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Martin's MemoriesLast updated: 24 November 2005

As a young boy in the 1950s,Martin Tither spent his summerholidays in Aberystwyth. Herecalls those childhood daysspent at the seaside and howtimes have changed.

This is the fourth in a series of articles by Martin. There arelinks to the others at the bottom of this page.

"In Llanbadarn was the twice daily spectacle of the cows beingdriven down the street for milking - who would even dream ofit now? I recall Idris Morris, wearing gaiters, coming roundwith a churn in the back of a van, from which milk would beladled out in a measure, straight into jugs.

It was Idris who gave me permission to fish from his landalongside the Rheidol, so it was off to the fishing-tackle shop(Was it Reddington's in Queen's Street?) where the ownersmoked a cigar, sold you all you needed and assured you ofgood sport.

Then there was the time my father returned from an earlymorning walk by the river, excited by the sighting of an owlperched placidly in a tree down by the domen. It wasn't untilhe had collected his camera, rushed back and got theviewfinder focused on it that he realised that some pranksterhad rescued a stuffed bird from the rubbish and put it up inthe tree.

At the time of building the Nant-y-moch series of dams, wewent to see the elderly brothers who would see the land theirfamily had farmed for years, along with the graveyard wherefamily were buried, gradually disappear beneath the water. Atthat time, a railway siding was laid in at Bow Street station(where one had earlier been removed) so that cement powdercould be transferred to silos for construction.

It was on such trips that we caught glimpses of kites, stillhanging on in the heights, but now to be spotted within 15miles of my current home in Peterborough. My uncle can recallDr Salter, one of the group who fought to safeguard theremaining population of kites in Mid-Wales, and who used topay the roadmen to keep an eye out for particular plants andmake sure they were not damaged by road repairs.

My uncle had an excellent collection of eggs, with species,dates and locations all recorded, which I believe had belongedto Dr Salter and which were passed to the RSPB.

Sundays were a very different day then. The pubs were closedand everything was quieter as fewer trains ran. Churchattendance was obligatory for us youngsters and a peacefulday ensued. Fishing was forbidden.

There was still the split between church and chapel, although I

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remember admiring the full-size Welsh harp which could beglimpsed in the window of the chapel manse below mygrandmother's. Is it my imagination, or were the railings of allchapels painted with silver paint?

As children, we walked distances remarkable to manyyoungsters today. Up the river from Llanbadarn via the lanesto Capel Bangor, and back by bus. An afternoon expedition toconquer Pen Dinas, or by bus to Clarach, and a walk back overthe cliffs and Constitution Hill.

I can remember walking up the Waun to see the Queen openthe extension to the National Library in 1955. I didn'tunderstand what it was all about, but I knew somethingimportant was going on.

A trip into Aber from Llanbadarn was frequently on foot, eitherover the railway crossings and down along Blaendolau flats, oralong the main road to Halfway/Llangawsai, and then in viaPlas Crug. Before turning off the road onto the riverside path,we passed Mr Pearce's redbrick house, now erased by theretail park.

I remember being sent there to buy eggs, only to find that MrsPearce was home by herself, and spoke only Welsh. I leaveyou to imagine how I conveyed, by sign-language andpointing, what I had called for. I, of course, spoke no Welsh.

Going along the flats was my preference with the nearness ofthe river, the small pools or cut-offs from the river with theirpond-skaters and waterplants, going past the farm, watchingthe rabbits scud away into the gorse bushes, and then havingto cross both narrow and standard gauge tracks by thechildren's park and its slide and swings.

The two gauges were close together there to allow easytransfer of items from BR to Vale of Rheidol trucks. It seemedvery brave to walk across ungated tracks, and trains seemedhuge when viewed from the trackside, compared with how theylooked from the station platform or signal box.

