My letter to the Tenby Observer of 30^th October 1998:

Dear Sir,

With regard to plans for a new Tenby Lifeboat House and Slip as reported in the Tenby Observer.

My father, Alfred Cottam, was the Mechanic of the Tenby Lifeboat from 1933 to 1948.

Behind each brave and dedicated Lifeboatman there is a family. In our case seven children.

The small income he received kept us on the poverty line, shoes with holes, no socks in winter, no gloves, no rainwear, one small fire to warm the house. We huddled three to a bed to keep warm.

Blessed with our beautiful surroundings, kind neighbours and many friends, we were happy and proud of our father.

After many years of coping with the hardship, our pretty mother gave up and left us. After 1948 we never saw our father again.

We do not know where he died or was buried.

Exiles now scattered across the world we return like pilgrims to the Tenby Lifeboat House to honour our father and ease our loss.

We are just one Tenby Lifeboat family of that time. There were John Williams, George Hooper, Benjamin Richards, William Thomas, Ivor Crockford, John Rees, Frank Hooper, Bertie Lewis, Fred Harries, Alexander Harries, Thomas E Lewis, their families, and many more before and since.

Can you imagine what it means to them personally? It is on par with destroying the War Memorial which stands to remind us of our other brave townsmen.

Have your new Lifeboat House and Slip - too good a chance to miss - but please try to keep the old one, even if part of the Slip has to go.

Without our roots none of us has any future or sense of belonging.

In today's society where money is the main God, treasure the high principles of your good townsmen, Lifeboatmen, one generation after another of the same families who give the ultimate a man can give, the risk of their lives to save others.

My father Alfred Cottam, only child of a mother who we never met, and a father never spoken of, was born in 1895 in Middlesborough.

His mother, who was devoted to him, put her handsome and intelligent son to a naval career. He became a communications' officer and served in submarines in their early days. On one fateful dive, the submarine burst its sides. They managed to surface and were eventually rescued by the Lifeboat. My father vowed then that in return for his life he would devote his working life at sea to saving others.

He had navigation qualifications and was also a marine engineer and radio operator. He had met my mother when on leave in London. She lived in Millwall, one of sixteen children. He had taken lodgings in the house next door. My mother Annie Ethel Webb was very pretty, she had auburn curly hair, blue eyes, slim build with beautiful skin. My father was tall, dark and handsome and they fell passionately in love. So much so that they had made love before he went back to sea, and on his next leave they married as my mother had fallen for a baby.

When you write of things that happened sixty odd years ago you realise how things have changed in our society. In this family story we have to remember that our parents were descended from the Victorian era and had all those inhibitions instilled in them. What a great part this plays in their lives. It was therefore unusual that my mother when talking to her daughters told us quite openly that she was pregnant when she married and wore a pretty pleated cape to conceal it. We just accepted it without question.

My eldest sister Dora Elaine was born in 1922. A very pretty baby, a replica of my mother except that she would grow much taller.

In 1925 my mother gave birth to her second daughter Joyce Adelaide, nearly eleven pounds in weight, full set of teeth and thick black curls - quite a baby. Despite the birth pains my mother must have endured she named her Joy, and what joy she has brought to those who have known her great love and loyalty.

Another two years hence mother had her third daughter Margaret Rose called Peggy. Fair, slight and ethereal with the sweetest of natures but with an inner strength none attributed to her until her adversities in later life.

My sister Barbara Jacqueline came along as a matter of course two years later. Another big baby with dark curls and a happy loving nature, bit of a tomboy but very maternal.

Keeping to her fertile pattern mother's fifth daughter was Beryl Gwendoline Mary, nine and a half pounds in weight and a mass of fair curls. Another tomboy with a strong maternal instinct. This was a difficult time for mother as her health failed her. She had pleurisy and phlebitis as well as the birth to contend with along with five children in a London flat. My father was at sea most of the time and his money did not always come through. Mother got involved with a money-lender in order to feed the family.

The elder girls had to answer the door to callers and take bedding and clothing to the pawnshop regularly. They then had only coats on their beds to keep them warm and more often than not not enough food to eat. The flat they lived in looked over the East India Docks. Only the living room floor boasted lino floor covering, the other rooms were bare boards. Times were hard, they like many others were caught in the poverty trap.

Dora was like a little mother to the younger ones, as was expected of her. One day she had been sent on an errand (dad had been doing some work in the hall standing on a chair) and she fell, and banged her knee very badly but had to limp away on her errand. In our home children did as they were told regardless. After a few weeks her knee was still very swollen and stiff. It was discovered that she had an inner abscess and had to go to Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital and have the leg operated on. This left her with a long scar on her inner leg.

On a happier note for the children, there was a park opposite the flat that they could play in. The park attendant was a friendly man, when they sat on the big long swing together he sang the old Cockney song to them: "Ain't it grand to be blooming well dead." Just the thing for little children, but they loved it and him.

Joyce longed for a doll's pram. The park attendant said he'd buy her a doll and a pram one day. Working class people were so poor, a roof over their heads and food in their bellies was the most they could hope for and afford. Clothes were well worn, only replaced when in pieces and then by second-hand garments.

Trouble with a woman money-lender occurred one memorable day. She called at the flat for her money payment which mother didn't have. Afraid after repeated loud knocks mother told the children to hide under the table. The woman started shouting through the letterbox: "I know you're in there." Thinking of the neighbours, mother took courage and opened the door, quick as a flash the woman struck out like a man and punched her in the face. She had gold sovereign rings on her fingers, which made the blood pour down mother's face. The children were crying and so afraid. The woman took mother by the hair and dragged her into the street, where she left her, jumped on her cart, whipped the horse and off she went. The children had to help mother in and bathe her face. At a later date mother took the woman to Court for assault, but being so poor they were so vulnerable.

