Merthyr Valley Homes Capturing Memories
Through August and September 2013, inhabitants of three residential homes in Merthyr: St Tydfil’s Court, Haven Close and Cae’r Wern enjoyed two visits per home from performance poet Mike Church.
The Capturing Memories project in Merthyr Valleys Homes Sheltered scheme looked at the problems of social isolation as well as health and wellbeing – mental and physical. Poor mental health is linked to suicide and in Merthyr Tydfil the suicide rate is 13.7 per 100,000 people compared with the average of 12.1 per 100,000 across Wales. This project was a good stimulus for particiapants – keeping the brain active, allowing them to share and capture their memories, thoughts and dreams in poetic form.
The project will culminate in the production of a booklet of poems and a celebratory sharing event.
The Saturday Matinee
We remember the Saturday matinee
At the Castle Cinema
Riding along on the crest of a wave
You’d go on the stage for your birthday
And if it was a Western
You’d gallop up the hill all the way home
With Roy Rodgers and Zorro
We were miners of the ABC
Lining up for the Saturday films
Queuing right up the High Street
And on the back row seats
There was a record for who had the most kisses
We remember the Saturday matinee
We had five cinemas in Merthyr then
Although a couple were fleapits
No backs to the seats in the Cosy in Penydarren
And they’d throw apple stumps to the front
Never the apple always the stump!
You’d go home with popcorn stuck to your back
And nobody used the toilets in the Cosy
You’d need willies in the front row
And go splashing on the way out
But nobody wanted to miss the film
We’d see Charlie Chaplin on a first date
And the manager at the Palace
In his black suit, dicky bow and pencil moustache
Usherette torches would shine in your face
With cries of, ‘What you doing there?’
Stampeding with swords on the way out
Whatever happened to the Saturday matinee?
Those good old days
Simple days, happy days
Where are they now?
We’ll have to wait till next Saturday to find out!
Caerwern
Schooldays
Those happy schooldays
When we had respect for teachers
It was ‘Mr’ this or ‘Miss’ that
There was a time when women who married gave up work
We had teachers that kept their eyes on you
Inside and outside school We had boys’ schools
And girls schools
One day we bunked off to go sunbathing in the park
Until a teacher appeared with his class on a trip
We had to hide quick in the rhododendron bushes!
There were coal fires and ringing school bells
And using the mantelpiece clock to time the lessons
Until the day Thelma Powell wound the clock on
If you were in Thelma’s gang you were ok
We had a teacher called ‘Froggy’
Because every time he caned you he jumped up and down
We had those third of a pint silver top milks with straws in
Melting by the fire on cold winter mornings
And we had a little sleep on campbeds
One nameless girl always made sure her bed was next to John Evans
We had a teacher who looked like a witch
We even looked for the broomstick
There was Peggy Longdrawers with the loose elastic
And second hand Rose
Who got her clothes from her sister
We’d wear our Tams on our heads
And have our daps in our dap bag
In those happy old schooldays
Caerwern
When We Went A Courting
Courting was always nicer in the dark nights
It was like that in Georgetown
The suspender belts and dark discreet nights
We’d go in the garage if it was wet
And then the roof leaked
Monkey parading up and down the High Street on a Sunday
If you didn’t pull by 9pm you might as well go home
Boys one side girls the other
That was the very early days of Facebook
When we used to eyeball them instead
‘Are you serious?’
‘Are you spoken for?’
‘What’s your house like?’
My eyesight was better then
In winter we had hot vimto together in the café
Raspberry and ice in the summertime
My sister in law said ‘It wont last you know’
But 60 years later it’s still going strong
We had commitment then
The posh china would come out
Even the cakestand and the tablecloth
Youngsters today don’t make love
They have sex
Do they respect their bodies?
