Some of my yesterdays

This is where it all happened - although it wasn't quite as built up when I was doing my thing. Red dots and circles indicate some of the places mentioned.

Having had a far longer past than I will a future (sad but true), it's inevitable that, every now and again, I'll reflect on the seven plus decades I've got behind me. For the most part, the reminiscences of my childhood are still vivid. Like most of us of a certain age, I can probably recollect with far more accuracy that which happened in my early days than the events of more recent times. At least, I think the clarity is still there - or is there a touch of self-delusion? Who can possibly know? But I do not view yesteryear through rose-tinted spectacles: there is nostalgia, of course, but no sentimentality. It was the way it was and that's how we accepted it.

In two previous posts, I've touched on various part-time jobs I had in my youth (here and here) and, just to test my memory, I thought I'd try and jot down all those jobs I could remember. I've surprised myself at the list and it's been fun revisiting the people and places involved. I consider myself extremely lucky to have had all those experiences: I wouldn't have missed a minute of them. Here they are:

Football Argus Paper round The very first Saturday job I can remember was delivering a few Football Argus's in the late afternoon around the streets and pubs of Bedwas. I was 8 or 9 at the time and did get a few 'coppers for sweets'. I'm not sure how long this lasted but, at this distance, I'd guess for the length of the football season. 

Butchers' Boy: Off and on for a couple of years before I left Bedwas Junior Mixed, I had a Saturday job at Morgan's the Butcher in Church Street. As well as taking orders out on an old-fashioned shop bike with a basket, I helped make sausages, faggots and black puddings (getting blood for which in a bucket from the slaughterhouse behind Lewis's). And sweeping up the sawdust from the floor and cleaning down the counters.

Delivery boy/packer: During the summer of 1959, just before I went to Bassaleg Grammar School, I had a job at the Home and Colonial Store in Caerphilly. My Aunty Phyll got me the job and it was a mixture of bike deliveries and helping with packing various goods (dried peas, currants, raisins etc) from tubs into smaller packets. Pushing a heavily laden delivery bike up the Mountain Road in Caerphilly was not an easy thing to do and I can still remember feeling affronted that one customer did not even say "thank you" after I'd obviously struggled up the hill with her groceries. One day I'll tell about the Pea Magnet Saga and the Great Penrheol Delivery Boy Kidnap Incident. I still bear the mental scars from both.

Exactly the type of bike I used for deliveries. No gears, brakes only on the front wheel and a less-than-comfortable leather saddle. And let's not forget the wicker basket at the front.

Various jobs on farms: Like most of my contemporaries, I don't remember ever getting regular pocket money from my parents and, if we wanted some cash, we had to earn it. Hence we offered our services to whoever needed a (cheap) pair of hands. In reality, this meant one of the many small farms around Bedwas and Rudry. We'd do anything if there was a few coppers at the end of it and we laboured in the fields picking vegetables (my worst ever experience was picking potatoes in the cold and wet on Ty Sign Farm), helping with animals, milking, harvesting apples, hay making, picking stones from the fields - anything at all and in all weathers. 

Milk round with Mr Lewis: I've dealt with my time on the milk round with Mr Lewis at length previously (here) and, if you are interested, I will refer you to that post.

Milk round with John Davies: When Mr Lewis sold his round, due to ill-health, it was taken over by David Davies (Dai Dai the Milk) and I briefly worked with him. But I soon moved on to help his son, John, on his round that took in Rudry, Draethen, Lower Machen and Machen proper. I really enjoyed this time as the route was very rural and took us around some fantastic countryside. Sitting on the back of a van in the fresh air and racing around the lanes - what's not to like?  It was during our Sunday break for breakfast that I first encountered the Archers and poached eggs with HP sauce! I still like them both.

Sunday paper round: I did this for about three years when I was in the Sixth Form. It involved an early start (6am, sometimes a killer after a raucous Saturday night out in the pubs and at the Palais in Caerphilly. Confession time: I was an underage drinker, as were all of my 'gang'), picking up a trolley load of papers from Mr Jones' Paper Shop in Bedwas and then delivering them around some streets in Trethomas. I can still remember the route: Pant Glas View, Central Buildings, Bryn-y-Fran Avenue, Birch Grove, Elm Grove, Ash Grove and Hazel Grove. When I 'retired',  my brother and my elder sister inherited the round: the nearest we've ever got to having a family business.

Working on a farm at Cefn Mably: This was a mixed arable/dairy farm called Cefn-llywd, owned by George Huish and run by his son, Roger. I was there for a full summer holiday and some weekends. I enjoyed it as the work was varied - milking the dairy herd of friesans, tending to sheep and pigs, hedging, tractor driving, hay making etc. However, what I didn't like was the fact that it was 10 miles from home and involved negotiating many hills on an antiquated push-bike with only three gears. On the positive side, I can still remember the taste of the wild strawberries I used to pick as I pushed my bike up a hill near the Maenllwyd Inn in Rudry.

Working at the British Legion, Trethomas: For a year or two, around 1964/1965, I worked behind the bar at the British Legion in Trethomas when George and Alma were the stewards. Almost invariably, my good friend, Malcolm from Rhiwderin (who never did get the hang of playing Bingo), was on the same shift so it was never dull. It was the days of pounds, shillings and pence and I was very adept at adding up orders for multiple drinks. I'm not sure I could do that now. Certainly not at the British Legion as it's been demolished for quite a while.

