In the Street where I lived, Woodville Road
by Malcolm Snell
Most streets you travel down these days are quiet and empty with hardly a soul to pass the time of day with. No kids playing or people standing chatting.
I guess I was lucky because although I was born in Park Street, within six months my parents moved to Woodville Road. Now there was nothing wrong with Park Street, and it was closer to the train, but Woodville Road was bigger and brighter and always seemed to be full of people and action.It was rare not to see someone or something happening in our street.
'. . . then there was Davies’s bread cart . . .'
When Jones the milk was delivering, some of us boys used to help out just to get a ride on the cart. Olwyn Fairweather always appreciated our help. In the early days, I believe there were two postal deliveries a day and then there was Davies’s bread cart and I can still remember that big black horse “Captain”.
Another regular visitor was Mr. Webborn from Thistleboon with his cart laden with veggies. When the Blind Man came collecting some of us used to help him across the street. I don’t know why he came up the street from side to side??. On other days there was the shwnny-onion man from Normandy, the knife & scissors sharpener with his pedal driven grind-stones and quite often charity collectors. Occasionally the Gypsies came selling their pegs and ribbons. Few people dared not to buy something in case they incurred the Gypsies bad luck spell. All these door-to-door sales people knew which was the liveliest street in the Mumbles.
Rev Wilkinson
Sometimes a dark, heavy figure would appear walking down the street and the cry would go out
“Mum here comes the Vicar”.
Kettles would be filled, teas would be laid out and rooms hurriedly tidied up.
The Rev Wilkinson presented a stern exterior to us choirboys, but he was really a very caring man and probably one of the most true Christians I have encountered.
Sometimes a dark, heavy figure would appear walking down the street and the cry would go out “Mum here comes the Vicar”. Kettles would be filled, teas would be laid out and rooms hurriedly tidied up. The Rev Wilkinson presented a stern exterior to us choirboys, but he was really a very caring man and probably one of the most true Christians I have encountered.
Our street was home to many well known Mumbles identities. Mrs Maclewynn at the bottom took us all to Sunday School. Mrs Rowlands could send Johny Davies, the Chip shop, into howls of laughter when she mis-pronounced “Rissoles and Chips”. There were the Scotts, the Baglows and Mrs Bidder with daughter Lily Parsons living opposite. The Bowdens were a large family well acquainted with public transport. Billy Bowden was always on the train when I travelled to London. Mrs Bowden organised many outings for Mumbles people. The Bowden boys were one of the first in the street to own a car. Somehow they got hold of this huge old American Ford Pilot just after the war and parked it in the Drang-way while they undertook essential repairs.
But it was the lack of cars through the war years that really contributed to Life in the street. Everybody walked or rode a bike. There was heaps of interaction and everyone was friendly and knew everyone else, and a lot of their business too. When we had the big snow falls in ‘47/48 all the boys (and some girls) had sleighs. (we called them sledges) and we used to start from up near David Cope’s house on Overland Road and speed down and around full pelter into Woodville Road and end up outside Johny’s chip shop. No worries.
I remember I took my Aunty Millie (Vaughan) on my sledge one night for her to get chips. Heaps of people joined in the fun and there were no serious accidents that I can recall. You couldn’t do that today with all those cars parked in the street.
What was it about the mid ‘30s that caused the production of so many children - especially boys. There were heaps of boys around my age in Woodville Road. Like the Thomas’s, Peter Arnold, Kingsley Jenkins, John Harbridge, and of course my big buddy John (the bread) Davies. These, along with others such as Chris Mcniff, David Cope and sometimes one or two of the Marvelleys from Overland Road were constantly in demand to form sides for war games when I was little.
Depending on what film was showing in the Tiv’ that week, we would be engrossed in imitating Robin Hood, Tarzan or Errol Flynn. We were a noisy lot and bows and arrows, swords and toy guns were a high priority at birthdays and Christmas. Our most prized playground was ‘The Woods’ above Overland Road. We knew every secret trail and crook and cranny of those woods. Someone fixed a rope high up on a large tree and this became the ‘Big Swing’ which lasted for many years. Looking back, It was probably highly dangerous, especially when more than one jumped on, which was very often. We were of course simply following man’s basic instinct: learning how to hunt and become warriors. What an aggressive animal man is!!.
Most of the local adults were fairly tolerant of us invading their gardens and even climbing their trees while playing games; I was always up my favourite tree in Mrs Bevan’s back garden, despite frequent tellings off. But there was one garden I never ventured into. Old Ma Robinson and school teacher daughter Doris’s garden was out of bounds for me. Several times I felt the sting of Miss Robinson’s favourite ruler across my knuckles, and that was just for fidgeting in class. Imagine what I might have got if I had been caught trampling over her roses?? But the kids of my era were different to those of today. We never wilfully damaged other peoples property, painted graffiti, smashed cars, threatened old people or stole. Except for apples & pears of course, they were always fair game. I can never remember anyone in the street ever being in trouble with the law.
There were older, quieter, boys in the street too— John Arnold, Peter Beynon, Kingsley Thomas, Colin Morgan, Colin Thomas and the inescapable Ronnie Webborn. But they were different. I can’t recall whether any of those played exciting games like us or spent so much time up the woods. The exception was Bull Turnbull - he set an example for all of us.
There was one house in the street though, that I really hated. It was the Morgan’s opposite the drang-way. At one time this was a Sweet Shop. Who on earth was the planner that decided not to extend the drang-way through to John Street???. As a boy I was always being asked to run “messages” to Hullin’s or Davies’s Bread shop on the corner of John Street. To get there I had to go up over Overland Road and down Gloucester Place. Later in life, I had to run a similar route after getting home from work and having dinner etc., to meet Brenda at the Tiv’ in time to catch the first film. It would have been so much quicker if the Morgan’s House had not been built. I used to dream of winning the big one day and buying that house and demolishing it. People in Woodville Road could then have easy access to John Street
But then I guess no one walks any more, and are the shops still there??. Why didn’t my parents use the shops at the bottom of Woodville Road - it beats me!!
In comparison to Woodville Road other neighbouring streets like Oakland and Kings Road were dead, dull, sad, uninteresting. There were some boys in those streets, but they seldom joined in with our adventure games
The Scounts Camp at Parc Le Braos, Gower, c.1946. Photo: Malcolm Snell
A Mumbles Sports Team. Photo: Malcolm Snell.
I’m glad I grew up in Woodville Road. It was a street that was alive and exciting. I can still remember the names of practically everyone that lived there at that time.
Few Kids can boast of that these days!!.
Malcolm Snell, South Australia