When you don't have very much, your health is your greatest asset. Their hardiness taken for granted by most. When Beryl was born and mother had pleurisy and phlebitis, father had an accident on one of the ships and broke his ankle. He was hopping about the flat; mother was in bed ill, forbidden to move a finger in case of blood clots. The midwife attending to the baby had not tested the bath water and put Beryl into a very hot bath, blistering her bottom. Dora the eldest was to stay and look after the three invalids, and Joyce, Peggy and Barbara were sent to Grandma Webbs' house to ease the domestic situation. She did not really want them, and Joyce became upset, it was her first time away from home, and nerves took over, to the extent that she stated that she couldn't walk. No matter how they enticed her, she couldn't walk. Mum's sister Olive carried her to the shop and bought her some sweets, a rare treat. Still she couldn't walk. Grandma Webb was obviously worried, as she had Joyce in her bed that night. One of Joyce's problems was a weak bladder, she wanted to go to the toilet in the night. The toilet was at the bottom of the garden. Joyce just got out of the bed and went. Grandma Webb was not amused. The next morning they were all packed off back home. Joyce didn't know if it was fright or insecurity or what it was, but it was not a childish trick, they were too strictly brought up for that. She just could not walk.

During this time in London Joyce doesn't remember any unkindness or beatings, they were to come later.

Father had joined the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) as a Marine Engineer. He was sent to work short-term in Aldeburgh, Suffolk. The family were to go with him for their first seaside holiday.

They made the journey with dad by sea. On a big boat this was quite a long journey, down the Thames along the Kent and Essex coasts into the North Sea, to Suffolk. It must have been quite rough as they were all seasick. Ill luck did seem to dog them.

They stayed in a boarding house on the sea front but as the children developed whooping cough, which was highly infectious, they were asked to leave to protect the other guests. They spent the rest of the holiday in the sail-loft of a boathouse on the beach. Sleeping on ropes with old canvas sails covering them, coughing their hearts out, they were glad when it was time to go home. Only then they were all sick again.

They must have been brave as they did have a second holiday during their time in London. This time the destination was Margate, also because of the Lifeboat. It was nice and sunny weather and they spent their days on the beach. Joyce found a silver sixpence in the sand, quite a lot of money in those days. Mother asked her to give it to her to buy food for them but Joyce wanted to buy mother a gift, which she did, just some silly trifle.

They once had an unexpected treat when at Christmas they went to the cinema and whilst queuing to get in, a charitable person gave each child a big Jaffa orange and a marzipan fish. They thought this wonderful.

Joyce had made friends with some Jewish children at school and was invited into their home to play. One day she was frightened as their father came home and chased the mother around the table with a carving knife. For what reason as a child she did not know, but mother did not allow her to go there again.

Father had received a posting through the RNLI to go to the Tenby Lifeboat Station (in Pembrokeshire, South-West Wales) as a mechanic. The position also entailed maintaining the Lifeboat and Boathouse full-time. It is the only paid position, as the rest of the crew are volunteers.

He was to find a suitable house in the town for his family, the rent for which would be paid by the RNLI and then deducted from his wages.

Laston House in Castle Square, overlooking Carmarthen Bay and next to the Lifeboat Station along the Castle Hill's cliff top pathway, was available and though well positioned for him he did not think it suitable for the children; he could see them falling over the courtyard wall into the sea. Four new houses had just been built in Broadwell Hayes so he chose one of those. Maudlin Villa was a semi-detached property with a drive at the side, a long garden for the children to play in and to grow vegetables and fruit to help feed them.

Suddenly the children found they were moving, from the only home they had known, they were to go on a long train journey - their first ever - to live in a new place.

On the morning of the departure, Joyce went over to the park to tell her friend the park attendant that she would have to have her doll and pram now as she was leaving. She was looking for him when Peggy called her and said, "You have to come home now Joyce we are leaving." Joyce thought that she would never get her doll and pram now and sad to say she never did get a doll's pram, none of us did. The most we aspired to was the rusty old frame of a pushchair, the wheels of which had been taken off to make a go-cart for our yet to be born brother Alan.

But life held more wonders in store for these children. Toys are only objects. Joyce doesn't remember much about the beginning of the journey on the train except that she seemed to fall about a lot with the movement, much to mother's amusement, she could giggle like a young girl at times which endeared her to us. However, after travelling all day they neared Tenby, and it was springtime and all the primroses were out on the railway embankment, she thought how wonderful it was to see all the green fields and trees.

They didn't know then that the garden of their new house went right down to the railway embankment, and in the future years their little feet trod a steep path down to it. They spent many happy hours at the fence watching the trains go by - and they were quite few and far between in those days. They would wave to the engine driver and guard, and excitedly shouting pretend that it was a ghost train. In naïveté they imagined that the smoke from the funnel rose up to form the clouds in the sky. All is imagination at that age of innocence, and what a blessing it is that we experience it.

In future childhood years they enjoyed the railway embankment to the full. Walking along it to the Folly Woods and fields where they could pick fresh mushrooms for mum. Tiny wild strawberries grew in the gullies. Lush blackberries on the brambles, they picked them by the basketful. Mother made jam and wine for Christmas. The wine was made in a large earthenware crock with toasted bread covered with yeast on top to ferment it.

They thought their new house and garden so exciting and spacious. The furniture van had not arrived so they had to sleep on bare floorboards the first night. But they were happy: the future showed promise, lots of exciting things to do. Pickfords delivered the furniture the next day. All long distance drivers in those days only drove so far, stopped overnight somewhere and continued the next day.

The house had three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. The landing and stairs were enhanced with a mahogany banister rail, and two side windows on the staircase made it nice and light. In the hallway the front door and side panels were inset with coloured glass, the sunlight sent such pretty patterns through them. The front sitting room had a bay window and window seat, and an oak surround fireplace with nice tiles. The rear living room had a Chatenette grate in the hearth with an oven, hotplate and backboiler. It was a lifeline on many occasions. The kitchen at the end of the hall had a red tiled floor, the sink was below the window, a large gas cooker and a pantry which ran back under the stairs. Outside, two side doors revealed a coal shed and outside toilet. Two toilets for this impoverished family was unbelievable luxury.

The garden was on a raised level from the house. It ran a long way back and had trees within the area, uncultivated as yet as the house had been built in a field.

How our parents came by their furniture, as they were so poor, I do not know (I was yet to be born) but it all came from London. It was all good quality and the only furniture we ever had. I feel it must have been bought with this house in mind. Perhaps dad had an allowance for this or they bought it on weekly payments, I don't know. There were two dining-room suites, two three-piece suites, two double bedroom suites and one single bed. Additionally two chiming clocks, some pictures and mirrors along with two square carpets, lino and stair carpet in a Turkish pattern of red and blue. The makings were there for a happy restart to life, a comfortable home in beautiful surroundings.

