Hills of Home

The Summer before my 5^th birthday my sisters took me for a walk up to our local primary school so I could see where I was going in September.  It was a two room school with (at the time) outside toilets where the infant teacher was called Miss and the ‘big class’ teacher Master.  Some children were playing cricket in the yard; a couple of Middlesister’s friend, a girl a few years older than me and a little dark haired boy who was my age.  The girl and boy were the schoolmaster’s children. Merchmaster and Mabmaster.  

Mabmaster and I were in the same class from Infants up to the end of Sixth Form.  

Apart from the first year in grammar school, when Mab, Oldestbestfriend and Tylefach-Mawr went into 1W, the form for first-language Welsh speakers.   

Waiting for A’level results, and wondering whether I’d make the grades, I thought 

“Who am I going to talk to at the bus stop if I have to do another year and Mab’s gone to university?”

Our school year all went off to various universities, lived our lives, kept or lost touch.

Then came social media, curiosity about old schoolmates and a “Forty years on Reunion”.

We are now friends on Facebook and he posted this landscape* with an easy challenge.

From Facebook archives.

 

22 February 2016 at 17:16 

Mabmaster  · Bentonbag Where was this picture taken?  

Bentonbag Brynfedwen? or Penhill? or Hermon?

Mabmaster View from the road, half a mile from Hermon.

Bentonbag One of our family’s favourite drives.

Mabmaster Llyn y Fan in the background

Bentonbag Oldestbestfriend and I climbed up it once.  The steep side using sheep tracks like stairs.  Thank goodness it was a warm summer day.  We were probably in dresses and sandals.  Oh the foolishness of youth.

 *it is now my pc desktop

 Post Script 22/02/21

Mabmaster has  sent me this direct message:

"Just a footnote to your blog, you got one thing wrong, I had to go a back a year because I only had an O at A level Geography so had a full year on my own in the bus shelter. "

The Head of Geography, a man of decades of experience who had taught all my siblings, retired half way through our sixth form.  He was replaced by two teachers: someone who had recently returned to teaching after running his family's grocers shop, and another I don't wish to write about for fear of being sued.  Not surprisingly we all got far lower grades than anticipated and our Head Teacher spent a lot of time on the telephone to various university entrance officers and tutors during August 1975, persuading them to let us in.  I was one of the lucky ones.

Things were different in the Seventies!