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Donald F Rees 14th June to 18 April A rare span of years indeed. From the end of World War I through World War II, moving from the glory of the British Empire to its steady, grinding dismemberment, moving from social stratification to a collecting house of its colonial components. Britain had enjoyed industrial leadership with its abundance of fuel and cheap labour and its steady flow of innovative genius.
To a high measure, its mastery of the seas had protected its markets. As the sun set on those halcyon days, the sun shone on my simple life. Lundie was seven years my senior and we got to know each other better as time progressed. Connie was only two and a half years older, so we were destined to share a great deal.
Con was a lovely sister, a humourist, a superb dancer, a good golfer and I loved her. In the early days, of course, she had to shuttle between being a nurse to a snivelling younger brother and also a confederate in crime. She could be a bit of a cowgirl as well as a princess!
A series of interesting circumstances had taken my father from living in London to Gladsmuir, West Cross, Swansea, near the Mumbles seaside resort. When we left, I was still young but I remember much about it. It was constructed of reinforced concrete with pebbledash finish. It was a home without electricity or telephone, but a home with a railway that ran at the bottom of the garden. The Mumbles Railway then ran from Mumbles Head to Swansea right along the seafront, pulled by an old Puffing Billy, an ancient steam engine, with three tram cars in tow going at the extraordinary speed of 15 miles an hour, slow enough for Lundie to jump on and ride it to school in Swansea.
