I was born in Bala in 1924, but came to live at Bryn Dethol, near the current golf course, when I was 7. My parents were Laura and Rowland Morris. I was one of 15 children with just Beryl and John younger than myself.

My parents farmed cattle, pigs, and sheep, and milked about 20 cows The milk was collected from the farm in a lorry each day. The farm was quite up to date having an indoor toilet and hot and cold water, as it had prevoiusly been owned by the Lloyd Jones family who owned the mill.

In later years Deryn Lloyd Jones used to collect orders to the farm and ask to go in to see the room where he was born.

As each child grew to young adulthood, they left home and had employment elsewhere, so the farm house was not as crowded as one might expect with 15 children in the family. It was a hard life. Even from an early age I was expected to do some useful work, starting by collecting firewood at weekends. On Saturday night we each had to clean our boots ready for Chapel on Sunday.

The boys went to the cattle markets, though the girls stayed at home, but it was everyone to help at lambing in the spring and at hay-making time. Generally in winter the boys did the heavy work outside with their dad and the girls stayed indoors- by this time this was Beryl and I. Mother made jams and pickles and we made our own butter. Eventually my Dad employed one man to help. He, Richard Humphries, came from the Oswestry area and lived in.

Wash day was a huge task. With a fire to be lit under the boiler for the boiling of whites, , and the dolly in the tub for other clothing, the rinsing, then the big mangle in the yard turned by hand, and the drying in fine or wet weather. This was followed by ironing, using irons heated in the fire.

We were a happy family. Even from 5 years old I walked to school with my brothers and sisters. Mr Parry- Morgan was the head teacher. If we arrived wet, he would send us down to the school cellar to dry our socks. Usually, by the time I was going to school, it was May, Beryl, John after he was 6, and Glyn.

I remember the May Day parades. One year Enys Jones was May Queen and I was one of the four bridesmaids. The others were Sheila Williams, Sheila Walker and Doreen Bailey. May Day was such a special day, there were crowds of people, many taking a day off work in order to come.

No-one will ever forget the war. One bomb fell quite close to our house. I was about 16 and remember that Mr Richards had to hide in the cellar. We used the cellar as an air-raid shelter. We used to hear the planes coming over the mountain and dreaded that thudding sharp note of their engines.

At 16 years old I started work at Llangollen Fechan, working for Mrs Bracket. My job was to clean (I still remember those large blue floorslabs) and to help care for her house full of visitors. I worked 8am to 4pm and earned 5/- a week (5 shillings). This money was handed over to mum who gave back a small amount as pocket money. One thing I particularly remember is that when the postman came to the Fechan, the letters were placed on a silver plate and I used to have to take them, knock at the door of Mrs Bracket’s room and offer her the mail on this plate. I ate at work- always the food left over after the guests had finished, but still we ate pretty well.

We never went on holiday, but did go twice a year on the Chapel trips to Rhyl or Llandudno. The early trips were taken by train, but after that there were buses.

We had to look after our clothes as they had to be handed down. A lady came to the farm to help mother make our dresses. Very occasionally we went to Wrexham for clothes. There were two shoe shops in Llangollen, Dicks and Merion house.

We used to save our pocket money as children, but only very occasionally bought sweets after school. Presents at Christmas were placed in a stocking.

There were good doctors in town- two surgeries each with one doctor.

I met Tom Morris, my husband at the Young Farmers Club, where my sister had already met her husband. Tom lived at Maengoren at Llantyslio. We were together for 53 years. He came from a large family and has a brother and sister still living in the area, but since my younger brother John (John Bryn Dethol or John Electric), died last year in that dreadful fire, I am the last of my generation of the Morris family of Bryn Dethol Farm.