As a young lad I spent many hours in the company of my grandfather Dai James, from 3 Oakdale Terrace, Lower Penmain. I remember vividly sitting beside his roaring fire, including one day a week in the summer, (Bath Day) The room was totally inert with smothering warmth from the fire, which removed all the available oxygen and was scented with the odd puff of smoke called "a blow back". No noises apart from muffled speech from number 4 and the crackling spits from the fireplace, no television noise just "a calm feeling", difficult to put down in words. I can visualise Grump now, round peaceful smiling face, rosy red cheeks (probably from the intense heat) not a care in the world looking at the Western Mail and commenting on current issues as if I really knew what he was talking about at 6 years old. I felt so safe there.

One thing was sure and Guaranteed, sometime soon he would put down the paper, light his pipe with a swan vesta, pause and search his vast memory for a story of interest, almost certainly involving "The Pit" a blend each time of danger, mystery, humour, sorrow and human characters of all types, shapes and sizes. He was so proud to be associated with Coal Mining. I remember these words:- "Nowhere on earth could you wish to work with such a loyal bunch of men" I can only remember a few stories from those days and this has really led me to initiate this topic. Where am I coming from…??. There are many Miners alive today with tales to tell, and MY interest still remains.

These memories need to be “Put down on paper” for future generations to sample the Experiences of our "Pitmen" if only in word. I would encourage all generations who can remember to join into the subject whether they are tales first hand or like myself second hand lacking a little passion.

Ok the Proof of the Pudding is in the eating!!! "The White Room"

This is a tale from the bowels of the Oakdale Pit. It goes something like this.

Apparantly there was an old engine/winding room deep underground which for some reason was abandoned well away from the area of current action, in fact it was "Bricked up" several years earlier. For some reason this area was re entered and made safe in order to conduct some exploration. The entrance to the room was sealed some years earlier. My Grandfather and a few "Butties" proceeded to break down this fortified wall. When the dust eventually cleared they cautiously entered this remote chamber,and................... they were ALL totally speechless!!!! The room suddenly came alive with light, in fact they all jumped back frightened!!!!

My gramp thought someone had "Left the lights on" and expected someone to be sitting down reading a book or something. The brightness was simply the reflective light off their helmet lamps, The Walls, Floor Ceiling and absolutely every single inch was covered in a thin layer of "Snow White" Fungie, the only source of life was large gangly spiders feeding on algie I suppose. This story has always stuck in my mind.

Not quite the same without the Roaring Fire and the Aromatic Scent of Gramps "Clan Tobacco"