Working on the Bedwas and Machen Urban District Council: When university students living in Bedwas or Trethomas were looking for jobs during the summer holidays, there were a few 'usual' places that took us on. One of these was the 'council' - the now defunct Bedwas and Machen Urban District Council. I spent the summer of 1966 working for them and got to grips with the full panoply of services offered by the council. Some of the things I got involved with were grave digging, laying kerbstones and paving slabs, collecting rubbish, repairing drains, replacing broken window panes, cleaning buses and acting as a labourer for a stone mason. The latter was an old communist called Dick Jones who was a fascinating character. He was part of the Socialist contingent that fought in the Spanish Civil War against Franco and had spend many years in the 1930's travelling around the USA. I really enjoyed both hearing about his exploits and helping him build a bus shelter in Machen, that is still standing after 52 years. I always metaphorically salute Dick every time I pass it.

The old offices of Bedwas and Machen Urban District Council. The yard I worked from was to the right. The JP's courtroom was on the left and that was the scene of the infamous 'Air Gun Trial', where several youthful miscreants were subjected to a mock trial by the then JP, Kenwyn Lewis. But that's a story for another day - possibly, maybe.

Working on the Xmas Post: Another of the 'usual' places for hiring students was the Post Office over the Xmas period, dealing with the 'Xmas rush' of cards. I started doing this in 1966 and continued through 1967 and 1968. We were there for about a week each session. The days started with sorting out the mail into rounds and then going out delivering around Bedwas and Trethomas. For a couple of years, I was assigned what was known as the 'Mountain round' which involved delivering mail to all the farms and houses on Bedwas mountain. It was quite an onerous task, walking, perhaps, 5 - 6 miles with a heavy postbag, sometimes on lanes, sometimes on tracks and sometimes on shortcuts across fields. But it was money and it helped offset the overdraft I had accrued during the previous term. A happy time with a great bunch of regular postmen, all uniformly sarcastic and cynical! 

BOCM, Bassaleg: I'd almost forgotten this one. Labouring at British Oil and Cake Mills near Bassaleg railway station. I was only there filling in for a few weeks and the work entailed watching over milling, rolling and pelleting machines and a bag filler. Nothing too onerous and I can still recall the noise and the dust. The pay was rubbish.

Working up the Plant: Or to give it its formal name British Benzol and Coal Distillation Co. Ltd. At one time, this was THE place for students to work in the summer holidays. The Plant comprised of a series of coking ovens and an associated 'by-products' complex that recovered various chemicals from the gases produced in forming the coke. It was shift work and students helped out wherever a pair of hands was needed. I worked there for two summers (1967 and 1968) and, on one shift or another, was involved in most of the areas. Sometimes I worked on the ovens where the coal was burnt to form the coke. Sometimes I worked over on the by-products, mainly doing quality control checks on some of the processes and bagging chemicals as they were formed. Sometimes I worked hosing red hot coke down with water. Sometimes I worked on routine maintenance - greasing conveyor belts and clearing up spillages. A bit of everything really. I enjoyed working on the ovens more than anything else as it was quite exciting and moderately dangerous, with so much hot coke around. Every now and again, I'd work a 'doubler' - two shifts back to back. In theory, this meant a 16 hour working day but, in practice, the foreman allowed you to slope off early on the second shift. The money was good and I can remember the thrill of getting £20 in my pay packet when I had done a doubler. And it was in a pay packet - a brown envelope that we picked up at the cashiers' office on a Friday lunchtime. It was a great place to work and, someday, I might elaborate on some of the things that happened on some of the shifts.

A couple of photographs taken with my old Zenith E SLR camera and processed by me. The shady figure is me on the top of the ovens when crushed coal was being poured into the open oven from the mobile hoppers. The brush was used to make certain that it all went in. The flames were an occupational hazard.

All the coal is now in the oven and the lids are being pushed back on. It was hot work and we had to wear wooden clogs as ordinary boots tended to melt in the heat! On more than one occasion the bottom of my trousers caught fire - another occupational hazard. Training? Minimal. Health and Safety? Almost non-existent.

Working at the Alcan, Rogerstone: Alcan Industries were based in a large works along the banks of the Ebbw River in Rogerstone and produced aluminium sheets etc from ingots. I worked there for the summer of 1969. Shift work again and students were employed to fill in wherever needed during staff holidays. I remember that, at the students' induction day, we were told not to be 'political' with the regular workers. I got involved in a wide variety of tasks - stretching aluminium sheets on a large machine, 'helping' fitters and turners with lathe work, carrying tools for mechanics as they repaired machines, working with a thermal lance to unblock the doors on the remelt furnaces etc. It was in the days when long hair for men was still a novelty and I have a vivid memory of running the gauntlet of ribald women on a packing line. Men do not have the monopoly on crude remarks or suggestive gestures! I blush as I recall what they shouted at me! It scarred me for life.

Working in the Family Loaf bakery: This was, in fact, the last temporary job I had as an undergraduate student, as after it I moved into the heady world of being a post-graduate. The bakery was on the Wern Estate in Rogerstone and involved working night shifts during September 1969. Forget the artisan baker, this was bread making on an industrial scale using the much-derided Chorleywood Process. I sweated between the proving and baking ovens, knocked cooked loaves out of their tins and operated a slicing machine. It was hot work but well paid. On some shifts, 'proper' bakers made us fruit loaves and other fancies to take home - all 'under the counter', of course, but ignored by the management. A perk of the job.

All these jobs helped me to develop skills that didn’t get taught in school, such as how to fake a smile (useful) or get on with someone difficult (a vital life skill). I learnt about the tedium of menial work and the ghastliness of some people, but also the value of physical labour and the camaraderie of work. I met some amazing people and learnt that wisdom and intelligence were not the preserve of the formally educated. Away from the critical gaze of my family, I got a taste of independence, responsibility and a sense of self-worth that I hadn’t known before. And along the way, I picked up a range of skills that have stood me in good stead over the years. I learnt that a bit of graft and getting your hands dirty won't kill you and how to just get on with it without complaining. Life lessons that I'll always remember with fondness and not just a little pride: I did all that and survived.