Story Summer Time

Summer Time

Summer was now upon us, and time for a holiday. The family hired a caravan in Nottage, a small village near Porthcawl South Wales.
The caravan was quite a distance from the sea, but there was a regular bus service so it wasn't too much of a problem. We were accompanied by my aunt phyllis, and Uncle Tom (who didn't stay in a cabin but hired another caravan next to ours)
They had two foster children Eileen and Roy who were about my age so I had someone to play with.
I can't remember much about the caravan site except it was down a small lane, and near the entrance to the lane was a field with two donkeys in it. Every morning I loved going down to the field to give them some bread and a stroke. they seemed to know what time I would be there and would be waiting for me at the gate. Today I live near Nottage,but have been unable to find the field, it has probably been built over now.
Most days we went to the beach at Rest Bay. This is a large
beach which had plenty of rocks for me to climb, and lots of
rock pools where we caught crabs and small fish.
We also picked winkles off the rocks to take back to the
caravan to eat. We boiled them in a saucepan, then using an
old pin, picked them out of their shell.
Another day Dad taught me how to catch fish with a length
of fishing line with lots of weights and hooks on the end. He
twirled it around his head at great speed and let go, but his aim
was not too good and often the hooks became embedded in my
new jersey bought especially for the holiday,and after he had cut
the hooks out with penknife, my new jersey looked as if it had
been the home of a family of moths. Mam was not amused. I cant
remember Dad ever catching a fish.
After spending a few summers at Nottage, and a small fortune
on bus fares,we decided to spend future holidays at a caravan
site called"Trecco Bay".It is still there today, but now it is a flat
commercialised site
When we were there the caravans nestled amongst sand dunes close
to the sea.
One year we were a bit too close, because one night there
was a violent storm, and the caravan rocked from side to side.
We were terrified and thought the caravan was going to tip
over, but luckily we stayed upright. Some were not so lucky
because at daylight we looked outside and there were caravans
tipped on their side and some almost submerged in water.
I grabbed Dad's camera and ran around taking photos (right)
hoping to sell them to a local paper, but never did.
But most of the summers spent at Trecco were hot and sunny
and I would turn a lovely shade of brown much to the envy of
June, who spent hours sunbathing covered in all sorts of cream,
but never attained the same tan as me!
The weeks at Trecco were spent climbing to the top of the high
sand dunes, and racing back down again, more often than not falling
headlong which meant a trip back to the caravan for Mam to clean
out the sand from my eyes and mouth.
Dad often took me to the fairground, he loved a ride called "Around the World" in which a little boat took us through dark tunnels, a bit like the Ghost Train except the boat bumped it's way along fast flowing water channels passing views of far off countries. But I wasn't a great lover of the fairground, I prefered clambering over rocks in search of crabs.
Bob, our dog came with us once, but he must have misbehaved so he was left at home with my Nan the following year. The night before we left for home I had a dream something had happened to him," Dont be silly" said Mam and Dad,"He's ok, you wait and see" When got back home, Bob was dead. In one of his mad dashes from the house he was run over by a car.
It took a while to get over the death of Bob.
I remember also the Sunday bus trips organised once a year by the working mens clubs. A fleet of buses from the local council transported club members and their families to Barry Island, leaving Pontypridd almost deserted except for perhaps a few tea totallers!
As soon as we arrived at Barry Island the menfolk would disappear to the nearest pub, I would don my woollen swimsuit, lovingly hand knitted by Mam, and head for the sea. Wading in to the sea was no problem but when I decided to go back to Mam for a sandwich, I discovered that a woollen swimsuit when wet,weighed ten times heavier, and to get back out of the sea with your swimsuit around your ankles, and acting like a sea anchor, was no mean feat!
Another problem was not taking note where Mam had been sitting on the crowded beach, then panic sets in, but I was lucky and found her. I remember the lost children centre's loudspeaker blaring out all day, descriptions of the children in their care! A great time was had by all.
One evening my friends and I went to the Park Hall, a cinema in Pontypridd known locally as the"Flea Pit" as the audience always came out itching, and also being built on the banks of the River Taff, it wasn't unknown for the odd rat or two to wander over your feet during the film!
This particular evening they were showing a film about the Apache chief Geronimo who spent most of his time trying to kill the American cavalry as they were destroying the herds of buffalo,and so,one weekend as we sat around the camp fire in the woods we decided to try and live like the Apache.There were no cavalry to kill in Pontypridd and there was also a shortage of buffalo in the woods,but we had Rabbits,fish in the brook,and all sorts of plants to eat.
We made ourselves bows cut from the branches of a Hazel tree, and arrows from the thin shoots that grew at the base of the Hazel.To complete our armament we each carried a small hatchet
( bought for two shillings and sixpence from Woolworths) and a sheath knife in our belt. Imagine walking around with that lot nowadays times have changed.....
We gave ourselves Indian names,stuck feathers in our hair, and even made little cuts in our wrists to become "blood brothers".
We made "dens" in the wood from branches, tin sheets "borrowed" from the old mineworkings,and then camouflaged over with ferns and grass.We never killed anything with our bows and arrows, but we had some near misses to ourselves.
It all seems stupid now looking back to those days, but we didn't have television or computer games then.
The "Geronimo tribe" carried on through most of the summer until our next visit to the "Flea Pit" when a film about Robin Hood was showing, well now..... we still had our bows and arrows didn't we?




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June, Creighton, Mam, Dad,& Me at Nottage

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