Somehow mother seemed out of her depth. They could never get her to come to the beach or the woods with them. She liked the garden, grew crops and talked to the neighbours. Tenby held out her welcoming arms to this well-mannered family, and the love that it instilled has lasted in our hearts all of our lives, and been consolation through our many hardships. Do beautiful places make beautiful people? I'm sure that they do.

The children of school age, Dora, Joyce and Peggy went to Tenby Council School in Greenhill Road [which in 1961 became Tenby County Primary School then in 1979 Saint Teilo Catholic Primary School; a new State School, Tenby County Junior School, having been built in 1977 on the outskirts of the town in Heywood Lane]. It was just a short walk from home down the Maudlins, across the Green and up Greenhill Road to the school. They liked the school. The classroom walls on the playground side, were partitions of wood and glass which were folded back in summer to let the sunshine in - what an innovation in those days.

The headmaster Ossie Morgan, was a strict man, and all in school were in awe of him. Discipline was tight and any break from it meant the cane, which he alone administered. Any child stepping out of line was sent to stand outside his room. Until dealt with ... this alone was a punishment. In retrospect I feel it was the best upbringing a child could have. Underneath we knew him to be a fair and kindly man who had a love of little children. During the War he had evacuees living in his own home. His example was reflected in his staff and children.

We did have one bully teacher, who shall be nameless. It caused amusement on one occasion when walking home for lunch. This same teacher was walking in front of us so we were aware of our behaviour, as most teachers appeared to have eyes in the back of their heads. Suddenly one pupil's mother, a large dark-haired lady whose son he had mistreated came down her path. She caught hold of him by the scruff of the neck and punched him in the face. We all ran and hid behind a wall, stuffing our cardigans in our mouths to stop the giggles. It nearly ended in a smack for us as we were late home for lunch, and it was 'bones' as we called it, neck of lamb stew.

In our cutlery drawer there was a teaspoon with a crest on it of the King's head. This was highly sought after by us children. On one lunch-time coming home, Beryl was very piously knelt in Prayer in the porch, "Please God let me have the spoon with the King's head." Barbara stepped over her and got it, such is life!

Our neighbours were so kind, and ranged across the social scale, from the so-called slums of San Domingo [now, with the old National School, the site of the multi-storey car-park] to the proprietors of Tenby's T P Hughes' department store, then Mayor and Mayoress, and Mrs Gibbons of Heywood Lane, and the Simons who had us into their lovely home to play with John who was to die so tragically in a plane accident. Mr Billings who had a picture framing shop in town, become to us a personal Father Christmas, as each year we found a sack on the doorstep with an orange, apple and new penny for each child; associated with the Lifeboat he had made friends with dad.

Dad was very clever with radios and could build one from scratch with his collection of spare parts. So he used to repair Mr Billing's and other townspeople's radios. In those days the case of a radio was made of highly polished wood and as dad's only transport was a bicycle with a little metal carrier over the back wheel, he had to take great care of them. Each radio was stitched into a sacking cover and strapped onto the carrier. Brought home to be repaired on the living room table, much to mother's aggravation as all evening she had to listen to 'whines and twiddles' or the smell of solder, the soldering iron was heated in the fire. As the table boasted a red plush cloth with tassels, we children often crept under it, and imagined we were in a strange craft, with all the noises above our heads. Dad was a creative man, well educated, and earned a few shillings with this hobby, but any poor person who said they couldn't pay him were just told to forget it.

Like everyone our father had many facets to his nature. He expected us children to be obedient, well-mannered, well-spoken, kind to each other and caring. Our table manners were second to none, and we have all grown up to be grateful for this, as we were readily accepted anywhere to set an example to the other children. Regardless of our scruffy clothing and I'm sure not clean limbs at times.

My sister Joyce encountered cruelty from father on some occasions. As she would be beaten by him with his leather belt. Once so hard that she bled. He must have realised that he had exceeded himself as she was bandaged and kept in bed for a week. Dad had been a ship's doctor at some stage of his career, and all our ills were treated by him. The only person to have a doctor who had to be paid for was mother - plus of course the midwife had to be paid for in those pre-NHS days. Obviously distressed at the time Joyce can't make sense of this behaviour, as her wrong doings were minor - coming home late from school. She feels mother was the instigator. When late home she would say, "Wait till your father comes home." Send her to undress until she was naked, and wait for her punishment, which was sometimes a long time as in summer dad would be showing visitors around the Lifeboat Station until nine o'clock.

She [Joyce] feels that this was some twist in mother's genes. In those days the father always metered out the punishment, the stick or the belt was not uncommon, but this was bordering on abuse and should never have happened in a well-balanced household. It hurts me to relate it as I have no wish to think ill of my father, who was my hero and has remained so, but this is a factual family story and it has to be told. It left an emotional scar on a dear sister, if not a bodily one.

By now it is 1935 and I the sixth girl was born on 2^nd October. With this event, as with all I have previously written, I only know details from what the elder girls can remember. After all the daughters it seems my mother would have preferred a boy, naturally enough. I was the ultimate feminine girl, although nine and a half pounds. I was small boned and doll-like, my dark hair extremely thick and long, my skin a deep tan. The Welsh midwife called me Topsy, this was the name you gave to a black doll in those days. Always at school when she saw me she would fondle my hair and call me her Topsy. I suppose she must have delivered a great many Tenby babies and kept her fondness for them. Our next door neighbours at that time were Mr and Mrs Bye and their son Edwin. In those days when a new baby was born neighbours and friends called to see it. Edwin was intrigued with me and asked my mother what she meant to call me. Mother replied that she didn't know as it was another 'blooming' girl and she had wanted a boy. She must have been down to use Cockney rhyming slang, as I can never remember her doing so. Edwin said: "Why don't you call her Avis?" Which she did, I got Olwyn - Welsh for white clover - as my second name. I was christened in Saint Mary's Church, Mrs Lemon from the Maudlins was my Godmother.

Born with a vivid imagination, a mind eager to learn and quite good recall. I can remember back to being in the pram and playing with the tassel type knobs on the sideboard. My sister Joyce, whom by now you will have realised was more like a mother to me than my real mother, recalls what would happen when I was dressed up to be taken for a walk by two of the elder ones. They would sometimes wheel me around the Serpentine Road to Heywood Lane, then one would get in each side of me in the big pram and free-wheel down the steep hill to the Green. All who know Heywood Lane will wonder how I survived!

