For anyone who knows my Father, you know he has the gift of the gab, which is defined as the ability to speak easily and confidently in a way that makes people want to listen to you and believe you. He is quite the entertainer! This blog is being started to record his memories of family and friends through the MANY, MANY photos he has taken throughout the years. Beginning with black and white slides, to coloured slides, to printed photos, and finally to the digital age. I'd like to be able to keep this in chronological order, but with as many photos as there are, and as they are in such a hodgepodge state, it makes it rather difficult. This will be written as though he's writing it, because he really will be! I'm just moving it over here so it will actually get posted and not "lost" out there. So here we go!

Thursday 13 July 2023

Dad's birthplace in Wales

 A few minutes past night, I was born in this little house on the far right on Bridgend Road in the village of Garth, Wales. My great grandfather had built the houses for his three daughters and at the time of my birth, Auntie Maggie (a feisty old gal you would never wish to cross), lived at the other end. The houses were sandwiched between the library and chapel but both have regretfully been demolished. Sadly, the awful Crittall & Winter replacement windows detract from the simplicity of the granite and slate tiles.
In this little house (with just three bedrooms and outside privy) my grandparents raised their seven children with strict obedience to the sabbath.



My mother, who had come down from London to give birth, witnessed a tragic accident that afternoon when a little boy was fatally run over by bus outside the house and she went into labour from shock. I was born in the same bed as my mother, and in the same bedroom where all my aunts and uncles were also born.


Great Grandfather in Germany

On Mom's side of the family - 
Hereunder, pictures of your great grandfather, August Ferdinand Julius Neth who died in France
during World War I on 21st March, 1918 at Lanicourt between Arras and Cambrai. Important for you
to be aware of your family tree.
Uncle Uli spent one summer in France hunting for his grandfather's grave as nobody knew where it was.  As
you can see from the second picture, he found it and was able to take pictures back to his mother, who
was nine years old when her father was killed. 



A Promise Made is a Promise Kept

A promise I made to myself in my teenage years,  should I ever have a family, they would never lack photographs. A promise that has been kept, but so many taken over the years I doubt the children will see them all. 
What fun it as been and so many memories which otherwise would have been lost. All the family photographs required a tripod and the patience of Job, as our children, not forgetting the grandchildren, were not always cooperative!