We do wonder sometimes
We feared pregnancy
And built friendship first
Like Cinderella we had to keep an eye on time for home
They wouldn’t call it courting now
But back then
It was proper commitment
Caerwern
When We Were Children
When we were children
If you ate the pips
A tree would grow out of your head
We played marbles and hopscotch
A crowd of us would play on the mountain
And wait for the two o’clock hooter
We’d play five stones
And my father would warn us
Not to go to Dai Cabbages
When we were children
Birthdays were basic
You might get a book
Maybe a Beano Annual at Christmas
With an orange and a bag of monkey nuts
When we were children
We’d have whipping tops and hook and wheel
Sent down the park all day
With water and sandwiches
Last on the bottle would get the floating crumbs
We’d all get dirty
With muddy knees, mud pies and roly polys
We had immunity to germs back then
When we were children
We didn’t eat apples in the dark
Just in case of maggots
We had pantries and larders
And bread and dripping with salt n pepper
We had water from the well
And milk in aluminium cans from the house down the road
We had crackling and proper home cured ham
And there was the day the donkey ate the napkins
When we were children
They were good old days
And we were allowed to just be a child
Caerwern
Back In The Day
Back in the day community
Was leaving your door open
Trusting people
Helping people
Children would be left to play
Always given a helping hand
People knew their neighbours
Back in the day
Families were bigger ,everyone belonged
People didn’t move away
There were lines of prams outside Woolworths
Communication by chatting not texting
A bit of gossip worked wonders
There was neighbourliness
No retail parks the corner shop had it all
People would look out for children
Look out for Alzheimer’s sufferers
Look out for each other
No cars outside schools everybody walked
Sheep roamed the roads
Back in the day
You didn’t hear foul language
People held doors more often
And the policeman seemed six feet tall
And knew everyone
Sorting out things on the spot
They’d drag children caught smoking back home
Teachers had respect
Back in the day
Community was different
Was it better?
You decide…..
Caerwern
No More Work In Merthyr
There’s no work in Merthyr now
Part time only if you can get it
In time gone by
You could go from one job to another in a day
Finish at Luptons one day
And straight to the Button Factory the next
Now it’s all Call Centres and different accents
There’s no work in Merthyr now
And if it’s a Glasgow accent it’s even worse
No chance of knowing what’s said
Everyone has to leave Merthyr to find work
Some even get by painting and decorating in London
We had the Labour Exchange
And jobs in factories and shops
People in Woolworths were looked down on
By those who worked in Boots
There was always a job
Now all the factories have gone
There’s no work in Merthyr
Kayser Bonder gone
Triang Toys gone
Teddingtons gone
Thorns gone
BSA gone
Hoovers gone
Button factory gone
And of course the mines gone
But we remember those days of work
First wages of £3 or 10 shillings a week
Bringing home £10 from Triang and thinking you’d won the Lottery
Then the days out with the Labour Club
The trains so long to go to Barry
The back end would be in Merthyr
The front would be in Pentrebach
Factory fortnight when everything shut down
Heading to the Costa Brava of Trecco Bay
Sitting in the sun in black coats and black hats S
weating on the beach
Then the knotted handkerchiefs
In those carefree, safe days
We didn’t know we were poor
As everyone was the same
Working in the bakers and put in to the ovens
On a piece of sacking
When children never said ‘I’m bored’
We remember the days of work
The days of nothing
The days of plenty
But there’s no work in Merthyr now
Caerwern
Let Me Tell Let me tell you about courting
The war meant a lack of men
Meeting men at Chapel ‘
That boy over there fancies you’
‘I’m not going out with him
Look at the size of his nose’
We’ve been married 46 years now!
Gangs of boys and gangs of girls
Went monkey parading
Pairing off in dance halls
A terrible disgrace if you were left on a chair
For the last dance.
