Quiet Womans Row

61 Raglan Street

This was Raglan Streets last stand, at least it was as far as we were concerned. Our beloved family home for decades, now in tatters with just hours to go before the bulldozers arrived, and the man with the brief case claimed another "slum cleared" from poor depleted, forgotten Pill. There were no more plants in the garden or chickens in the run to give us our daily egg on which we circumnavigated the miriad of cracked paving stones en route to Tredegar Wharf and Bolt Street schools. What distemper was left on the skullery walls was now freely crumbling away as indeed we were, on that sad day in 1976. For months we had lived out of boxes, only the bare essentials finding their way onto the kitchen table. The tin bath in which we had soaked in turn, before bright fires of best Welsh cobble, hung in it's rightfull place on the garden wall. I suppose the new egg box will have a bath even if it doesnt have proper windows or a decent coal fire.
Oh dear! men with suits, what have you done to our street , our community?
Jan Preece

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