I often wonder if this is why I am so timid about doing things, I certainly never inherited my father's courage, but survive I did. As the baby in a big family you are in a favoured position for a short while. You sleep in your mother's bed as it is easier to feed a hungry baby this way. With five sisters to see to me, I didn't want for attention and played the part of the baby in their games. The things I learned from my elder sisters put me in a forward position when I started school aged four.

On October 30^th 1937 my mother gave birth to a son at last, nine and a half pounds in weight. Alan Victor - she must have had Alan in mind for his name for some years and Victor was after a favourite brother of hers. Although only two, I can remember the night of his birth. I was taken out of my mother's bed and put in the big cot in the front room, the door of which was left open and the light on the stairs was filtering through the bars of the cot. I didn't like it. I knew something frightening was happening. After delivering a prefect baby boy, the midwife looked in to see me her Topsy. She said, "You mustn't cry, you've got a lovely baby brother." I said to take him back in that black bag, I want to be the baby ... which caused her to laugh as she bumped downstairs.

In fact, I cannot remember feeling jealous of my brother - love, sympathy and compassion were my emotions not jealousy. It was not easy to be a boy among six girls, as you can imagine. He fought for his manliness, when they tried to dress him up, to play with him as a doll. I can remember him at my mother's breast, little face red with crying. She had fed all of us and was proud of the fact, but after so many babies I don't think she had the milk for Alan. She was always trying and he was always crying. She soon pronounced him more trouble than all the girls put together.

He was her last child. To some extent he was my little playmate until I started school. He loved our spaniel Prince and we played in the garden, but as soon as he was old enough to feel his feet he was off barefoot to the woods. Catching rabbits like a little wild gypsy boy. He was friends with two brothers across the road, John and Tony Pilson, they had such kind parents and gave us such a lot of love. We will never forget them.

Alan was three months old, when our father was to take part in one of Tenby Lifeboat's most memorable rescues. I have to quote the details as I was only two myself.

In the early hours of January 15^th 1938 the phone rang for dad. The Coastguards informed him that the Lifeboat was on call-out, distress flares had been sighted out to sea off Saint Catherine's Island.

My father's sea clothes were always laid in readiness on the floor beside the bed, his size nine boots with thick white socks placed ready for his feet to slide into. It must be a mile or more from Broadwell Hayes to the Castle Hill and the Lifeboat Station. He had to cycle as fast as he could against a very strong wind and driving rain. Down the Maudlins, across the Green, up Saint John's Hill [nowadays a one-way street in the opposite direction] across the Norton and down Crackwell Street [again nowadays one-way] to the Lifeboat Station.

The conditions this morning were so bad ... he had to crawl on his hands and knees to get across the foot-bridge linking the Lifeboat Station to the Castle Hill, clinging to the wooden slats or he would have been blown away. Hurricane force winds and torrential rain. The sea was so rough ... it was breaking over the Napoleonic fortress on Saint Catherine's Island.

At 05:15 am within minutes of the first call the Tenby Lifeboat, of name John R Webb II, was launched on her fearful mission. Her crew anticipating a dangerous rescue, darkness and extreme weather conditions against them. Her Coxswain George Hooper was away at the time, his place taken by Second Coxswain John Rees.

Just handling the Lifeboat was a feat in itself in the severe conditions. Visibility was very poor due to the driving rain and spray from the waves. When they sighted the stricken ship they found her aground on the treacherous Woolhouse Rocks - which lie between Caldey Island and the mainland and are submerged at high water. She was identified as a coaster, the SS Fermanagh of Belfast.

The Lifeboat went into rescue procedure. Firstly to circle the ship, inspecting her position, checking for damage and searching for anyone in the water - priority always being given to these first. The ship seemed to be lying on an even keel and did not show signs of breaking up. The Coxswain decided it would be best to stand by and wait for better light, keeping a careful watch on any change in her position.

Within a short time of this decision the Fermanagh came off the rocks and was drifting before the gale. Her bows were up in the air and her decks awash two thirds of the way aft to her funnel and bridge. The Lifeboat crew could now see men aboard her.

The Acting Coxswain, John Rees, at once took the Lifeboat alongside her, handling his craft with great skill in the heavy seas, even so she could only stay alongside for a few seconds. In that short time the eight man crew of the Fermanagh were aboard the Lifeboat. My father told us that in order to exercise this feat the crew had to hook their feet in the scuppers and lean out with their arms outstretched, ready to grab any man who might not succeed in the jump.

It was then discovered that her Master was not among them. Before the Lifeboat had arrived he had launched the ship's boat, but with the heavy seas he had been swept away.

The Lifeboat had already searched around the Fermanagh as she lay on the rocks and seen nothing of the Master or the ship's boat. The rescued men were in a state of shock and exhaustion. The Lifeboat headed for Tenby arriving at 08:30 am - just three hours and fifteen minutes from launch. They landed the rescued men and then went back to search for the Master. They searched for a further two hours but could find no trace of him. The Lifeboat returned to Tenby at 10:45 am, she had been out for over five hours and her crew were severely shaken in the heavy seas. They had been in continual danger of being washed overboard, and two of them were nearly lost when the Lifeboat went into a deep trough.

The highest praise possible must go to any man prepared to offer his life to save that of another.

The crew were: Second Coxswain, Acting Coxswain, John Rees - awarded the RNLI's Silver Medal; Mechanic Alfred Cottam - awarded the RNLI's Bronze Medal; the rest of the crew - all Tenby men, they were from old Lifeboat families - Fred Harries, Thomas E Lewis, Frank Hooper, Alexander Harries, Bertie Lewis, Henry Thomas and James N Crockford - were awarded Vellum Certificates for Gallantry from the RNLI.

*****

Out of the blue as you might say, Eric Bancroft, Honorary Secretary of Tenby RNLI 1980-94 and now Honorary President (no nicer man has ever lived) was to encounter literature from one of the Fermanagh crew, John Macarthur the First Mate, of which he so kindly sent me copies. A marvellous man was the late John Macarthur, he died February 15^th 1992. I will relate his story now as it gives completion to the rescue.

John Macarthur first wrote to the RNLI two weeks after the rescue on February 3^rd 1938, expressing thanks on behalf of the crew, and thanking the Tenby Lifeboat for their bravery and endurance.

