Dilys Paes

My Parents

My name was originally Dilys Elizabeth Morgan and I was born on 18 August 1929, the second child born to Howell and Rachael Morgan. My father originally came from Cardiff and he had two sisters. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I never met Dad’s family. There was some family upset and this is ancient history of which we know nothing, and perhaps it is best left like that. My mother was born in Aberdare in Glamorganshire, South Wales.

Mum was one of 6 sisters and a brother. She was next to the youngest. My grandfather was called David and my mother Elizabeth. My grandfather worked in a mine, and became an official at the mine, but was killed in a mine accident. These accidents unfortunately happened very often. My Grandmother was left with one son and six daughters. The youngest daughter was Auntie Liz, Elizabeth of course, and she was a babe in arms when my mother was 2 years of age.

My grandmother had been an invalid for the later part of her life and died around about 60 years of age. My mother was an orphan by the age of 16 and was brought up by her 4 older sisters. They lived with auntie Fran in a part of Aberdare called Abernant. Abernant was always thought to be a little bit higher in importance than the rest of Aberdare, but I don’t know why, but that was where Mum was brought up. By this time, her sisters and brother were married and had children. Some were quite near to Mum’s age and she had a wonderful time with them. They often talked about Auntie Rach and loved her very much.

Dad, in the meantime was called up to serve in the First World War. Mum said that he cheated on his age as he was keen to join up, and he fought the battles in North Africa. Mum did tell a tale, and Mum could tell tales, that Dad’s ship was torpedoed in the Mediterranean and Dad and a couple of his friends were picked up after several hours in the water by a fishing boat. Several weeks later, he met up with his particular part of the army and he was given a choice of either staying where they were posted or go forward to join his particular regiment at the front. Being a somewhat wise person, I suppose, he decided that he would stay where he was and he joined the people working in the kitchens and became an assistant cook. In fact, he became quite good. As he said, he was the only man that could make a jelly set in the desert! Anyway, eventually he had to join his regiment at the front and it was many years after we had grown up, and in fact I was married, when Mum and Dad were staying with us in Edge Lane, that he told us the tale of his regiment advancing and going over the top and coming face to face with a Turk. Both had their bayonets drawn, they both lunged and it was Dad who killed the Turk, and I don’t think he ever got over it. It was a terrible shock to him.

Dad caught malaria which was with him for several years. In fact, it interfered with what should have been his career in music, and he had a wonderful voice. He could also play the piano and played the organ beautifully. Malaria stayed with him for several years after the war and at his first concert he had an attack and he never had the courage to continue as a solo artist ever again.

In the twenties, unemployment was rife throughout the country, especially in South Wales. He and Mum moved around looking for work and during this time they had a baby. My older brother Bill was born to them and with Bill they went all over the county. They came to England and Dad did all sort of jobs, and I believe at one time he was even a milkman. They did eventually return to North Wales, to Anglesey, a small island off the North Wales coast, to a place called Llangefni. Mum had all her sisters still in South Wales and Auntie Fran came up to Llangefni not long after they settled there, to stay and have a holiday with her daughter Mair. I understand that they were managing a sweet and tobacconist shop which sold papers and magazines. They lived in a flat over the shop.