Memoirs
The Stories I Need to Tell Before the Porridge Sets
A few months ago, I had one of those "the end is nigh" moments. At seventy years old, I realised around 85% of my life was over, and I decided I'd better get my memories down before Alzheimer's or something equally as fucking nasty came along to turn my brain to mushy porridge.
This blog started out as a simple memoir for my daughter—a record of a life that has been anything but ordinary. It quickly became much more: a place where I can speak my mind, whether I'm ranting about the bloody absurdity of life coaches or waffling on about wasps with attitude.
The heart of this site remains my story.
Here on this page, you'll find the tale of my life, starting with a childhood growing up poor in working-class Swansea, South Wales, right through to my service in the British Army. There are still plenty of tales to be written, and a few that'll probably get me told off by my daughter — so stay tuned.
1954 - 1962 Wern Fawr Road Port Tennant
This is where it all began: a crowded, noisy house in Port Tennant where I learned life's pecking order, both in the family and out on The Bank. The stories below are listed in a rough chronological order.
14 Wern Fawr Road: Life in a 1950s Welsh household where memory shapes the truth
Guy Fawkes Night: Tyre Raids, Bonfire Battles and the Worst Guy Ever
School Days: Peeing Contests, Playground Crushes, and a Chipped Tooth
The Fishmonger's Ice, a Drifting Dredger, and the Longing to Be Named Tim
1962 - 1966 Bardsey Avenue Blaenymaes
Our 'posh' move to a council estate that looked like the big time to my eight-year-old eyes, and where I perfected the art of the five-fingered discount.The stories below are listed in a rough chronological order.
First Impressions of Blaenymaes Or: Why Seagulls Fly Upside Down Over Bardsey Avenue
It’s Not a Donkey, It’s a Monster… and Other Tales of Mild Childhood Psychopathy
1962 – 1980s Gors Avenue, Mayhill
This is where my grandparents settled after we all left Port Tennant. Their house on Gors Avenue became a constant throughout my childhood and into my adult life, with stories overlapping from Blaenymaes and beyond until the mid-1980s. The memories below are listed in a rough chronological order.
1966 – 1970 Trapp, Carmarthenshire
Our escape from Swansea's bailiffs led us to the rural village of Trapp. Here, in a former farm called Maesyffynnon, we found a feral childhood paradise of woods, orchards, and a completely new set of rules—both at school and in the lanes we sometimes hitchhiked to get there.
1970 The Army: an Introduction
This is the story of an escape. In 1970, a desperate boy from the Welsh valleys walked into a recruitment office to change his life. He found a career, a trade, and a tragedy that would define him. These are the memories and the hard-won opinions from that journey.
1970 - 1972 Army Apprentices College Harrogate
At fifteen, I swapped the fields of Trapp for the parade grounds of Harrogate, where the Army Apprentices College promised to turn scruffy Welsh boys into skilled tradesmen and disciplined soldiers. For two years, I learned to march in step, bull my boots to a mirror shine, and navigate the peculiar hierarchy of military life. These are the stories from those years: equal parts comedy, camaraderie, and the slow transformation from desperate kid to Radio Telegraphist A/T.
The Journey to Harrogate: Broken Zips, Melted Mars Bars, and the End of Childhood
First Impressions at Harrogate: Juicy Lucy, Dirty Ears, and My First Fight
1972 - 1974 1 Armoured Division HQ and Signal Regiment, Verden BAOR
At seventeen, I flew to West Germany on a backwards-facing RAF VC-10 and joined 1 Armoured Division as part of the British Army of the Rhine. For two years, I spent nine months annually on Cold War exercises, freezing in German forests whilst operating Larkspur radio sets and learning that defending freedom mostly meant being permanently cold, wet, and tired.
First Flight on the Backwards Express: My Arrival in Cold War Germany
The Price of Freedom: Or Freezing Your Balls Off in a German Forest
Why the Soviets Should Have Invaded West Germany on a Friday Night
1974 - 1975 70 Army Youth Team (Royal Signals), Cardiff
After two years freezing in German forests, I was posted to 70 Army Youth Team at Maindy Barracks in Cardiff, just 50 miles from home. Army Youth Teams provided youth organisations with outdoor activities like rock climbing, assault courses, and survival skills that they couldn't organise themselves. Our mission was low-key recruitment, public relations, and professional development for young NCOs learning to work with civilians.