Holidays at Milland’s Field, Summerland Lane
by Ron Fisher
I was born and brought up in Lamb Street, near Ysguborfach Street in Waun Wen in Swansea. I lived with my parents and sister, Wendy and nearby lived my Dad’s cousin (who I called Uncle Ivor) and his wife, Auntie Lil. It was a warm loving family in a caring community, where everyone helped each other.
OS Map 1921
Reproduced by permission of
County Archivist at West Glamorgan Archive Office, Swansea.
Ed Note: I have marked Summerland Lane in red
Every summer we would all go on our holidays, travelling on the Mumbles train to Oystermouth, then onwards to the ‘Tent Field’ near St. Peter’s Church, Newton. At various times I was in the pram or walking according to my age as there was no transport up the hill, through Summerland Lane and through Pickets Mead.
Later, we rented a bungalow at Milland’s Field. One year, our bungalow came up for sale and my Dad and Uncle Ivor bought it for £25—£12..10s each, having borrowed the money. Ours was the first little round bungalow, some had verandas and each had a toilet in a tent. This was a very happy time for me, some of the happiest days of my life.
Caswell Bay
Each day we would go swimming at Caswell but we never went to Langland. Everyone seemed to have a gramophone, ukulele, banjo or concertina and these would be taken down to the beach of an evening where everyone would enjoy a sing-song. I remember that Uncle Harvey Morgan picking up beetles and putting them on his newspaper and pretending to read by the light of the glow-worms. Bats and owls abounded in the area and I could listen to the owls hooting as I lay in bed.
Cooking was done on a methylated spirit stove or paraffin obtained from Newton garage. In my mind I can still smell delicious bacon and eggs mixed with the smell of meths. We would shoot rabbits on the golf course and enjoy rabbit stew or have it roasted and stuffed with sage and onion. For our other supplies, we would go to Howells, the shop next to the Rock and Fountain. There was a bakery out the back and sacks of sugar. In the evening I would sometimes help to bring in the cows for milking. Next door to the schoolhouse was a newsagent where we bought our comic cuts. Throughout the summers, Dad would continue in his work at Weavers, the flourmill on the docks and come home each evening to us down at the bungalow.
When I was old enough, I would sometimes go to the White Rose pub, where in the 20s and 30s, groups of Great War veterans would gather to reminisce. There were pilots from the R F C, submariners, George Turnbull, a Navy veteran and Sid Cadogan, a Conscientious Objector, who had been imprisoned on Dartmoor. I would just sit and listen, fascinated as they discussed their experiences in the Great War. They were an amazing group of men. I little thought that I too would one day serve in a War.
I used to go down to the Regent Cinema (now the Castleton Walk Arcade) where the programmes changed twice a week. Much later (1950) in the same premises, by now the Casino Dance Hall, I met a girl called Barbara and knew that this was the girl for me. We married in 1952 and have recently celebrated our Golden Wedding.