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Video of Beti Gwenfron Evans talking about going back to Wales at start of World War II. Beti has also written an account of her childhood in Wales and London, extracts of which can be found below:

Beti Gwenfron Evans: a Welsh family in London and Wales, 1926-1945 (extracts from her memoirs)



I took my first breath, and cried for the first time on December 9th1926 at 8pm. The last fact was recorded in the family bible, inherited by my father from his father. I was born at Ty Go (Blacksmith's house) in Llwynygroes, Cardiganshire to Dai and Hannah Ellen Edwards.... I was introduced to a baby boy on the 7thMay 1928, my brother, Tom Wyn. We were both born during the depression and that may be the reason my father changed his occupation. We lived in a whitewashed cottage, with roses growing over the door, next to the smithy where he was the blacksmith.... Our parents didn't speak much of their own childhoods. My mother was born in Cerrig Llwydon ('big stones'), Bethania in 1896. Apparently a very bright person, she went to Penuwch Primary and Aberaeron County School. She left early to come home to work on the smallholding and look after her blind father, a fact I didn't even know about until I was over eighty.... Father was the youngest of eight or nine children and he followed in his father's footsteps. His schooling was very different to my mother's. He was taught in the church vestry, and he told us later in life that he was too 'twp' (backward or slow) to even copy the answers from his friends- I suppose in today's terms he would be called dyslexic. However, he did have a talent- he knew how to treat horses. This talent, I believe, was noticed and consequently he was offered a new career in London. I have very little memories of my early years except coming to our new home in Caxton Rd, Tom Wyn in a shawl in my mother's arms and myself coming to a house with a very high iron gate and iron railings.... What a change! In Wales all doors were always open to all. Welsh was our mother tongue and it wasn't until I started school that I found I was different to the other children. The head teacher's advice was to send the children out to play on the street!....

Dad's new career was horse manager for north London's United Dairies. He was now in charge of horses that were kept in Wood Green, Southgate, Tottenham, Finchley, Highgate and a few more. The Wood Green stable was almost adjoining our house and was home to about 50 horses. As the years went by our house became a home for a few Welsh boys. I still don't know if this was to increase the income or to welcome more Welsh people from the homeland.... I think we had about four lodgers at one time. Being drivers of the dairy carts most probably they were up and out of the house about five in the morning, home about two having delivered the milk, then out together somewhere. Sharing a bed was usual and the four slept in one room.

Religion played quite a big part in our lives as children. Mother was a staunch Methodist, Father was a Church man- but that didn't make much difference as the nearest welsh place of worship was about 2 miles away. Grace was always said before food: 'Arglwydd bendithia ein bwyd, i'n cadw yn fyw. Trwy Iesu Grist. Amen.'.... Every Friday night we went to the Band of Hope at the chapel under the guidance of Mr and Mrs Jones who taught us to sing and recite.... The highlight of the year was Children's Eisteddfod in Jewin Chapel (alas it was destroyed during the world war bombing). So many Welsh children took part, to me it seemed overflowing. It was a real Welsh get-together event. One other event I remember was the Urdd concert in the Welsh Club in Greys Inn Road. The year I remember most was the year the London Welsh community broadcast on the radio. Our Mr Jones was the pianist and we were placed by the microphone because we knew all the words of the Urdd's anthem.

There was a thriving welsh community in London during my childhood. Many had dairies, often a corner shop, and some kept cows, so they really did sell fresh milk. We had many friends.... There were two days when the London Welsh would be seen in the town. Tuesday was a half-day- dairies closed, and you would find quite a few London ladies shopping on Oxford Street. Sunday night was another. After Sunday night service the younger crowd went to Marble Arch where there was singing and more singing.

.... Summer holidays must have been a problem to most Welsh people in London, and I believe many like us spent some of it in Wales. Father would take us down to wales at the beginning of the holidays and leave us for a fortnight, then come to fetch us and join us for the last fortnight. If we stayed in Llangybi we stayed with my father's sister, and shared it with my mother's brother, who also lived in the same village. But our favourite place was Waunisaf, a small farm in Llanddewi Brefi, with my father's sister. This was freedom: trees to climb, a brook to play in and all the experiences of rural life. Waking at dawn to hear the cock crowing; out to the very tumble-down cowshed where two dark cows stood patiently while Uncle Tom swish-swooshed the milk into an enamel bucket. And then heaven- Auntie Ann would bring two cups and dip them and fill them with warm frothy milk. Drinking this was fun and we both had white whiskers!

