The 1950's

I'm Mike Jones, now in St Andrews. the home of Golf, It was great to see some of the names that made the Youth team. Roy Davies (last heard in Rugby) Peter Richardson, Cyril Parsons ( my time at Abertillery Tech) No Gravo??, Michael Gallaghan, yes Penybont,(also Abertillery Male Voice Choir one Sat afternoon) Cary Austin, Roy Harris, Alf Z. Dia Nash. Coronation St Abertillery Just a few, but what memories it brings back. If any one reads this about these days. What about the Rolling Mill then the Market Hall?. Another name comes to mind Tommy Farr!!
Have a wee dram and drop a line on the E Mail I'd love it. Maybe some of the girls of the era !!! Who knows?. The Wednesday night Sixpenny dance at the Scouts Hut Six Bells .and Pennybont. Life was simple then eh?.

Cock and chick school

Does anyone know how the school got its name?
My Mother went to this school in the late 30's early 40's and has a photo of herself and class mate. Will try and get the photo scanned and posted in the mean time does anyone remember Maureen Roberts from around this time? Will pass on any messages.

The mountain is so called due to the presence of chicken sheds before the school was built upon their site. thus both the mountain, and then the school, were named after the first "activity" on the mountain, I thank you!!

Cock and Chick School got its name from, a pub above Cock and Chick school. The right name being the Rising Sun, this pub was kept for many years by a father and daughter who were characters in the community, hence the nick name of the pub was called the 'Cock and Chick'. The pub was open very early in the morning when the miners from Blaina and Bourneville walked over the mountain to the Cwmtillery pit, they would very often call in and have a pint before going to work.

If you talk to the custodians in the Museum in Abertillery they will give you all the info you require. Basically it was the first school in the area to be mixed. Hence cock and chick.

Valley Thoughts

I don't know how many of your readers or contributors who are in their 60s have recollections of Cwmtillery and Abertillery in the late forties, fifties and 60s of the games they played, or of the people that lived around them, and moments that stand out in their memory. I would try to provide an example when I say I remember the first time the Gaslights were turned on after the war and blackout restrictions lifted. The anticipation of waiting for that one night when you would actually be able to see when it was dark. It was unbearable, and when we were informed the lights were coming back, the days seemed to drag, until that exciting evening when we waited at the end of Bryn Morgan Terrace beside the Gas- lamp post, an imposing cast iron structure pointing towards the stars, that was normally used for tying ropes on to use as a swing, with adults and children eyes straining for the gas man to come and light the mantle. Eventually he arrived, lit the light and we were bathed in the first artificial street that many of us had ever seen. But we were not the only ones that were waiting for the gaslights, the others being the moths. Not just a few, but hundreds of them, probably more than ever you would see today, I always put it down that there was no insecticide to kill them in those early days, and that one light seemed to attract every moth between Llanhilleth and Brynmawr. Perhaps there are other people that remember quite insignificant events in the broad sense, but important in the context of understanding life at that time.
Mike Callaghan

Valley Thoughts

I don't know how many of your readers or contributors who are in their 60s have recollections of Cwmtillery and Abertillery in the late forties, fifties and 60s of the games they played, or of the people that lived around them, and moments that stand out in their memory. I would try to provide an example when I say I remember the first time the Gaslights were turned on after the war and blackout restrictions lifted. The anticipation of waiting for that one night when you would actually be able to see when it was dark. It was unbearable, and when we were informed the lights were coming back, the days seemed to drag, until that exciting evening when we waited at the end of Bryn Morgan Terrace beside the Gas- lamp post, an imposing cast iron structure pointing towards the stars, that was normally used for tying ropes on to use as a swing, with adults and children eyes straining for the gas man to come and light the mantle. Eventually he arrived, lit the light and we were bathed in the first artificial street that many of us had ever seen. But we were not the only ones that were waiting for the gaslights, the others being the moths. Not just a few, but hundreds of them, probably more than ever you would see today, I always put it down that there was no insecticide to kill them in those early days, and that one light seemed to attract every moth between Llanhilleth and Brynmawr. Perhaps there are other people that remember quite insignificant events in the broad sense, but important in the context of understanding life at that time.
Mike Callaghan