Forty-nine years later [1987] he wrote again. His son Alistair, now a grown man had come to Tenby on holiday and visited the Lifeboat Station to give thanks as he felt he too owed them his life. His father John had not mentioned the rescue to his two sons as they were growing up to any great detail. But as a man Alistair had asked him for more detailed information. He couldn't have asked a more able man to write, relate and draw from memory the crew's side of things.

John was of retirement age when he wrote, but his recall was fantastic. His wife had ill health and although he had always wished to return to Tenby he had been unable to do so. His story of the events are in italics as follows:

*****

*****

I wish this inclusion to my family story to be a tribute to John Macarthur and his family who kindly agreed to me using his written work. As well as to the members of the Tenby Lifeboat who made this memorable rescue possible.

However old we are, we never understand life, with all its beauty and cruelty. It is important for us living to pass on the experience of our betters. In the hope that they will set an example for the young generation to follow. They were all heroes of their time and it was history on our own shores in the making. Fortunately, we don't encounter these extreme conditions often.

It seems the bad weather continued for some time and prevented the crew from returning the Lifeboat to the Lifeboat Station until four o'clock in the afternoon.

Even then however tired they may be, the ship has to be put in order. Every detail as it should be - ready for the next call-out. Had it been the same day, these men would still have gone out, assuming they were fit enough and, if not, a reserve would quickly be found.

For my father there was no such thing as a day off. It was a seven day a week job, on call twenty-four hours a day. So your family life had its limitations. He did sometimes go to the Royal Playhouse Cinema - where he sat in a special seat, so they knew where to find him and the Coastguards would have been previously informed.

I follow with a verse of tribute to the Tenby Lifeboat.

*****

.

Living in a town as beautiful as Tenby, humble mortals such as we have a lot to live up to. It instils a pride in us and aspires us to do it justice in our actions.

It doesn't matter to some extent if our deeds are small and unnoticed. What matters is that we feel we have made a contribution.

Man is born to conquer and create in order to live and improve his life. In every generation certain men are born to be greater than others. Such a man, in our era in Tenby, was Charles Ivor Crockford.

Born in 1912 to a family with a long seafaring history, he was one of five sons born to Mr and Mrs James Rolfe Crockford. Christened Charles Ivor, he was always called Ivor. His life's interest was to be the sea.

He followed in the family tradition of Lifeboat Service, and joined the crew of the Tenby Lifeboat in 1938 as Signalman. He was twenty-six years old. My father had been Mechanic there for five years at this time. Ivor went on to become Bowman, Second Coxswain and finally Coxswain. He had spent his early years in the Merchant Navy and served in the Royal Naval Reserve.

One year after his joining the Tenby Lifeboat, it was 1939 and the outbreak of the Second World War, Ivor joined the Royal Navy. He was a young man of twenty-seven who already had years of seamanship to his credit. He was to go forth and serve his country in their time of need.

My father was exempt from this War Service because of his position as Lifeboat Mechanic.

During the War, Ivor saw Active Service and was commissioned in 1942. He took part in the memorable Dunkirk Evacuation and in the hazardous Normandy Landings when he commanded a tank-landing craft.

Right at the front line of battle, he served in the English Channel on motor torpedo boats. His bravery in this Service earned him a mention in 'dispatches.' So much one is called on to give for one's country in the time of War, for so little. I wanted as far as possible to praise our Tenby Lifeboat Heroes. It is only thanks to the written and spoken word that we are able to do so.

Any one of his valiant deeds was something a man fighting for his country could be proud of.

With Ivor it seemed wherever there was crucial action so was he. Plucked by fate to be at the helm. Chosen by the God he served.

The end of the War and one might think Ivor had seen enough of the sea and its hazards. But no, he was raring to go to sea. Anywhere in the world. Now in his late thirties and through the 1950s, he made a number of winter cruises to South Africa as quartermaster on the old Union Castle shipping line's Caernarvon Castle.

Back to Tenby now, but none the less enterprising, he was for many years one of our best known pleasure boat operators and introduced larger vessels to Tenby Harbour's fleet, despite opposition. The first of these was the Saucy Sue with a passenger load of forty-eight, and later the Enterprise which carried a hundred passengers.

In 1970 at the age of fifty-eight, he began a new venture, operating the motor vessel Tudor Prince from Hobbs' Point, Pembroke Dock, on cruises up the Milford Haven Waterway and the River Daugleddau.

I had a shop in Milford Haven at this time and I can remember this venture starting. It opened up a very beautiful river to many who had never seen it before, including locals.

The Tudor Prince was the largest pleasure cruiser in Pembrokeshire carrying one hundred and fifty passengers. Who else would be at the helm but Ivor?

Just two years prior to this, on one notable occasion on November 14^th 1968, Ivor, then Second Coxswain on the Tenby Lifeboat Henry Comber Brown, was at home convalescing after being in hospital for some time. But when the maroons went off, he rose and rushed to the Lifeboat to take command as he knew the Coxswain, William Thomas, was suffering ill health and was due to retire after forty-three years with the Tenby Lifeboat crew.

The Motor Mechanic, Leslie Day, had just retired after serving sixteen years service with the Tenby Lifeboat, eleven and a half of them as Mechanic. So Assistant Mechanic Raymond Thomas and Emergency Mechanic Brian Bolton, took his place and the Lifeboat was launched with a full crew.

In very heavy seas she battled her way to the stricken vessel MV Manta. The coaster's gears had broken down and the Lifeboat stood by while a tug took her in tow. They then escorted both vessels into Milford Haven.

The seas were too heavy at Tenby to allow the Lifeboat to be rehoused in the Lifeboat Station, so she moored at Pembroke Dock until she could return two days later.

Ivor Crockford's doctor later wrote that his action to this duty must have taken immense courage, with complete disregard for considerable pain and discomfort. After this he became Coxswain. James Bulley became Mechanic.

For his dedication to the Lifeboat Service, Ivor Crockford received a framed Letter of Thanks, signed by the Chairman of the RNLI Admiral Sir Wilfred Woods GBE. Assistant Mechanic Raymond Thomas also received a Letter of Thanks.

A true Christian, he devoted a great deal of his leisure time to the Tenby Charity Trustees, an organisation which administers funds acquired over the years from benefactors for the elderly and needy of the town.

His heart and loyalty towards his seaside home got him involved with local politics where he would lend his personality and strength to aid his fellow men.