Walking along the main road had other attractions. Startingout from Llanbadarn we passed Mrs Powell's newspaper shopcome general stores opposite the War Memorial. It seemedlittle more than a cubbyhole in the side of the big house onthe corner from where she sold fresh bread (from the IdealBakery in town which you could visit and see the ovens andthe baker wielding huge wooden paddles to retrieve the bread)and newspapers. I remember her hands were always stainedthe colour of newsprint.

On past the butcher and onto Goronwy's the grocers oppositethe high churchyard wall. Along that row of houses was afriend of my Grandmothers, who had a case of stuffed birdsvery similar to the one I inherited, and probably the work ofthe well-known Aberystwyth taxidermists.

Onward, avoiding the light, by modern standards, traffic andstopping at the pistyll to give the dog a drink. After that, pastthe Walls ice cream depot and the Corona soft drinks suppliersthe bottles then were glass, with ceramic stoppers restrainedby a wire cage that had to be levered off carefully with yourthumbs.

Behind them was the gas works, which still had a railwaysiding laid into it, and covered by the signal box at Llanbadarn.

As I recall, it was seldom used and to do so required somefairly complicated movements because the siding faced thewrong way on the up track.

My great aunt died in early 1966 and visits to Aber becamefew and far between. The occasional trip back as a railexcursion, Grandmother's funeral, the odd day visit when onholiday in the area with my own children - and things hadchanged.

The picture of a town relying on the holiday trade was changedto one depending on the University. We looked in some tenyears ago and were depressed at what we saw and howdifficult to find somewhere to eat!

However, last September we (my sister, my wife and I), cameback for two nights and discovered a more encouraging face.The Prom requires attention (I wish I had a head for heightslots of need for window-cleaners!) but Aber came across aschanged. It still appeared relaxed and leisurely, but had agreater air of prosperity and direction.

On our last morning, we went to the top of Consti and the sunshone. While we stood there, looking down on Aber and alongthe coast, raking through the memories, the maroons werefired to mark the start of the silence in memory of those whohad died earlier that week in the World Trade Centre.

The town fell (largely) silent, and drifting slowly in from theeast came three red kites, circling and sweeping on the coastalthermals, giving a superb demonstration of their mastery ofthe skies. Somehow, it seemed a fitting close to our visit."

Written by Martin Tither who now lives in Peterborough.

Click on the links below to read some of Martin's otherrecollections of life in Aberystwyth.

The train journey to Aberystwyth.A young boy's fascination with the railways.The pier, the pleasure boats and the prom.

Click here to go to our Mid Wales History section.

Martin Turner wants to know more about the Corona bottlein the above story:

Martin:"When did Martin buy the Corona soft drink? I amtring to date a bottle I recently bought?


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As a young boy in the 1950s,Martin Tither spent hissummer holidays inAberystwyth. Here, hedescribes his fascination withthe town's trains and railways.

This is the second in a series of articles by Martin. There arelinks to the others at the bottom of this page.

"In defiance of the rules, I spent many happy hours in thesignal box at Llanbadarn Fawr with Harry Eccles, anextremely patient man with a host of tales to tell about histime on the railways.

He lived in Rock Cottage, between two streams, in an areacalled Mesopotamia. If I remember correctly, he started withloading cattle at Ellesmere and along the old Cambrian linesbefore settling at Llanbadarn, with Mr Pugh on the oppositeshift.

The box was lit by pressure lamps and cooking was done ona coal stove, the fuel for this being supplied by passing amessage to engine drivers, inviting them to drop off (literally)supplies in passing. Lumps of coal dropped from a passingengine bounced surprisingly far!

The box controlled the change-over from double to single lineworking as the track headed east, as well as controlling thelevel crossing. Opening and closing the gates was achievedby means of a huge wheel, rather like a ship's wheel, linkedby rods and chains to transmit the manpower at the wheel tothe gates.