Saving for shoes then sinking in mud
Gallantry and good old days
Three boys and three dances
And at the end of the night
All three waiting at the bus stop
Wanting their kiss
So sneaking home alone
Needing a father’s permission
Then meeting over the bacon slicer
And other romantic places
Let me tell you about courting
Our Days Out
We loved our days out
Charabang trips not coaches
And only once a year
The Sunday school outings
Never had a holiday
Maybe a picnic at Pontsarn
Looking forward to Barry Island all year
Then it rained
Barry Island, Porthcawl or Bristol Zoo if you were posh
We loved our days out
And on that one day a year
We’d have sandwiches on trestle tables in a church hall
Then down the beach
Being polite passing cakes down the line
Never to see them again
It doesn’t always pay to be polite
Nan in her coat on the beach and thick stockings
Sweat breaking out under that hot beret
Booing the Prisoner of War camp at Bridgend
On the way to Porthcawl
We loved our days out
Girls club, girl guides and brownies
And a father who made wooden swords for street fights
Crawling through the old mine workings
Scrumping apples from the teacher’s garden
And when teacher appeared I’m stuffing apples in my knickers
And waddling away as fast as possible
By the time I get home the knickers
Are two sizes too big
We loved our days out
Playing kiss chase in the street
Running backwards to get caught
We loved our days out
Wind berry picking up the mountain
And up to Snob Hill for the watercress
The open air Lido
With ice cold water
And sliding down the hills
With a green bottom to show for it
Scared to put your knickers in the wash
With holes in them
And still two sizes too big
The ferns on the hillside could tell many a story
We loved our days out
Troedyrhiw
Remembering The Old Schooldays
Ah schooldays…
In the old days we had the cane
And then a good hiding at home
The cane for being in a train carriage with boys
The cane for sitting at the front
Teacher said we’d have talked if we were at the back
You could hear the ticking of the clock
Detention and lines ‘I must not speak in class’
Nora the nit nurse
Nitty Nora the boogie explorer
Who’d give a nod to the teacher
And everyone knew who had them
Ah schooldays…
In the old days we had
Slaps on the head and facing the wall
Today teachers are afraid to touch a child
It’s the pupils telling the teachers what to do
Children wanting school to be Disneyland
And we had the Cogi Bach
The Traunt Officer
And a Truant School in Treharris
You simply had to go to school
Or the Cogi Bach would get you
Nobody would talk to you if the Cogi Bach went to your home
Ah schooldays….
In the old days there was no computers or cookery
We had short hand typing, needlework,
Cork work and patchwork quilts
Making the sign of the cross to get your sums right
A coal fire in every class and warming quart bottles of milk
That froze in winter
Ah schooldays
In the old days we had semolina, tapioca, porridge and cardboard flan
‘And if you don’t eat your semolina I’ll tell your mother when I get home’
Stews with pearl barley, suet dumplings and carrots
For afters an apple, maybe an exotic orange or banana
But on Mondays Jam Roly Poly or Spotted Dick
(You can’t say that in schools now!)
I cried when someone ate my brown parcel of bread and jam
And slept on camp beds in the afternoon
Times tales and proper conversation
Ah schooldays…
Those really were the days
Troedyrhiw
Children Of Today
Children of today get too much
We were more responsible and carefree
We used to play hopscotch in the street
And take pop bottles back for cash
Go to Saturday matinees with my brother
And roller skates were a luxury
Sometimes you’d get to wear just the one for 50 yards
Children of today get too much
We got evacuated from Birmingham to Aberdare
We were swinging from ropes round lampposts
21 coaches to Barry Island once a year
Skipping in the street
There were no cars then
Children of today get too much
We were courting up the mountain
Picking wind berries and spinning whipping tops
Throwing jacks
And lighting papers and shoving them up drain pipes
The rag and bone man would give you a goldfish for buttons
Even if you’d taken them off your father’s best funeral shirt
And had the hiding of your life!
