (1926) as did all miners in the
valleys, were there was little alternative
work available. Each family was allowed one
slip of paper per week, which was then worth
ten shillings. This was the same throughout
for all, no matter what the size of the
family. It was spent solely on food, not even
two pence (less than one of today’s decimal
pence), was available for a small packet of
Woodbine cigarettes for Dad!
My mother was a very placid
person, never seemed to make a lot of fuss and
my father, though a small man, was very proud
and it hurt him very much knowing we girls
would have to leave home so young. However, he
knew that we didn’t have very much of a future
in the valleys and therefore we eventually
would have to leave and find one elsewhere.
We children of school age
were better off, because we had some food from
the ‘soup kitchens’ that were set up to feed
us. We had a mug of soup and some bread
mid-day, and before we left school at the end
of the day, tea, bread and jam or sometimes a
slice of cake. Nevertheless, we were always
hungry. My mother always had a large saucepan
on the hob full of stew of one kind or
another. We ate this with home made bread that
my mother made twice a week. My brother and I
would carry, under each arm, tins full of
dough for this bread. We would leave these
tins at the bake house and collect the baked
bread on our way home from school. We often
came home with crusty bread that had fallen
off the sides of the tins. People did not have
ovens big enough for baking bread and so the
baker took in the dough and charged a penny a
loaf. Even Christmas dinners were cooked in
this way at the bake house. All other meals
were cooked on open fires or ‘Dutch Ovens’.
Every home had a bake stone to make Welsh
Cakes, (I still have one).
My father worked down the
pit for a living, as did the majority of men
in this part of South Wales in those days, he
was an Engineer. I was brought up as a child
during the great depressions, which followed
the First or Great War and during the time of
the national miners strike, (see brief history
of period and the strike on The Rhondda
Tribute Web site).
I have many memories as a
child of these hard times, which I will share
with you as an example of the affect that they
had on the families concerned. I never
questioned the fact that my father knew best.
We as a family had a bad time during the
miners strike, (1926) as did all miners in the
valleys, were there was little alternative
work available. Each family was allowed one
slip of paper per week, which was then worth
ten shillings. This was the same throughout
for all, no matter what the size of the
family. It was spent solely on food, not even
two pence (less than one of today’s decimal
pence), was available for a small packet of
Woodbine cigarettes for Dad!
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All we children gathered round to see it go and though and thought of all the fun we had just lost. The next item to go was the sawing machine, things that we could manage without!
My mother was a very placid
person, never seemed to make a lot of fuss and
my father, though a small man, was very proud
and it hurt him very much knowing we girls
would have to leave home so young. However, he
knew that we didn’t have very much of a future
in the valleys and therefore we eventually
would have to leave and find one elsewhere.
We children of school age
were better off, because we had some food from
the ‘soup kitchens’ that were set up to feed
us. We had a mug of soup and some bread
mid-day, and before we left school at the end
of the day, tea, bread and jam or sometimes a
slice of cake. Nevertheless, we were always
hungry. My mother always had a large saucepan
on the hob full of stew of one kind or
another. We ate this with home made bread that
my mother made twice a week. My brother and I
would carry, under each arm, tins full of
dough for this bread. We would leave these
tins at the bake house and collect the baked
bread on our way home from school. We often
came home with crusty bread that had fallen
off the sides of the tins. People did not have
ovens big enough for baking bread and so the
baker took in the dough and charged a penny a
loaf. Even Christmas dinners were cooked in
this way at the bake house. All other meals
were cooked on open fires or ‘Dutch Ovens’.
Every home had a bake stone to make Welsh
Cakes, (I still have one).