I wasn't big enough tomanage the wheel, or the bigsignal and points levers, but Iwas allowed to pull the pint-sized levers that controlledthe wicket gates used bypedestrians to cross the track.At least, I was allowed to usethem until it was pointed outthat my sweaty palms werecausing the polished metaltops of the levers to rust -that is why proper signalmenalways threw the levers with aduster in their hands.

At the change from double to single track, a token had to beissued to permit the train to pass through. This is part of acomplicated safety arrangement designed to ensure that onlyone train can be on single track at a time - it is only recentlythat I have come to understand it.

This key/tablet/token was clipped into a snowshoe shaped






holder which would be put into a spring-loaded stand at thetrackside, from which the fireman would hook it out with hisarm as the train swept past. In theory, this should be done at10mph, but with the bank ahead, train drivers used thegentler slope out of Aberystwyth to work up somemomentum, so pick-up speed was probably nearer 30mph,resulting in a hearty crash as the holder slapped against theside of the engine less skilful firemen got bruised as theyhooked the device off with their arms while leaning out of thecab.

The passing back of the return token Bow Street toLlanbadarn required the fireman to thread the holder onto aprong at the trackside. Easier at lower speeds and a realchallenge when hanging out of the cab with a driverdetermined to get into Aber and complete his shift.

The loss of the token, or failure to pick it up, as sometimeshappened, was a serious business. On up (eastward)journeys, the train would have to be stopped and the firemanobliged to hurry back down the track to collect itignominiously, while curious passengers looked out of thewindow to see why the train had come to such a sudden haltand was delayed.

All these incidents had to be recorded in the signalman'sbook, with full details and timings shown. This book wassubject to examination and signing off by inspectors whomade unannounced visits to boxes up and down the line.Unannounced, but not always unexpected, as the railwayjungle telegraph soon reported their presence on trains orappearance on stations or in boxes.

I recall being bundled out of the box after word had beenreceived of an inspector being spotted in the area.

As well as the distinctive smell of the box, a mixture of coalfire, polish (everything shone), oil for the signal lamps,cooking and Woodbines, it had a distinctive sound. Allcommunication between boxes was by a series of bell codes,which indicated direction of travel, location and train types.These sounds were augmented by the clash of levers as theywere thrown, and the rumble of the gate mechanism as itswung to stop the road traffic.

Of course, there were those who were prepared to race theclosing gates. No bells or lights in those days to warn ofimpending closure, merely Harry looking out of the window atapproaching traffic and making a judgement, sometimesallowing blocks of traffic through as the train got closer andcloser, but always safely achieved.

Less fortunate were those foolish souls who tried to squeezethrough the closing gaps or whose impatience drove them tohurry through before the gates were fully open. A slightpause in the rate of opening could result in contact betweengate and car and the gates were heavy! I recall on a coupleof occasions the entire wire grille on one of the gates beingpeeled off.

From the elevated operating floor of the box, I had a goodview of all sorts of activities. Looking towards Llanbadarn, Icould see almost as far as my grandmothers, and then aboveand beyond that to the church and the cemetery spreadingup the hill behind it.

Across to Pwllhobi, and then to the point where the trackcame into view at Fronfraith (?), upriver towards Devil'sBridge, with a watchful eye on the progress of the LittleTrain, across the fields, later University playing fields to theriver, towards Penparcau, round to Pen Dinas, and finallydown the tracks to Aber itself.

Early days, it was still possible to watch the movement oftrains heading off down the South line to Carmarthen. Thecurrent station and its operations is a sad shadow of itsformer self.

I recall the Goods Yard, with the wagons being unloaded,coal trucks pulling away with deliveries, farming supplies,fertilisers and seeds, oil tankers and general busy-ness. Thestation building was always spacious and well-lit, with itsbuffet and Wymans news-stand, together with the Lein Fachbooking office.

More working platforms than now, with Carmarthen linesacross to the right, and Machynlleth tracks at the centre ofthe station, with gas-oil heater tanks between them.

