I am the youngest of ten children, 7 boys and 3 girls. Every one of us was born in the same house I live in today, and reared all together - a very, very happy family.

Perhaps some of you remember Daniel and Emily Evans, our parents.

These days they say "don’t drink & drive", well, we found many horses left there by farmers who couldn’t get on their horses.

The fun we youngsters would have, feeding the horses over in the yard of the Lion.

Another time in the Lion Hotel yard, a horse and cart would be there with a little roundabout on the back. We paid a halfpenny to have a ride on it and thought it was an awfully clever thing to have.

Doctors used horses too. I remember a Dr. Tribe here in Treorchy - and when he had to be called, he’d chain his horse on the side of our house. It was quite a thrill for us children to think that yet again we could feed the horse.

It was also a wonderful sight to see the hunt coming down through Glyncoli Road and down through High Street. The women wore their beautiful riding kit with the top hats, and the men with their leather leggings. It was a beautiful sight.

The horses were a mainstay for collieries too, and they were also used to transport hay for all the horses that were working underground from the top of the valley right down to the very lower end of Gelli.

Of course then came the phrase "Shanks’s Pony" – if you didn’t have a horse – well, you had to walk. Everywhere.

We used to play with a hook and wheel and as there was no traffic, we’d be in the middle of the road playing scotch – or we’d throw an orange rope over the old lampposts and swing on it - with the lamplighter coming to shout at us. It was a very full time then.

I remember down by the (Stag) square when there was no traffic about, just a little lamp light there. We used to go and play under it and if a policeman caught you - he’d just shout, and that was enough - or report you to your parents, and that was worse still.

My childhood memories are of a big open fire, a big family, and mam and dad always here. Men always singing, in whatever the circumstances they found themselves. The colliery hooters telling us to get up, church bells calling us to worship, lying in cosy beds warmed with bricks – and those bricks had been in the oven all day, no hot water from taps nor hot water bottles.

Treorchy itself has since changed greatly – but the mountains will never, and that is what gives everyone "hiraeth". People can go as far as they like, but I’ll keep the gates open for you all and welcome you back home to this lovely village of ours.

"Pob bendith ei rai oddi cartref"

"Every blessing to those away from home"