Little did I know then of the tragedy that lay ahead for us. Our childhood was a very happy one. Full of fun, my father had been a joker all his life, always up to mischief.... I still see in my mind my father carrying Mother around our small garden on his shoulders, all of us laughing until we collapsed. During May of 1936 there was a diphtheria epidemic in the area. It struck our house and my friend's house across the road. My mother had a sore throat and became ill, the doctor called. The only thing I remember clearly is going into her bedroom after she had been taken into an ambulance and seeing her eyes shining through the tinted glass. Somebody came in and put tape all around the bedroom door. Swabs were taken from our throats and we were soon allowed to go out to play. We were not allowed to go and see Mam. Father allowed us to play on swings in a park nearby and we found our own way home. Then a day later he came and picked us up, took us to the stable yard where he parked the car, got out, gathered us in his arms, knelt down and sobbed.

My most vivid memory of the funeral was arriving at Paddington station on Sunday night. Tom had a grey suit, short trousers of course. I had a white dress, black and white checked coat and black shoes. We came out of the car to a very crowded platform. The crowd made way for us, but all I could see were black coats, and the crowd closing behind us. We reached the carriage and opened our eyes wide. Not an ordinary railway carriage but a long room with a long- even longer- shiny table. There were two smaller carriages we could sit and lie in, and a place for the coffin and all the beautiful, sweet-smelling wreaths. Young as I was, I shall never forget Mother's final farewell to London. As the train started the whole crowd erupted into singing the Welsh funeral hymn, 'O Fryniau Caer Salem'. It was very emotional. Whenever I hear the hymn I'm reminded of Mam.

As you can imagine our lives changed dramatically.... Within a few weeks we had a housekeeper, but although we were fed and the house spotless and Lil was pleasant enough, things were very different. Where Mother would play, Lil would clean. Mother used to teach and sing lots of Welsh songs: that was gone.

.... Life went on and our holiday time to Wales continued except that Aunt Anne had died and we stayed with Auntie Ellen in a small house in Llangybi, and from there to her daughter's home in Kerry near Newtown. It was September 1939, and during that stay the Second World War broke out and we found ourselves evacuees. I do not know how it came about but we were now in the care of my cousin Mary and her husband Reg, who had no children of their own. I suppose we did feel abandoned: we knew no one here and had to start a new school.... I enjoyed my days as Newtown School, although at first I knew no one. Newtown although in Wales is not a Welsh speaking area. Reg couldn't speak welsh and now we found ourselves in an all English atmosphere. As much Welsh as we had must have deteriorated- it was queer- here was a girl from London- the only Welsh girl in a class in school in Wales.

By the end of the second year, either they had had enough of my rebellious nature or had tired of having other people's children under their feet. Father had to find us a new home. London was still a dangerous place to be, so where else than Cardiganshire-his home country? This time not with close relatives, although we kept in contact with most of them. The couple who were asked to take in this unruly couple were Marged and William Edwards, now known to us as Anti Marged and Wncl William, and their daughter Doroth.

....Ysgoldy Llanio was built next door to a small chapel, also called Ysgoldy (teaching place) and this has played an important part in our lives ever since.... There were two important things in life at 'sgoldy, the first being a 'chapel goer', the second schooling. Everything was built around these. Sunday would be the day the week started. Chapel in the morning at Llanddewi Brefi, about two miles away. Sunday school at 'sgoldy at 2, then chapel later in the evening. Ysgoldy was not a big house. In fact, it was extensions built onto extensions. The original house was a very small cottage- living room, with staircase and parlour. The loft had one fairly large bedroom-a room with a bed fitted into it- and top of the stairs with just room for a single bed. Later a shed was built on its side. As Marged and William's family grew a kitchen and bedroom were built adjacent to the shed and at right angles to the house. There was also a small dairy at the back of the old house. The lavatory was away down the garden.