He was elected to Tenby Borough Council, and during his eighteen years with this authority, he was elected as Alderman, served as a Deputy Mayor and had two terms of office as Mayor.

Never lordly. Versatile and friendly he gave his support to many of the town's activities: Tenby Rugby Club, Sea Cadets, Tenby Harbour Users' Association. He was a former President of the Chamber of Trade, a founder member of the Royal Naval Association and had early association with the Tenby Sailing Club.

Land or sea, wherever a ship needed steering, there was our worthy Ivor.

No intention of being inactive after retirement, he devoted a great deal of his leisure time and interest into helping at the Tenby Museum and Art Gallery on Castle Hill where he welcomed thousands of visitors with his affable charm and gave them the very essence of Tenby.

In my father's time with the Tenby Lifeboat, John R Webb II had been at the station for three years when dad was appointed Mechanic. He served until 1948. The John R Webb II continued in commission until 1955.

The new Lifeboat Henry Comber Brown was to be in service in Tenby for over thirty years. The Annual Lifeboat Service of 1986 was to be a colourful Service of Thanksgiving, held on the Castle Hill on Sunday August 1^st, to say a sad and fond farewell to this notable vessel.

She was especially launched for the occasion and took centre position in the bay between the congregation on the Castle Hill and the fortress on Saint Catherine's Island. Very moving. The Rector of Tenby, Archdeacon Dewi Bridges, officiated the Service. The lessons were read by the Chairman of the RNLI Management Committee Mr Jack Thomas and Tenby Councillor Mickey Folland. The hymns rang out over the beloved vessel and resounded on the rocks and caves of the island. What a fitting tribute for a ship that had helped to save so many lives.

I would like to end this tribute to this fine man, Charles Ivor Crockford, with an extract [page 41] from some of his own reminiscences as it typifies his personality and the manner in which he conducted his life.

No lowly position was too low for him, and no command too high. In this alone, he was a great man.

I quote from Tenby RNLI records: "As the Henry Comber Brown leaves her service in Tenby, several former members of the crew were looking back on the times they manned her and the tales they had to tell, including a well-known former Coxswain Ivor Crockford, who was on board her for her sea trials and initial voyage to Tenby."

Like the Henry Comber Brown herself, Ivor had actively served with the Tenby Lifeboat crew for over thirty years; serving with his father, brother, two sons and seven nephews - who now carry on the family's Lifeboat tradition in Tenby.

Ivor remembered that during the 1955 trials, he held the important position of Cook, being responsible for providing three square meals for the crew, despite a bout of seasickness on board.

His first impression of the boat was that she threw a lot of sea aboard in bad weather.

On one occasion after escorting a vessel for ten hours they put into Minehead on the Bristol Channel, Somerset. A hotel was opened up for them providing hot meals and baths. Tommy 'Dowie' Howells fell asleep in the bath, fully clothed. They were so exhausted.

Mr Leslie Day was also a long serving crew member as Mechanic under the command of Coxswains Tommy 'Josh' Richards and Billy 'Ila' Thomas. Leslie Day recalled that on one occasion he was locked in the engine-room by Josh and ordered to fix the injector pump. As a reward for his repairs he was allowed the first cup full from the rum bottle.

Leslie Day added that if you knew the Henry Comber Brown you could always get her to her destination, whatever the trouble.

Eternal as the sea. These men will never die.

*****

A Lifeboatman for forty-five years and a true 'Son of the Sea' was George Henry Hooper. He died at the age of seventy-eight in 1957.

Born in Tenby in 1879 he was one of eleven children from the late Mr and Mrs Robert Hooper who came from Devonshire.

His father was the Skipper of one of the Brixham trawlers which fished from Tenby many years ago.

George himself was only nine years old when he first went to sea with his father in 1898, and he was to be a fisherman all his life, except when on War Service.

A member of the Royal Naval Reserve, he was called up before the outbreak of the First World War, when he would have been twenty-five years old, and he served throughout the hostilities for some five years.

He was referred to daily in our home because of serving with dad, and we always called him Mr Hooper. He was a highly respected man, but he did have a nickname: 'The Long 'Un.'

Mr Hooper joined the crew of the Tenby Lifeboat in 1911 when he was twenty-two years old. He was the Coxswain twenty-two years later when my father joined in 1933.

He was to take part in many of the early rescues, which must have been hard and hazardous, depending on the muscle power of the oarsmen. Their endurance is beyond our comprehension.

The William and Mary Devey was placed at the Tenby Lifeboat Station in November 1902. When George Hooper joined the crew she had been there for nine years. She was a 38 foot by 9 foot 4 inches, 12 oared, non-self-righting Watson class; designed for sailing greater distances than the smaller self-righting boats. She cost £984 to build and the old Boathouse had to be altered to accommodate her at a cost of £289. Built in 1894 the old Boathouse still exists, next to the Castle Sands slipway, as does the original Boathouse [1852] on the Quay Sands next to the Harbour wall.

Her Coxswain, Thomas Davies, retired at the end of 1911, and was succeeded by John Williams. Mr George Hooper was a member of his crew. This rowing Lifeboat took part in many rescues.

At three in the afternoon of Boxing Day 1912, the French schooner Marie Emilie Andrea of Lorient, which had been dragging her anchors for some time, got into a very dangerous position and her crew signalled for help.

The Lifeboat was launched at 15:15 and battled through very heavy seas, whipped by a westerly gale. On reaching the casualty the Lifeboat stood by for some time, but as the seas grew steadily worse it was decided to take the crew off the schooner.

The six men were successfully taken aboard the Lifeboat which brought them back to Tenby, but such considerable difficulty was experienced getting her into harbour in the violent seas that several oars were broken as the crew struggled to bring the Lifeboat alongside the quay.

No praise is too high for these veteran Lifeboatmen who fulfilled their role with strength and courage and little else.

Tenby and Caldey Island are of course inseparable, and another rescue, in which Mr Hooper and the crew of the William and Mary Devey took part was two months later on February 18^th 1913.

The ketch Cornish Lass of Plymouth owned by the Reverend Father Abbot of Caldey and used as a supply vessel for the monastery, got into difficulties west of Caldey Island in an easterly gale.

The William and Mary Devey was launched at 10 pm. It was a dark night, but they quickly reached the ketch and took off the crew of three. On her way back to Tenby, the Lifeboat encountered mountainous seas and she was forced to shelter in the lee of the Royal Victoria Pier [built in 1899 and demolished in 1953, now the proposed site of a new Lifeboat House and Slip referred to in the Sacred Ground opening chapter] until 01:15 am when the weather eased sufficiently for her to get into the harbour.

