Post by lionel on May 20, 2014 17:50:40 GMT 1
I was eight years old in 1939 when World War II commenced. The lake in Cyfartha Park had been drained so as not to be a landmark for German aircraft. My mother took me and my friend Brian Duke who lived next to me in Garden City, and my five-month-old brother in his pram. Brian and I wandered down to the dried-up lake and decided that the dried mud would be ok to walk on which we did. A short distance from the edge Brian tripped and pushed me in to the soft mud in to which I quickly sank up to my waist. Brian was able to extract himself but I started to shout as I was sinking deeper and deeper. Help came in the form of a young man in his Sunday best suit and swiftly pulled me out of the mud and returned me to my now frantic mother. To this day I do not know who he was. My baby brother was removed from the pram and I was deposited in there despite the mud. Brian walked home beside me caked in mud and fortunately I did not know what his parents said when my mother took him home. I never heard the last of it especially as I had lost my shoes in the thick mud and they are probably still there>
