From a talk with Sylvia in April 2010, and her notes written for a mother’s Union talk when she was living at 45 Hall street, Llangollen in 1990
Sylvia Potts was born in Liverpool, where she lived with her parents and brother Leslie, who is nearly nine years younger. Sylvia’s friend, Joan, was a cousin to the Bailey family of Llangollen.
Sylvia met John when she took a gift to Joan, who was suffering from appendicitis and was met at the door by a tall blond young man dressed in his cricket flannels. This was John, who was lodging with Joan’s family, while he was training as a policeman in Liverpool. He used to cycle past Sylvia’s house on his way to work and she would look out for him and wave.
She was invited to Johns 21st birthday party, and was allowed to go-just a little girl of 14 in party frock and shoes and best white ancle socks-as long as she was home by 9.30 pm.
Most guests did not arrive until 9pm, it being a grown up event, so her party was very short.
John came to the Potts household for meals and to do jigsaws with Mrs Potts, but eventually asked if he could take Sylvia, now 16, to the pictures to see "Victoria the Great".
She overheard her dad saying " "Certainly not she’s too young" and also hearing, from the landing, John’s aunt saying to my father " I’ll have you know that John Bailey is from a good living Llangollen family" to which my father replied that " he didn’t care where John Bailey comes from. He was still not going to take his daughter out."
Rules were relaxed, but sadly war intervened. John joined the RAF, Bomber Command and Sylvia started nursing.
Sylvia continues;
Our nurses’ pay for the first year was £30 and we had to buy our own uniform and pay two guineas for our first state exam. We had a half day off one week and a full day off the alternate week. We worked 12 hours a day with 2 hours off to attend lectures.
It was through John that my family recieved their first invitation to stay in Llangollen,
My first recollection of a visit to Tan-y- Bwlch farm was arriving at the railway station in 1936 and gasping at the surrounding beauty of the mountains and the small town of Llangollen.
I enjoyed the scenery and staying at Tan-y- Bwlch farm, especially the aroma of the good food, which we all ate with gusto, cooked by Mother Bailey. She was a wonderful cook and a very kind lady. My father and mother and brother Leslie first stayed on holiday on the farm in 1937- a wonderful holiday; one to remember (as we were living in suberban Liverpool.)
John and I became engaged in October 1943 and planned to marry the following May, thinking that he would have finished his air raids and be grounded by then, and that all would be well. I went to see Matron in April 1944 and was told that I would have to resign from nursing, if I wanted to marry. Later these rules were changed, but at the time that was the hospital rule. This, my marrying problem, by mischance hit the press with details of "Nurse Training wasted by hospital regulations", and a romantic story about a "nurse and an airman". We were all horrified at this publicity, but it did lead to questions being asked in parliament). During the war neither teachers nor nurses were allowed to get married.)
We were married in Llangollen Church on May 18th 1944.
I went to live in Lincolnshire in Mrs Rees-Thomas’s old home, not far from the aerodrome where John flew from, and I nursed at the hospital. ( Mr Rees-Thomas was Head at the school on Regent street in Llangollen) Unfortunately John had not finished flying, and this was just before Dday, when we were having heavy RAF losses. One night over 90 bombers were lost with seven crew members in each plane. Lots of happeningsand many memories- many sad but some happy.
While John was on an adjutants’s course, after he had finished flying, I stayed at Tan-y- Bwlch for a few months and helped Lib Lloyd Jones with the school children who were evacuated to Tyn Dwr from Liverpool.
Arthur used to meet me of an evening, and we would walk home together. I was always frightened of the dark. However one evening a lady, who we all knew, caught up with us on Barbers Hill and said " it’s funny a brother-in-law going out with a sister in law" " We do eveything together Mrs X, in fact we even share the same bedroom" teased Arthur "Well, wouldn’t think your mother would mind" came the reply.
Prior to demob we lived at Wellington, Salop, staying with the Bebb family on their farm and I was nursing at a local hospital, and then at Glatton Aerodrome near Peterborough which was John’s final posting as an Adjutant. I enjoyed my stay here too, with a lady called Toddy. I did enjoy service life.
John decided that he didn’t want to stay in the RAF, nor return to police work. He wanted to return to Llangollen to run Tan-y–Bwlch Farm. That is what happened. We moved there in 1946
I was not sure about this move - but it was what John wanted, and I was deeply in love, so that was it.