It was charabangs not buses then
And waiting for the horse to deliver instant manure
Children today get too much
My knitted orange swimming costume came off in the sea
And we nearly drowned in the Lido spring water
Proper cold water not heated
The teachers in coats as the children turned blue
Scrumping apples
We’d never seen a banana
Ate my first one peel and all
In the old days when everyone shared
We were one big family
But the children of today get too much
Troedyrhiw
Teenagers
I didn’t like myself as a teenager
I was the ugliest one around
And found to have rickets
So bow legs
That needed pegs
To sort them out Cod liver oil too
A spoonful good for you
I didn’t like myself as a teenager
I wanted to change the world
Don’t we all
You could call
Us aging hippies
Down the chippies
Idealistic with peace and love
That went hand in glove
With a cup of cocoa on the barges
It wasn’t courting cos it was missing
All that kissing
We were innocent then
Going to church and chapel
Giving teacher an apple
Then day trips in a charabang
And how we sang
All you need is love
But I’ll wager I didn’t like myself as a teenager
But then does anyone?
Thank god those days are gone….
Dorothy Perkins and Karen Moore
A Sweets and Spangles Childhood
Sweets and spangles
Jingles and jangles
Five boys chocolate
And sherbet with yellow fingers
Lick them while it lingers
Black Jack and Fruit Salad
Sour Salt that cuts your tongue
Lumps of crystal
A pennorth of this
And a pennorth of that
Pink and white sweets
All shelved and neat in the Sweet Shop
The top shelf for happorth specials
And gobstoppers that was proper danger
And no sweets from a stranger
But it’s not the same today
We had Dolly Mixtures and Jelly Babies
Childhood back in the day
Playing hopscotch and a Diablo made of wood
Catching it on the string
And bring back
Stuck in the mud
And rat a tat ginger
They don’t have that childhood now
They’ll shut the door in your face
The human race has moved fast
But back in the past
It was simple and plain
And it’s not the same
Bring back sweets and spangles J
ingles and jangles
And with all that she has seen
Make Dorothy Perkins our Queen!
Karen Moore and Dorothy Perkins
Life’s Too Short To Clean The Cooker
As I contemplate the swiftness of the clock on the wall I wonder, should I perhaps make a will? There’s not much time left for us all Life’s too short to clean the grill
And as I lie here watching the birds flying by, Oh how I love to hear them sing A philosophical thought catches my eye Life’s too short to clean the oven rings
We waste so much time cleaning, trying to stay ahead All you get in the end is ‘dish pan hands’ Better by far we should enjoy ourselves instead Life’s too short to clean pots and pans
I enjoyed myself when I was young Yes back then I was a real looker But I’m still not too old to have some fun Life’s too short to clean the cooker Karen Moore
The Suitcase
Go and open the suitcase
Maybe inside you’ll find
A knitted swimming costume
Or a ventriloquist’s dummy
Maybe you’ll find some wet grey trousers
Or some much needed dried milk
Go on open the suitcase
Maybe inside will be
A ticking grenade
Or a ration book and identity card
Maybe inside will be
Some French knickers made from parachute silk
Or a person in pieces
Go on open the suitcase
Maybe inside will be
Old books, a Bible and magazines
Or some Spanish Root
Go on open the suitcase
Maybe inside will be
Nothing at all
Or some well off parents
Maybe they’ll be a feather duster
And a ten shilling note
Go on open the suitcase
Maybe inside will be
An old inkwell and pen
A winning Lottery ticket
Or a cupful of sympathy
Go on open the suitcase
Let’s see what’s in there
No on second thoughts leave it be
It might be Pandora’s Box
Troedyrhiw
The Suitcase
If you looked in the suitcase
You might find
A change of clothes
Or a pressed flower
Or a lot of unpaid taxes
If you looked in the suitcase
You might find
A Spy Kit with two spies and invisible ink
There might be a dictionary of poems
Or a bible black bible
You might find a toothbrush and toothpaste
Or a dead body and a hacksaw
Go on look in the suitcase
You know you want to
You might find
A photograph of family
A radio transmitter
And hard core drugs
Go on look in the suitcase
You might find
A piece of string for repairs or to hang yourself in emergencies
You might find much needed whisky
And a strong piece of cheese
There might be a cushion you should never be without
Or the innocence of a child
There might be the barking of a dog
Or there might be nothing at all
Unless you open it you’ll never know
But then again
It might be a bomb!
Caerwern