I believe my mother worked as a telephonist before the warin the former tea-room after its conversion to telephoneexchange. The museum which was there some years ago wasfascinating - I came across posters advertising performancesof Gilbert and Sullivan by Ardwyn Grammar School in whichmy mother would have played a part.

To a youngster, the railway appeared to be a living andthriving being, but clearly it was in decline. The increasingcar ownership, providing flexibility, freedom and door-to-doortravel, meant passenger trains became fewer, shorter andless used.

Gone were the days of special trains, crowded with people infor the day or longer. And yet, I have an impression of arailway system staffed by people determined to see it work,with a pride in their duties, many knowing each other foryears and happy doing it.

There used to be the railwayman's club by the north side ofthe goods yard where they met. There is a whole other storyof the social changes brought about by the coming of therailways, from a unified time of day, to increasing thedemand for literacy in rural communities.

Other memories from sitting in the box: watching theworkmen who were covering the brook which ran down theother side of the road as part of road improvements,attempting to race across the open Vale of Rheidol crossingas the train approached and failing. Surprisingly little damagewas done to their blue Bedford van, considering the relativeweights of the parties involved, but of course I couldnt be awitness because I wasn't supposed to be there!

Watching people walking down the Vale of Rheidol track tothe river everybody did it, regardless of the warning signs.After all, it was perfectly safe when you knew the timetable.The remains of Tin Town, to the south of the narrow gaugetrack, also the marks of the siding laid in for the Eisteddfod(or was it the Royal Welsh Show) in 195_?"



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Martin's MemoriesLast updated: 27 February 2006

As a young boy in the 1950s,Martin Tither spent hissummer holidays inAberystwyth. He recalls thoseidyllic childhood days spent atthe seaside - and wonderswhat became of some of thetown's atttractions.

This is one of a series of articles by Martin. There are links tothe others at the bottom of this page.

"Who bought the wonderful model of the Taj Mahal carved inivory under a glass dome which was in the antique shop inEastgate Street for many years? The toast rack, an open-sided single-decker bus which did tours of the town?

Whatever happened to The Pride of the Midlands and TheCity of Birmingham, the two boats which used to load uppassengers from the slipway on the beach, when it was full-length? I remember going mackerel fishing on a greymorning from The City.

The beach used to be crowded in August, you had to pickyour spot and protect it from interlopers. Those crowdsaccounted for the apparently huge piles of deckchairs whichused to be minded by young men with satchels and tickets,who could fold a chair and swing it on to the heap in oneloud movement.

There was a shop which sold trays of tea for the beach,paper flags of all nations for sandcastles, also windmills onsticks, so bright yet disappointingly fragile.

The Council moored a raft and sometimes the hull of aspeedboat 30 yards offshore for the more adventurous andfoolhardy to swim out to. I recall the bandstand andsomeone (I want to say Jimmy Shand) and his Organoleons.

There used to be great excitement when the old lifeboat waslaunched. The maroons (rockets) were fired, and wereaudible in Llanbadarn, which was the signal for the lifeboatto be drawn by tractor from its shelter in Queen's Road tothe slipway. The new inflatable lifeboats doubtless havetremendous advantages with instant availability andmanoeuvrability, but they lack the drama that is so attractiveto youngsters.

The pier was magic to youngsters. Right at the entrance wasthe Roll-A-Penny stall, with the candyfloss machine close by.

This part of the pier gave the thrilling experience of beingable to look down beyond your sandalled feet through theslats to the rocks or sea below, depending on the tide. Inrough weather, the occasional splash of water came upthrough the boards.

Going in, there were banks of penny-in-the-slot machines, all






chrome, in which highly polished ball bearings could be madeto whiz round in the hope, usually unfulfilled, that they wouldfall into a hole and pay out at least your stake.

Also in there was the risqué What the Butler Saw machine,hand cranked, as fast or as slow as you chose, all black andwhite and fuzzy and worn but exciting! Next to it, the sametechnology revealed a dogfight between Allied planes(Spitfires?) and the enemy, I guess during the Battle ofBritain.