I was an immature young girl and thought romantically of Tan–y-Bwlch farm with its paraffin lamp lights, candles and large coal fires and those wonderful comfy feather beds! All very wonderful when staying on holiday, when all daily happenings were such a novelty- but very different when we went to live there in 1946. Mr and Mrs Bailey, Arthur, Doreen and Eileen were still living there until they moved to Cae Madoc a few months later.
Many a time I revealed how "green" this town girl was when it came to country ways.
One sunny day on an early visit I met Arthur walking up the yard, through the farm gate with a cow and I asked him where he was going. "Taking the cow for a walk" says Arthur. I offered to go with him and, although Arthur tried to dissuade me otherwise, I made up my mind to go for a walk with the cow. I remember walking along past the Gerraint and I did say "I’ve never heard of a cow going for a walk". Where-upon Arthur replied " Oh they like a change the same as we do" and it was not until we arrived at the home farm at Vivod, where I had to wait outside, that I knew something different was happening, but not sure what and, when I was told on the way home, I burst into tears, through embarrassment, I suppose. In those days cows were taken to the bull (No AI then). It taught me my first lesson of farming- "Never take a cow for a walk."
Over time I planted potatoes upside-down, or so Mr Bailey teased me. I weeded out the spring onions, only to see them wither when I tried to replant them. I took the pigs buckets of warm water because I felt sorry for them: watched the wrong cow about to calve. (I was asked to check it every half hour, while John was at a council meeting, but saw a cow lying down and my Dad and I kept our careful eye on that one): and I got flicked in the eye with a cow’s tail when I tried to milk. Doreen did say that they would always remember when I planted the rockery with the large plants at the front and small at the back. "But you did very well "say Doreen.
The early years at the farm were hard. So much new to learn and a struggle financially! I think back and wonder if I had taken a part time job, to make us more financially secure, I would have been happier.
I learned to scrub floors, wash with the aid of the boiler, which was coal burning, two large tubs, glass rubbing board, dolly peg and a large wooden rollered mangle. Sometimes the boiler would spill over and put out the fire and I would have to relight it.
Cooking was done in two ovens, one each side of a large open fire. I hadn’t been able to practice cooking in the war years, since ingredients were too precious to risk failure, but Mrs Bailey was a wonderful cook and taught me everything I know. Eventually we had a Rayburn cooker.
Since the ovens were hot from the fire, the cooking often took the form of oven cooked hotpots and soups. There were always plenty of home grown vegetables.
At threshing time we would cook for all the men- a good hot dinner and cakes for tea. The food at Tan-y- bwlch was rated the best. Mother Bailey cooked large meat joints and was known for her wonderful gravy. There would be at least six large apple pies and piles of fairy cakes and buns.
Much food at the time was preserved by bottling in kilner jars- tomatoes, plums etc. The farm had an orchard with apple, pear and plum trees and we would pick wild whin berries and blackberries, so there was always plenty of fruit.
I learned how to black lead the big old grate; fill the parafin lamps and other household tasks of a working farmhouse. One of my jobs was to feed the hens and collect the eggs. I used to wear John’s old gloves to push the hens face away from me while I was putting my hand under the hen to collect the eggs. I was scared of the way they looked at me with their beady eyes. I also kept 17 hives of bees.
There were 1000’s of snowdrops round the house and I used to make bunches of about 25, with a little sprig of ivy. These would be packed in boxes and collected by Bailey’s (distant relative only) egg packing company, and taken for sale at Liverpool. I would recieve 2d a bunch and saved this money up one season to buy a macintosh (between £5-6.)
We were "lit up"- having electricity installed, in 1952. This made life a lot easier.
John was quite involved in Llangollen life. He was on the town council, a bell ringer and member of the choir, church warden, secretary of the sheepdog trials and member of the liberal club.
The local game wardens knew I was nervous of the dark and used to tap on the window when they went past the house.
One night when John was at a council meeting and I was alone at home, listening to the radio when a story teller called Valentine Dyall, with a lovely deep voice and known as "The man in Black" was telling one of his stories called "Appointment with Fear".He was talking about a hand creeping down the stairs, when there was flickering of the light and a tapping on the window and wanting to hear the rest of the story, instead of turning off the radio, I panicked.
