I was born in Glenville Road, Norton in 1938. Glenville Road was a cul-de-sac of four semi-detached houses, situated off Castle Road. It was a small and very friendly neighbourhood, and I think everybody helped each other, especially throughout the war.

At the end of our very long back garden, or so it seemed, stood Oystermouth Castle. Very imposing, though just a ruin. The front of the house faced Norton Lime Kiln, and as we children got older, a limitless play area. There were a small group of us there, and we were friends for as long as I can remember - at least until we started in Secondary Schools after passing out 11+ exam.

In spite of Glenville Road being on a bit of a slope, every summer, with our parents help, and the generosity of one of our neighbours Mr. Taylor who worked in the Lime Kilns and provided the lime to make the ‘paint’, we marked out a tennis court, where we all played with gusto, but with little skill! After being chased off to bed, I think our parents played. One evening we forgot to take the ‘net’ down for the night - just a length of rope really - and Mr. Davies from No. 12 rode into in on his bike, after finishing his shift on the docks! We were given quite a ticking off, and stopped playing for a day or two, but we never forgot to pack the net up at the end of play again.

Every ‘Bonfire Night’, we built a bonfire at the bottom of the road with the help of the bigger boys - Geoffrey and Alan Davies, and Garnet Davies - no relation. One year, one of the neighbours had had a lot of trees and bushes cut down, so we all joined in and collected it up for the bonfire. Mr. and Mrs. Shelby were so glad to see the back of it that they gave us 3d. each. Such wealth bought us several pints of paraffin to make sure things went with a swing. We girls were only interested in pretty fireworks, so we swapped our bangers with the boys. It was always a happy evening and we all enjoyed ourselves, looking forward to baking potatoes in the embers. Why were the potatoes always black as your hat on the outside, and raw inside? Never did solve that riddle!

During the long, endless days of summer, we would make our way down to the beach at Norton to swim - we must have been mad! The costumes we girls had, were of cotton, and were decorated with elastic. If the tide was out, we went cockling, putting the harvest inside out costumes so our hands were free to dig, pulling the ’cossies’ well out of shape in the process. Our other harvest was periwinkles, which we would remove from their shells with a pin after cooked. Of course, to get to the beach we had to first cross Mumbles Road, and then the tracks of the Mumbles Train, but that was no problem to us, as there were very few cars about in those days, and very few busses. Some evenings, Marion and I would wait at Norton Road for Marion’s grandparents, and they would give us a lift home in their car - did we feel like Royalty?

Mr. and Mrs. Davies, who lived at No.12, had a chicken called Gregory Peck, and in return for donating potato and other vegetable peelings, we would be rewarded once in a while with a new laid, free-range egg! I can’t remember what happened to the poor old hen - probably Christmas dinner one year.

Following the end of hostilities against Germany in 1945, we had a glorious street party, with an array of tables along the street. This was repeated later in the year for V.J. Day. That day brought rain, so the venue was switched to Norton Mission. I had never come across a multi purpose hall like this with an area curtained off for the altar, and I remember how it fascinated me more than the tea party!

Our Evening Post was delivered from Mr. Boyd’s shop in Norton, but the highlight of the week was the arrival of School Friend, and trying to solve the mysteries confronting the schoolgirl sleuths, and reading the latest episode of the serial.

In the village was a blacksmith, and I was amazed with the ease with which he handled the farm horses. We’d watch for ages - probably to get warm in the winter - until the shoe was in place, and the horse was led away, back to the farm. The smithy was alongside the Post Office, and I would go in regularly to pay a couple of coppers into my Post Office Savings Account, or buy Air Mail letters so mum could write to dad who was in the Merchant Navy. The Postmistress was Miss Tucker.

Also in the village I remember the Butcher’s Shop. Don’t think I ever went in for mum though. One place high on our stopping list was at Mrs. Burrows who sold ice-lollies. Just the job after a long day at school, and an equally long walk from the bus stop at Norton Road! Her house was opposite the butcher's shop, a . . .

Our back garden, as I have said, was very long and was broken up with the installation of an Anderson Shelter. I recall it as being a very dark, damp place, and I didn’t really like having to use it, not even for play after the war. I was very glad when it was removed. During the war my mother planted the further part of the garden with vegetables which were used to make all manner of dishes - recipes courtesy of the then Ministry of Food. It was a sorry day I disposed of that cookery book!

The lorries going up to the Lime Kilns went up a road to the main part of the works. That road is still there in part, but the workings are now a housing development. Other lorries would load up with the finished product and pass the end of our road on their way to Mumbles Road and their final destination. There used to be a grassy bank near the loading bay where we would sit and watch the world go by.

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