Further on were the automata - The Laughing Policeman, rosycheeks, rolling eyes and sound effects and, particularly scary,The Haunted Graveyard, with its slowly opening vault lidsrevealing a skeleton rising from its coffin, and all the while atramp sat nearby, drinking from a bottle.

Also on the pier was the Gipsy Fortune Teller who, withrolling eyes, a quill pen and laboured writing, would producea card with your future outlined on it. This too was a 1d inthe slot machine.

In the shelter on the front (redolent of Pacamacs) was a redmachine which could be persuaded, for a small fee and muchlaboured spelling out, to produce a metal label with yourname, or whatever you chose, embossed on it.

The harbour had few purelypleasure boats then, though Ido recall a particularly prettyblue yacht called Nest whichwas there for several years.There were fishing boatsmoored along the quay, withlobster pots piled up.

The Aberystwyth tourist guidefor 195_ carried one of myfather's photos of me and abearded fisherman admiring alobster. HMS Thunderer wasmoored at the end of thequay by the breach, finishingits days as the training centre for the local sea cadets.

I recall catching crabs off the end of the old jetty, and theexcitement of the occasional sighting of a fish, I suspectmullet. The stone jetty was too hazardous for youngsters tofish from, and was closed in storms. Family history has it thatGrandpa helped build the jetty, and also erected the railingsalong the Prom.

Other amusements? Crazy golf, Côr-y-Castell, walking thelength of the Prom, being sure to kick The Bar on the lastnight of the holiday to ensure a return trip.

The glamour of the dodgems in the basement of King's Hall,also the mini rifle-range down there.

Putting pennies in the mine which stoodoutside near the Pier, in aid of aseamens charity (there was a similarone in Aberaeron), also feeding theseagulls, which seemed huge, white,and with a particularly appraising eye.The arrival of the paddling pool near the

slipway, later the trampolines, againstthe edges of which less agile youngsterscould bruise their faces and split theirlips.

I am sure I can imagine the smell of the donkeys as theyplodded their way between the slipway and the pier - in factmy elder sister swears she still has the scars from beingstamped on by one of them."


This is the last in a series of four articles written byMartin Tither. You can read the other three by clickingon the links below.

The train journey to Aberystwyth.A young boy's fascination with the railways.Quiet Sundays and other signs of the times.


your comments

Shirley Oliver, AberystwythThe City of Birmingham was owned by My father JackDaniel, my uncle Lewis Daniel and my aunt Doreen Daniel.She was actually built in Aberystwyth by the Williams Brosboatyard. I spent many a happy summer sitting on decknext to my father as he steered the boat on 'round' the baytrips. Fri Dec 4 08:01:54 2009

Paul Daniel, Florida USAMy Granfather was one of the owners of City of BrminghamAKA AB 55 I rememember him cashing a 10 shilling notemany years ago with a daytripper going around the bay, TheBoat went as Sherran said to Pwllheli, saw it about 20 yearsago, I have seen a pic of it being built with the Duke ofEdinburough in the background.Sun Mar 1 19:53:35 2009

Mr.E.DrinkwaterI remember Ben White i helped on the Pride of the Midlandsas a boy one summer my Aunt's Annie & Gladys Davies livedin Prospect St. and new Ben and i think every body else inAber.Tue Apr 29 09:34:50 2008

Sherran Parry-Williams, Llangrannog, West WalesMy Grandfather Lewis Daniel owned the City of Birminghamwith his brother Jackie. It was sold during the 1980's due tomy grandfathers ill health. The boat went to Pwllheli. As afamily we often wonder if it is still there. Lewis's wife andchildren still live in Aberystwyth area as does Jackies'daughter but sadly both Lewis and Jackie passed away manyyears ago.