Family impact

With the pit head baths being a luxury later on in the valleys history, lack of washing facilities made life very difficult for both the working man and families. Living closer to the washery than the pit head baths, many workers used to come straight up the path that led to Gwern Berthi Road.
The day shift usually arrived home about 2.15 ish, with all the kettles and big saucepans on the fire place, boiling up ready for when the workers arrived. First they would take their jackets off out in the back yard and bang a fair bit of the coal dust out before coming indoors. Then they washed their hands under the tap (cold I might add), before moving on to a bowl full of nice hot water to wash face and head, then working over the upper part of the torso. While this was going on the lady of the house would be tipping all the hot water into the tin bath. After that, every one moved out of the kitchen, while the bathing routine was completed. If you were out of the house during this last part, OUT you stayed till it was all over, and if you were in another part of the house and needed to get through the kitchen, well hard luck you were stuck there till you could heard the water being tipped down the out side drain. Then we all knew it was safe to move about the house again. After the bath it was time for dinner and a well deserved smoke and snooze in the old armchair in the corner, while pretending to be reading the newspaper.
Life was very hard for everyone. Apart from making ends meet, the every-day chores were heavy. Lifting those kettles and saucepans of hot water was no easy job for the strongest of persons, nor lifting the bath down from its hook on the wall in the back yard. There was a lot of pride in having everything ready for the workers to come home to, appreciating the really hard shift that had been put in and just how tired they would be. You were lucky if it was only one that came home in need of a bath as, in some homes, there was more than one man coming home black, as stories were regularly heard of Dad in the water first and sons following in order of age. Pity the youngest then!
When the bath and dinner routine was over it was usually off to town to put the order in to the good old CO-OP. The main weekly order would be delivered up from town, but for the top- ups during the week it was off down to Church Street to bring the bits and bobs back on Collier's or Jones' bus. There were always corner shops for little things that just didn't stretch out the week, like Eddie Price's shop and Annie Hiley's at the top of Hill Street, close to the Mount Pleasant pub. When, and if, you were lucky to get odd coppers of pocket money, you would try all the local shops for whatever you could buy, (in the ration years you had to search the shops further afield), but something could usually be found in Jukes's or Knock's shops or any of the other little places that abounded in the area.
There were lots of clubs around. There was a ladies sewing circle up in a green tin hut on the left hand side just before you got to the South Wales Inn. The ladies would meet once or twice a week and sew and knit items to send to the local soldiers who were away fighting the Germans. The blokes had a variety of things to get up to: pigeon clubs and cage bird clubs, to say nothing of the rugby and skittles. Then there were all the summer evening walks up around the lakes, stopping at a pub or club on the way home for crisps and lemonade for Mam and children outside, of course, while Dad popped in for a pint. Most people got through with the simple pleasures in a life of hard work where it was always a struggle to keep things bright, shiny and clean.
At the time of the depression life was a really hard struggle in the valley. Everyone pulled together, warning each other when the "means test" man was on his way around. Wedding rings and candlesticks would be hidden, as they were expected to pawn or sell any item of value before they would be given a note to buy groceries. Men would go out to pick coal off the tips to use to warm the house and provide fuel for the oven to cook with. They would be prosecuted if they were caught.

Working in the collieries

Training
A day in the life of a trainee miner aged 14 years, the year 1947 ( I.M.J)
By 7am we descended into the shaft cage to pit bottom at a depth of 300yds, it was very windy and black. We began the long walk to pit face and my place of working for that shift. On arrival, my butty unlocked the tools and gave me my shovel, sledge and mandrill. A pony brought an empty tram to our place and my job was to fill the tram with coal which my butty shovelled from the 3ft thick coal face to me. At 10am we ate our food and 20 minutes later we resumed the back-breaking work. Each tram when full held approx 30 cwts of coal and I filled 5 per shift. At 1.30pm we put the tools away and walked back to the pit bottom, exhausted and black from the coal dust. It was 2.30pm before we saw our first view of daylight and we were glad to enter the pit head baths for a wash and brush up before the trip home, but tomorrow it would all start again at 7am

Tools
There was great variation in mining names for the same tool, this would depending on which pit you worked in our local area. In Roseheyworth the name for a hoist was a pull lift or yales, there was a release on the tool for tightening or slackening. The usual name in Roseheywoth being "Paul". A fitter from Beynons colliery, discovered that he had his fingers caught above the tool, and we were tightening causing him great pain. To which he kept screaming "change the mickey". As we did not know what a Mickey was we continued to tighten, the result of which increased the pressure on his fingers. Actually finding his screams of "change the mickey" quite funny. When we finally realised what he meant and released him his words were oh thank you very much chaps or something like that!

Sylvester
When extracting coal, (History - Geology midway down page "Extracting coal") wooden props are used to support the roof from the working coal seam, to a point far behind the working miners and convey belt. As work progresses into the seam, further props are erected, but the props behind the miners also have to be removed and the roof made to collapses (frighten thought). The SYVESTER is a ratchet type manual machine which would be anchored on the one side to a safe point and the other end anchored to the prop which is to be removed, the distance from point to point being approx 15 feet. The worker would then crank the syvester and pull out the old prop, thus causing the roof collapse, I bit like a manual winch. Using this machine meant no person should be in the vicinity of the prop being removed thus making a safe prop removal. I don't know what method was used in your case but that's what a syvester is.

Pit Ponies (G.H.)
I would start work earlier than the rest, because it was my job to prepare the pit ponies ready for the shift. There where 3 stables in those days, all at pit bottom, mine held 8 ponies, each having its own enclosure with collar and tackle hanging on the wall. Having first fitted the collar and tackle, the ponies food bag would be hung around its neck, where it would stay until feeding time. The ponies would pull up to 3 empty trams into special sidings near pit face. There they would stay until required. The filled trams would be pulled away from the face by pony and by rope and motor to pit bottom. The commands used for directing the ponies were "gun on", " turn right, "come here", " turn left, "come here back", " turn around. At the end of the shift the ponies would be returned to their stables for clean up and feeding. These ponies worked under ground for 50 weeks per year, their holiday was 2 weeks in the fields above the lower lakes, before returning for another 50 week work period.

