My first real memory, and the only one I have of living in my parents then home in Port Talbot in Wales was of watching my father and uncle transporting rubble and dirt from outside our house up steps and around to a backyard. I must have been about four years old at the time. Our house was elevated about eight feet above street level, a set of steps leading up to the house itself with a lawn at the front and a steep backyard leading on to a mountain.
Although I don’t remember the specific incident it turned out that the day prior to this memory, I was on the lawn outside when the barrier wall collapsed onto the street taking about half the lawn and earth with it. According to my mother years later, the ground gave way but stopped doing so in front of me with about two feet to spare. Had I been any closer to the edge (where it stopped) I would have gone with it. The memory I have is of my father and uncle clearing up in the aftermath, the event itself being caused by an underground water pipe bursting and water building up underneath the earth.
To be fair, that single memory lasts (in my mind) for less than 30 seconds and I recall my uncle saying to me “you were lucky there boy weren’t you” but how accurate the memory itself is and whether I understood what he meant at the time is open to question. Nevertheless it is my earliest clear memory, other than vague i.e. a second here and there, glimpses of fleeting moments being pushed in a pushchair by my mother to various places.
This was to be, as stated at the start, my only memory of this house and I’ll expand on the reasons why in my next post.
As an aside, I could make these posts longer by describing the areas where I lived and I will do this at odd times but I wont try to specifically write posts purely on my surroundings.
Thank you for reading.