I dialled "O" on the telephone and the operator said "number please". "I’m frightened" I said. Where are you, my dear" " I’m halfway up the mountain" "Dear me what are you doing there"
"I live here" I tearfully replied.
However he kindly talked to me and told me to go to look out of the window. It was pitch black outside, but a rose bush was being blown against the window, hence the tapping. I did feel a fool. The operator, a Scotsman, rang several times and had a chat with John- no doubt concerned and curious about John’s strange wife. He was very kind.
To help finances, we took paying guests during the summer months and from time to time we would let the end of the house at £1 per week.
It was a great place for children to grow up, and John was happy, but I have to admit that I found life on the farm quite hard.
To some degree it must, eventually, have been a case of" City girl made good in the country."
I joined the dramatic club and the Drama society and was in the first performance after the war.- The pirates of Penzance, in March 1947. I have photos of some of the performances between 1947 and 1960.
Roger was born Dec 22, 1947 and I was in hospital for Christmas-no straight home in those days. Robert was born in Broadgreen four years later and Mark was born in 1960 in Llangollen Hospital.
We moved from Tan-y-Bwlch farm in 1961 and stayed at Pendyffryn for a while. My father died in 1961 and my mother, not well, came to live with us, following six months in the Maelor Hospital. She made her home with us, now at the Hollies, Birch Hill, until her death in 1979. John worked at the mill and then the farm shop. We moved home from the Hollies to above the farm shop and then to Hall Street.
As John retired from farming due to ill health, I started to work at the Dr’s surgery where I worked for 20 years- initally for Dr Benjemin, but then for Jack Davies,( Rhys’s father), Dr Wyn Jones, Dr Gary and Dr Beresford. In those days the surgery covered as far afield as Rhos and Glyn Ceriog.
Sadly John died on 28th March 1992, and with support from friends and family, have settled near to my brother in a comfortable bungalow.
In 1998 I was pleased to recieve an invitation to the Queens garden party- a wonderful memorable day. The press tried to rake up the old 1944 story, may-be to do with 50 years of the NHS, but yet again I avoided publicity, and put down the phone when they rang for details. I really want only a quiet life.
(as I transcibe Sylvias notes on two talks given to the Mothers union, I recall that as I trained as a nurse in the 1960’s, we were not allowed to get married. A friend did marry, but kept it hidden until her training was complete. She was awarded the "Gold Medal" that year.)
Sylvia identified most of the people on the Opera production photos (below) but then went on to chat a little longer. Some of the detail I have included already.
With her brother Les also there, they talked about;
Les arriving at the station at 6 years old and his surprise when the "why walk" taxi was an ordinary car. When asked where the farm was the taxi driver pointed up the mountain.
From Sylvia’s window today she has a clear view of Tan–y- Bwlch Farm on the hillside above. They mentioned a quarry above the house, where the stone for the buildings had come from, and a gully on the hillside known as " Kill me quick". How it got its name was slightly disputed, but Les thought that the pilot of an old wood and canvas plane thought he had seen the V of the main valley and headed up it only to crash as it closed in on him-this being in the 1930’s.
They remembered the Keeper, Victor ( Vic ) Mathews who lived over the other side of " Kill Me Quick".
Vic’s father was keeper for the Glyn valley.
Les talked about when they had asked him to pick bilberries.He, unknowing, spurned the small milk can he was offered, thinking it way too small, so Mr Bailey gave him a gallon container. Les managed to cover the base with about 1" depth of fruit.
One lovely memory, they mentioned, was of the wonderful family picnics held in the old quarry above the house.
Les also recalled that Caldecott press was started by Sir William Clayton Russell, in order to have a supply of seed packets. In time Bob Attenborough’s father, JB, and his brother took over the management and then JB became the owner and the name changed to Dobson Crowther.
Sylvia recalled that Doreen was artistic, making and decorating lovely cakes and aiding Sylvia to improve on her initial attempts at flower arranging.
She recalled what a hard worker Nora Hewitt was when she too worked at the Dr’s surgery.
There was a time when you could buy anything you needed in Llangollen and mentioned in particular Jonathans and Ray Phillips, the taylor, (who stocked Jaeger), both of whom would bring clothes to your home for you to see and try on.