These men had then been at sea for over three hours in tremendous seas, and the cold and dark of a February night, and they still had to use their hands and limbs to fulfil their rescue.

*****

The Lifeboat crew of Tenby have always been a united and affectionate family. It is impossible too write about one without the other, and I certainly have no wish to do so, as I feel the love for their fellow men and their joint ambition is a characteristic to be very proud of as is their devotion and bravery.

I feel very privileged, as a Lifeboatman's daughter to be able to relate these tales to you. Some of you, like myself, were brought up on them, so to speak. But for many others, who may read them for the first time in this family story, I hope they will appreciate the quality of the town through the character of its people as well as its natural beauty. In today's society, Tenby is quite unique.

None of this side of my work would have been possible without the help of the Tenby Lifeboat personnel, and the kind help of the Tenby Museum and Art Gallery. All has been unselfishly given. I shall endeavour to repay this debt of gratitude throughout the rest of my life. I am indebted to Tenby Lifeboats by Jeff Morris, for his fine work.

I have been honoured by having a copy of my book placed in the Tenby Museum and Art Gallery for the future reference of the town, and the Haverfordwest Public Library for student reference. So I am already very proud.

*****

I include the following story in my tribute to my father's Coxswain, George Henry Hooper, although it is related to some extent by our former hero, Ivor Crockford, as it refers to Mr Hooper's father and family, and Ivor was a boy at the time of this rescue.

On the January 16^th 1987, former Coxswain Ivor Crockford related an old tale about the Tenby Lifeboat in the days of canvas. He had been reading through the old records kept by the late Dr E M R Bryant of Saint Julian's Street, Tenby, who was Honorary Secretary of Tenby Lifeboat Station from 1900 to 1929.

I quote: "On the night of December 1^st 1919 a ketch was seen to be driving ashore on the South Sands, near the Iron Bar which is under the Paragon. The Coxswain J 'Naff' Williams, who saw her come ashore, immediately fired the maroons and launched the Tenby Lifeboat William and Mary Devey."

The Rocket Lifesaving Team [breeches-buoy] were also called and arrived first at the scene of the wreck. This is the Coxswain J 'Naff' Williams' report:

The Crew on this rescue were: Coxswain J 'Naff' Williams, Second Coxswain Robert Hooper (father of George and Charlie) Bowman John 'Jack Skeep' Rees (Mrs Flo Eynon's father) James Davies (Jack Davies' grandfather) J Williams (of San Domingo) George 'The Long 'Un' Hooper, Jim Crockford (Ivor Crockford's father) Josh Richards (Peter Richards' grandfather) Fred Goodridge, Harry Hooper (Lesley Hooper's father) Tom Kingdom, John Rees (Nelson Rees' father) Henry 'Dubs' Thomas, William Thomas (Mrs Child's father and grandfather to the present Coxswain Alan Thomas).

Mr Ivor Crockford added his personal memories of this old sea rescue. I quote: "I remember this rescue very well. I was eight years old and one of dozens of locals watching the rescue at the Iron Bar end. Others included on this night were Lal John, Billy 'Ila,' Billy Smith, Jack 'Sprat,' 'Nantal' Phillips, Albert Marsh, Billy 'Dubs,' Reg Stacey, Vic Rees, Flanagan and Dinky Crockford.

*****

The William and Mary Devey finished her service in 1923. She was the last of the old sailing and rowing Lifeboats in Tenby and went out with a fine record of having been launched forty-six times in her twenty-one year's service.

She and her crew had saved seventy-nine lives, which proved to be the largest number of lives saved by any pulling and sailing Lifeboat on the south-west coast.

The first motor Lifeboat John R Webb arrived at the Tenby Lifeboat Station in August 1923.

George Hooper and the rest of the crew found themselves with a very different boat: 7 foot longer, 3 foot wider, nearly 3 times heavier. She had a six-cylinder petrol engine, her speed of eight and a half knots meant she was much faster. They had to adapt themselves to the new skills required to handle her in this new method of rescue. Also, modifications to the Boathouse and Slip, built in 1905, had to be made.

She was only stationed at Tenby for seven years. During that period she was launched sixteen times and she and her crew saved thirty-two lives. Her last service was in June 1928 and she remained at Tenby until 1930. On one occasion during a launch she was struck by lightning, but fortunately none of the crew were injured.

1930 now, and the John R Webb II was placed on service in Tenby. The same size as her predecessor and from the same donor, the legacy of Mr J R Webb of Leicester.

My father didn't know at this time but this Lifeboat was to be his life and nearly his death, for some fifteen years, as it was for Mr George Hooper.

George Hooper became her Coxswain in 1931 when the Coxswain John Williams retired - he had served as Coxswain of the Tenby Lifeboat for nineteen years, originally with the William and Mary Devey in 1912.

My father, Alfred Cottam, joined Mr Hooper as Motor Mechanic in 1933, when the Mechanic Arthur Ridley retired.

Together with their crew they were to take part in many rescues. Just a year later it was the famous Fermanagh Rescue, related in chapter four. George Hooper was unable to attend this rescue and his place was taken by the Second Coxswain John Rees, who received the RNLI's Silver Medal. My father received the Bronze Medal.

On one notable rescue they were both injured, as were other crew members, when the Lifeboat nearly capsized.

Midday on February 8^th 1945, the Tenby Lifeboat Station had a call from Trinity House, Swansea, requesting that the Lifeboat be sent to the Saint Govan's Lightship. The head-keeper was seriously ill and the lightship was short of stores.

The John R Webb II launched at 12:30 pm into a very rough sea, whipped up by a full south-westerly gale.

They had a long way to go to the lightship. Fifteen sea miles. And when they left the comparative shelter of Caldey Island, they met the full force of the violent storm.

High seas were repeatedly sweeping over the Lifeboat as she battled her way towards the lightship. They had travelled twelve miles in these conditions when suddenly an enormous wall of water broke right over her, smashing the steering wheel and bending the steering shaft.

Then another high wave crashed over the John R Webb II and nearly sank her. Her crew were now badly injured. The Coxswain, Second Coxswain, Mechanic (my father) and Second Mechanic, very badly.