Sat Mar 24 18:09:29 2007

GERALD YANDELL ST.NEOTSI love your stories. I might not be as old as you but I canrelate to them all, seems old hapenings move on to others. Icome from Aber. I get to go home somtimes. I now live inSt Neots and go to Peterbotough often. I wonder whathappened to the old mine that was on the sea front? Keepup the key work. I want to hear more.

Do you know what happened to the old mine? Thu Jul 27 10:12:22 2006

David Clues from Port Moresby, Papua New GuineaThe Pride of the Midlands was sold to a London concern andwas sailed from Aber round to the Thames by (Great Uncle)Danny Thomas (Nicholas); Ben White and Bill (?) Parry. Ifmemory serves me correctly it took them just less than aweek. It eventually hit a semi-submerged tree trunk andsank. R.I.P The Pride of the MidlandsMon Jun 19 10:45:08 2006

Ian BentleyMy great uncle Lewis Daniels, my grandmother's brother,owned the City of Birmingham - one of the two boats thatdid the trips around the bay. He and his brother Jack ranthe boat. The boat was made in Scotland and sailed toWales. I too have strong memories of those days. TheDaniels family still have roots in the town. The boat was soldon many years ago now. I was also wondering where it isnow?Tue Feb 28 14:35:46 2006

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As a young boy in the 1950s,Martin Tither spent his summerholidays in Aberystwyth. Herecalls those childhood daysspent at the seaside and theimportant part played by therailways.

On this page, you can read Martin's memories of the trainjourney which marked the beginning of the holidays - or clickon the links below for more recollections.

A young boy's fascination with the railways.The pier, the pleasure boats and the prom.Quiet Sundays and other signs of the times.

"My mother was Margaret (nee Clark) whose parents lived inPadarn Terrace, Llanbadarn Fawr. Her father wasGeorge/Jack, originally garden boy at the big houseoverlooking Clarach, above Llangorwen, who became ablacksmith at the top of Penparcau, Southgate now a carshowroom. Also living in the house at Llanbadarn was mygreat aunt Lizzie.

From 1952 to 1962, the family (two adults, two - later threechildren plus golden retriever) travelled by train fromChesterfield. This meant changing in Birmingham from NewStreet to Snow Hill stations, a journey of around six hours, topick up the Cambrian Coast Express.

As a child it seemed to take ages to make any real progress,but leaving Shrewsbury (where there was a bowl of water leftout on the platform for travelling dogs) introduced a differentfeel.

Working our way up the Severn Valley, with its graduallyencircling hills stitched by hedges, capped with trees, thechanges were perceptible. The countryside became greener,rounder, softer. Tantalising glimpses of the river andpromises of hills to come ensured an eyeful of cinders as wechildren craned out of the windows.

Many of the stations we rattled through then are gone now,those that remain are shadows of their former selves. Andhow we should be kicking ourselves for their closure, drivenby the freedom that car ownership brought.

Most stations had goods traffic, with a variety of wagonsawaiting collection. Getting to Moat Lane, and then workinghard to get up over Talerddig and down into the Dovey(contemporary spelling) valley and Machynlleth, with its traceof the narrow gauge Corris Railway sweeping away.

Down to Dovey Junction where the train split, before the lasthaul over to Aber, breaking into the Rheidol Valley atLlanbadarn and down the bank, sweeping over the levelcrossing, handing over the tablet at the signal box and down






along the flats via Plas Crug to come to a halt in theplatform."