Pit ponies finshed in the early 70s that is all ponies except 3 came out of the colliery for the last time. A few ended up at local farms but most went to Abergavenny market to be sold. I would like to think they all ended up on farms also, but I don't know. The 3 ponies which remained, transferred to the Rose and were used underground to salvage any equipment needed from Cwmtillery. When the Rose closed these 3 went to the local farm on the old blaina road


Saying
A word that has changed through the last decade or at least in this part of Wales The word "bonked" The time to start the shift at Roseheyworth was governed by the hooter. On the day shift at 6.30 am. At this time all the men were expected to have drawn their lamp from the lamp room and be ready to go down the pit. After this time the lamp room would be locked and you would be stated as bonked, the cry would go up to the pithead baths hurry up they are bonking in the lamp room. (A frightening thought with today’s meaning) If you wanted to go to work you had to seek permission from management to enter the lamp room if this was refused you had no choice but to go home after changing back into your clean clothes with no pay for that day so with today’s meaning in mind you were well and truly bonked.

When the mines such as Cwmtillery Colliery and Six Bells closed what was done with all the mining equipment and machinery that was underground?
When Cwmtillery closed a small amount of equipment transferred the Rose, the rest just left. When the Rose closed a few years later, every piece of underground equipment was just abandoned where it was last used. 26 miles of tunnels, Haulage Engines, Electric motors, miles of rail track, ropeways and conveyer belting, and I've been told (by a reliable source) 40 trams were left on the rail and full of coal. Between Cwmtillery and Roseheyworth equipment that remained underground, probably now in flooded tunnels, would total hundreds of millions of pounds. Surface equipment was sold as scrap to anyone that put in a bid, the rest buried. Think of all that history still in the depth of the valleys


Just imagine what a find this will all be for a "Time Team" of the future. I was fascinated by the episode where they were looking for the viaduct near the old pits and iron works over at Blaenavon. Having since been to a lecture given by Mick Aston and chatted with him about this "dig" he admitted that they had almost given up when they had to dig to such a depth. I wonder if they will ever devolp survey and digging machinery, or even raise the funds, to mount such a dig in the name of history? I just hope that my spirit will be around to watch them if it ever happens.

West Bank Area

The lower Baileys, located on the West Bank side of the Cwmtillery Colliery, were rows of houses built below the road level, around the 1850's. Access to all three blocks was via steep, but wide, stone steps. It was a strange feeling walking up the Baileys, passing each door identical to the next, apart from the house number. High walls on one side, houses on the other. Opposite the front doors and built under the West Bank pavement were the coal houses, one per house with a manhole in the pavement above, which allowed ease of coal deliveries. Iron railings ran the length of West Bank as a safety precaution.
Outside the back of the houses, steps led to the garden and the washing line, which always seemed to be full of clothes blowing in the breeze, blowing among the coal dust and steam filled air, generated by the Colliery.
Inside, the houses were small. As you walked inside, on your left was a food cupboard and to the right a very small living room. The kitchens were narrow, just room for a small table and two chairs, with a sink unit at one end and an armchair by the window at the other. Upstairs were two small bedrooms, but no toilet, that was in a building outside the back door, but it did have a wooden seat. (Luxury!)
When the pit hooter marked the end of the shift, the miners could be seen wearily walking up the garden path towards the back door. Block of wood under arm (one block per day being a perk of the job), black from head to toe with coal dust, whites of their eyes like torch lamps in the dark and of course the distinctive flat cap. Up the steps, passing the hook on the outside wall which, 1 hour ago, would have had the tin bath hanging from it. Standing on the back doorway, as much clothing as possible would be removed, but still keeping ones modesty, before entering into the kitchen, and the steaming bath tub in front of the fire.
Leisure time seemed to be taken up with, mostly, walking, gardening, pigeons and visiting the local ale house, usually the South Wales Inn or Cwmtillery Workingmens club.
If you thought the valley was full of smoke, then a refreshing drink at one of the ale houses was an experience! Thick smoke, the strong smell of the hops used in the beer and the banter as darts, cards and dominoes were contested, were all part of the community spirit.
Gardens, not flower gardens, but gardens in which vegetables would be grown, both for the table and selling on. If you couldn't eat or sell it, it had no place here.
Pigeon cotes could be seen on the mountain side and back gardens all around the valley. There was one all on its own which looked down on West Bank It was there for years, with its distinctive old wooden box for a seat outside, on which miners would spend hours talking about the days events while their pigeons gracefully filled the air with their formation flying.
With the end of the colliery era and demolition work now started, this would mark the end of the west bank houses. Replaced after 130 years,on the colliery side of the road with landscaping and hundreds of bushes and scrubs. On the opposite side the houses were rebuilt, rebuilt and looking out on to the old colliery site, now turning ever greener, as each season passes by.