The Pre war years and innocent peacful Day's of the Roaring Thirties.

On a Sunday morning

Working Men at their leisure A game of Pitch and Toss was Played what was then a Quiet spot on the Old Road Maesglas.

The chink of penny coins thrown into to the air. A penny coin could buy a lot in those days. Four pennies would buy a pint of beer, tuppence a five packet of woodbine Cigarettes. A Three penneth of liver.

And an extra row of spuds for the next kid about to be born If the misses were up the stick.

Pigs grunted close by in the yards enclosed by rusted once galvanised steel sheets of the enclosure fence.

Being a Sunday morning all it lacked was the bike riding Trimmer of coal or iron ore dock worker winding his tired body up the old road.

With shovel like a giant banjo. That a dozen eggs and a bit of bacon could loose itself on.

The great shovel balancing on their shoulder.

Men and machines of bicycles They would ride the gaps between puddles. Ever intent on ending the journey safely to the local Muffler club and partake of a Drink of a good pint of ale.

Near the new built Giant store of the big "W" and COMET stores. The authors Father had his allotment garden near by on the ground that is built the big steel gas Holder.

This area has nostalgic memories for the author.

And as a young lad had a little task on pay day if his father was on two till ten shift.

He would wait by the bridge for father to drop down to him a little tin box containing his wages inside a bright new white fiver .

Mog had instructions to go straight home hold in his hand and not stop and talk to strangers.

Opposite the gas holder On the old Comet store site.

The big old navel gun stood on what was an ash tip. Mounted for anti aircraft work.

It soon became well known as it shook the whole area when the gun crew went into action to fire at German aircraft.

The monster barrel stood out from its position with circle of sand bags its green painted gun barrel ever pointing at the sky,

Standing out for there was a slight rise to its position, and was not far from where the father of Mog had his allotment garden.

During the war at times with noise of the enemy aircraft, and other gun positions firing at aircraft targets. Often it fired when his Dad was working on the garden he often joked that there was not any need to dig the leeks out of the ground. When the bloody gun fired the vibration of the old gun shook them out.

The area each side of this old road. Many family men had pig sty's chicken coups and nanny goats you name the live stock they had them in their allotments or yards.

One prominent landmark garden shed was a big lifeboat upended and stood for many years. But alas with the new development of this area it stands no more. A void of space as if it never was.

Many of us youngsters would watch the tosses of coins throw into to the air.

Only a chink of penny coins could be heard in the deadly silence of the wait of fall to ground.

Men of the bet heads a tanner,

A Look out kept watch for local Bobbie on hoof.

And Romany Gypsies made their Pegs.

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Memories only now remain of days when Pigs grunted close by in the rusty sheeted enclosed yards.

The smell wafting in the air of vegetable household waste being boiled in the make shift bricked in cast iron bowl of the boiler.

The smoke of the fire beneath the bowl belching out of the little chimney stack potatoe peelings and a strong smell of cabbage from the boiling concoction mingling with drifting smoke and smell of pig dropping's drifting over the old road area.

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