For more of Martin's memories, click on the links below:

A young boy's fascination with the railways.The pier, the pleasure boats and the prom.Quiet Sundays and other signs of the times.


your comments

Nick Jones from Swadlincote.How nice to read Martin's memories. It is with much the samefeelings of my own, of my own happy childhood of Aber. Iwas born of Charles and Vega Jones (nee Hewitt) of High St.Aber. in Leicester in 1962. Christened in Penparcau the sameyear. With nearly all of my holidays spent in Aber. until theage of 13, when my beloved grandmother Ethel Jones of HighSt. sadly passed away. What character and charm Aber. has.I remember the walk up to Plas Crug down Smithfield andcutting through the allotments and over the railway lines tovisit the cemetery to tend the grave of my Grandfather Stan!Jones of High St. Quite a well known character of the town iwas told. (What on earth would health and safety made ofthat footpath over the railway line's ?) but what a vantagepoint for a young lad with the main and narrow railway gaugelines underfoot. My memories in brief:- the Maroons to callthe life boat out, the Air raid siren to scramble the firebrigade, the Navy ships visiting the Bay with the rush downthrough the old grave yard of St. Michaels with the eariegrave tombs and cast iron railings to see the visitng ships,the old life boat slip the castle the gap and the harbour, icould go on and on. Oh Aber. what a place for ever in myheart.Wed Apr 8 09:55:45 2009

Steve Smith from Hersham ex AberystwythAll married couples leaving Aberystwyth by train got longwhistles sounded for at least five minutes as the locomotiveworked up the bank. Reminding my new father-in-law of thistradition, he went up to the cab and we were treated to atwo-tone warble all the way to Ynyslas!A big SW (SoundWhistle) to the driver that day (Up Evening Mail 20.9.75). Theguard came to find us and took us from Second to First Class.Maybe we got these 'extras' because my wife's Grandfatherhad been a well-known engine driver, until his death in theearly 1960s.We thanked the driver at Shrewsbury (where wechanged trains). He was a giant with a broad smile. Doesanyone have a record of the loco number? 240XX it was. Callme sentimental...Tue Oct 9 09:19:08 2007

Ian Brodigan, NorfolkUsed to travel down to aber regularly with parents frombanbury by train in the late sixties to mid seventies to visitfamily in aber and borth later journeys by car which meantmissing out on the chicken and stuffing rolls at shrewsburystation.Wasted many a bob or two down the kings hallarcade, and in those days aber had 4 cinemas on the sameroad the colliseum on its own and then 3 together further

down the same road one of which was called the celtic,played many a game round the castle and fed the goldfish inthe raised pond there played on the golf putting green manytimes,and always got a toy from the shop on the streetleading down to the pier, and the penguin bar always did thebest milkshakes anywhere,and as my father started as traindriver at aber i rode the footplate on the train to devilsbridge,(to the end of the platform anyway)more than oncehappy memories. Tue Nov 21 09:33:27 2006

Christine Jones LlangollenI remember Ken and Jean Hankey well. I had my weddingreception at Highbury, they were friends of my parents, Thelast time I saw him was at my mother's funeral. I went to alittle school near the station for a while, subdivided into Welshand English children and it had a huge rocking horse. Then tothe National school, and then to the Convent in LlanbadarnRoad before leaving for London.Mon Oct 2 14:46:42 2006

David Hankey from Great Easton, LancashireI recall the days in the '50s and '60s with great fondnesswhen my parents, brothers and I would travel by steam fromLeicester to Aber every summer for our annual holidays.Halycon days. We would travel to Birmingham and await thearrival of the "Cambrian Coast Express" from Paddingtonenroute to Cardigan Bay. My grandparents ran the "HighburyHotel" situated on Marine Terrace a business which eventuallywas handed onto my aunt and uncle, Ken & Jean Hankey. Kenworked for many years at the Cambrian News. Mygrandparents retired to Queens Avenue in Aberystwyth andresided their until their deaths in 1980s. We spent manyhappy hours at Borth and Ynyslas Sands, Devils Bridge on thenarrow gauge railway. We would hike up Constitution Hill andtake bracing walks along the prom to the harbour, past theCastle and generally get invigorated by the fresh sea air. Ihope one day to return and relive some of these treasuredmemories although I know Aber has changed like every otherplace.Tue Mar 22 17:32:01 2005

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