.... Being a one cow set-up 'Sgoldy had a separator in the dairy. Oh, how different to Cerrig Llwydon, my Mother's home. There after milking the milk was taken to the llaethdy (dairy) which was partitioned off by a few low planks to the coal!! Here the milk was poured into large shallow bowls and let to rest until the cream came to the top. The cream was then skimmed off and poured into a bowl where the cream of a few precious milkings lay waiting ready to be made into butter. In 'Sgoldy, after Doroth had milked, and enough milk had been kept for the use of the house, the rest was poured into a big bowl at the top of the separator and the handle turned. We knew somebody was turning the handle as it made a loud humming noise. Two spouts came from this machine- one carried cream and the other skimmed milk. The cream was made into butter in a churn and the skimmed milk fed to the pigs, with any other leftovers....

.... In those days, if you were friendly with a family they were called uncle or auntie, whether they were related or not. Surnames were almost non-existent, unless you were about to be buried. I lived with William Mashwn (mason), a mason by trade, and Marged 'sgoldy, who had always lived in 'Sgoldy. The only language we heard in Llanio was Welsh, unless a visitor came. A few evacuees were sent down to Llanddewi from Liverpool at the beginning of the war, but were so immersed in Welsh they soon learnt the language. Anti Marged was one of the kindest people I've ever met. She took us in and treated us like family. 'Sgoldy was also a calling place for tramps and there were quite a few of them. Tramps were men of the road, with no home for some reason or other. I remember two quite distinctly. I think he was called Twm Carnabwth, who to us was frightening. He wore a piece of sacking around his head, he was always given something to eat and then he'd murmer something and be away on his bike. The other was Dafydd gwallt hir ('David long hair') who was a very intelligent man, but he never took food in 'Sgoldy, a few pennies were enough, as he was particular from whom he took his food and drink. I remember him reciting huge chunks of Robert Burns's work to a Scottish lass that was visiting. One night Anti Marged had boiled a large saucepan of runner beans for our supper. It was a very cold and wet night, and before long we started seeing soldiers pass the door, not as a march, but a few at a time, sometimes alone. Of course Anti Marged took pity on the single ones, brought them in and fed them, talked to them, in no time at all, all the beans were gone. The soldiers were really tired and wet- Anti Marged opened up the 'sgoldy, and before long many a weary man found shelter and slept in the school room....

.... One of the things that brought everyone together during the war was the Welcome Home concert. If a soldier came home a concert was had and the proceeds given to the soldier. Their previous batch of children, except Doroth, had dispersed, and Tom and I were sitting targets for Wncl William and Anti Marged to start doing what came naturally to them, and teach us to entertain the troops!! We were taught to recite suitable words or sing quickly composed verses to a known tune, usually a welsh song.

.... Going to school was no problem- the school bus stopped outside the house and we didn't get wet waiting for the bus. The bus picked up passengers and messages on the way to school. Invariably there would be batteries to be dropped off to be charged at the haberdasher's (Arthur Morgan) and later picked up. Medicines and prescriptions were also carried. Occasionally a passenger would carry a sack with a cackling hen. I heard that a calf in a sack was taken on the Llangeitho bus. I think pupils paid for a season ticket. 'Jack y bws' was a most pleasant driver, always a smile and a joke, and we never gave him any trouble. Later he bought a larger bus and was joined by his wife, Nesta, as a conductress. The only conductress I've seen in this part of Wales.

Tregaron School was a grammar school; if you hadn't passed your 11+ you went to Peterwell School in Lampeter.... Books and papers etc. had to be paid for by the pupils' families. It was not unusual to see books with three or four names crossed out on them, as they were sold to or passed on to other pupils. Each child had a satchel, sometimes new, but usually handed down from other siblings. In it was a geometry set, the pride and joy of any first former! Also a fountain pen and Quink Ink. Quink ink was a new invention- washable ink....Fountain pens were a luxury and well looked after.... School uniform was a must- a navy blue gymslip with a square neck line and three box pleats all the way down, front and back. These were difficult to keep in shape after a wash and had to be ironed carefully with a flat iron- not electric as today! Black stockings and lace-up shoes. When I first went to Tregaron County we had to wear hats- which were discarded whenever possible. The boys who lived far away stayed in town during the week. Pupils were not allowed out late at night, but often disobeyed, and the boys enjoyed telling of how they wore caps and mackintoshes as disguises! The school was very small compared with many others- there were only about two hundred pupils, and many of these left school at 14 to work at home on the farm. The farms were much smaller in the forties and not mechanised so 'people power' was much needed. It was not surprising that children who sat for the general certificate were the brightest, richest, or had no occupation.

....In the meantime the end of the War came, and to my delight, Tom and I went home.

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