On this rescue, our dear George Hooper was Acting Assistant Mechanic at the age of sixty-one years in order to make up a full crew. His injuries were serious. Several fractured ribs and a fractured pelvis. He must have been in considerable pain. My father was smashed about the head. He came home eventually, with his head swathed in white bandages. It affected his sight as he afterwards had to wear glasses and I can remember him sitting with his head in his hands, so great were the headaches.

I am sorry; I do not know how badly the other crew members were injured.

Despite being repeatedly swept by high waves, plus the injuries of the crew, the Lifeboatmen rigged up emergency steering and the battered Lifeboat and crew made their way back to Tenby.

A gallant attempt, but unable to fulfil this particular rescue.

When the storm eased somewhat the next day, the Angle Lifeboat went out to the lightship taking their requested stores and bringing the head-keeper ashore for treatment.

George Hooper retired in 1945 and my father Alfred Cottam three years later in 1948.

In a Lifeboat crew each man is as brave as his fellow members. Interdependent, they are a united team. Each would take whatever position was required of them to fulfil their rescue. The most important person to them is the casualty.

This tribute to Tenby Lifeboat Heroes is to every one of our Lifeboatmen who have given their devoted service since 1852 when a Lifeboat Station was first founded in Tenby by the Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners' Benevolent Society - becoming part of the RNLI in 1854.

Those that I have portrayed were with my father and therefore part of my family story. My sincere thanks to all who made this possible. My sincere wish is that it will further the cause.

I find the illustrated book Tenby Lifeboats by Jeff Morris, on sale from Tenby RNLI [refer to start of chapter] and from Tenby bookshops, a very emotional experience and each time I read I cry ... and sometimes laugh at the local humour.

The bravery and self-sacrifice of our heroes has quietly passed by and but for the RNLI records and the written words by Jeff Morris would to a great extent be forgotten. I have endeavoured from these records to 'cameo our heroes.' My book has already achieved some notable success. I hope it will take the stories of their valour to further corners of the world and in so doing redress the balance of acclaim they are so worthy of, and further the cause of the Tenby Lifeboat and all who work so hard for her.

In 1946 Thomas Benjamin Richards succeeded Mr George Hooper as Coxswain and Len Beardmore succeeded my father, Alfred Cottam, as Motor Mechanic in 1948. My father had served for fifteen years and I don't really know the reason why he retired at this time. He was fifty-three years of age.

Thomas Benjamin Richards was to be Coxswain, of first the John R Webb II and then the Henry Comber Brown, for twelve years. The Richards' family have a long association with the Tenby Lifeboat, one generation after another. Well over one hundred years of service to the Tenby Lifeboat.

Thomas was a very brave and dutiful man. His devotion to the Tenby Lifeboat came second to none.

The following story from the book Tenby Lifeboats by Jeff Morris typifies his character:

On September 21^st 1953, the John R Webb II took part in an outstanding rescue. That evening the Coastguard at Tenby learned that the pumps on the Saint Govan's Lightship had stopped working and she was in danger of sinking.

She had a crew of seven men on board. A full west-south-westerly gale was blowing and the sea was extremely rough, with a very heavy swell from the south-west, which was combining to cause an abnormally confused sea.

The District Officer of the Coastguard at Tenby later said: "I have experienced stronger winds during my service in Her Majesty's Coastguards, but I have never seen the sea so bad. This is the first time I had some hesitation in asking the Lifeboat to put to sea."

Within five minutes of the maroons being fired to call-out the crew, John R Webb II was launched. The time was 9:42 pm.

Once clear of Caldey Island, the Lifeboat was driving straight into the full fury of the storm. They had about fifteen miles to go.

The light vessel was without power and was only showing a small oil lantern in her rigging.

Coxswain Thomas Richards asked the lightship's Master by radio to fire flares at intervals to indicate her position, and shortly after at 12:30 am the Coxswain sighted one and the Lifeboat reached the light vessel at 1:10 am. Conditions were so appalling it had taken them three hours and twenty-eight minutes to travel the fifteen miles.

She was lying head to sea and wind, with the heavy swell on her port bow causing her to roll very heavily as the high seas swept over the lightship.

Her Master advised the Lifeboat Coxswain to approach on the starboard side.

Thomas Richards brought the Lifeboat alongside the heavy rolling lightship but in the violent seas and darkness the crew of the lightship were unable to make fast the securing rope, and as the high seas enveloped her, the John R Webb II was swept away.

A second run-in was made, and again, using his engines, Coxswain Richards held the Lifeboat alongside, with the aid of a rope from the lightship ... long enough for two men to be taken aboard the Lifeboat. The rope then parted and the Lifeboat was swept away for a second time.

A third run was made and again using his engines Coxswain Richards held the Lifeboat alongside. The Lifeboatmen lined their port rail and quickly hauled the remaining five men from the lightship, just as she rolled heavily on the Lifeboat causing some damage, but without injuring anyone.

Thomas Richards swung the bows of the John R Webb II away from the crippled lightship and headed back to Tenby arriving at 3:30 pm.

For his superb seamanship and outstanding courage, Thomas Benjamin Richards was awarded the Silver Medal by the RNLI, the Lifeboat's Bowman William Thomas and the Motor Mechanic William Rogers each received Bronze Medals. The other crew members each received Thanks on Vellum from the Institution. They are all our great Tenby Lifeboat Heroes.

*****

Some of the call-outs are not great epics, but if their help is needed, out they go. They have to err on the side of caution.

William Ray Thomas succeeded Thomas Benjamin Richards as Coxswain of the Tenby Lifeboat Henry Comber Brown in 1958. During his ten years service as Coxswain, he and the Tenby Lifeboat crew were to go out to many rescues. One of which was to rescue pedigree cows that had fallen off the cliffs at Manorbier.

At Christmas they did their traditional launch to take parcels and provisions for the crews of the lightships nearby.

One very dramatic call-out was on the November 18^th 1963. The coaster Kilo of 571 tons was on passage from Liverpool to Rotterdam carrying a lethal cargo of sodium, and in her hold she also had a cargo of whisky and acetone.

Minutes after her Master saw a small flame above a drum of sodium, the top of the drum was blown off by an explosion.

The vessel was east of the Smalls Lighthouse with a south-westerly gale force eight gusting to storm force ten. The Master decided to make for Swansea and put out a distress call. The Henry Comber Brown, under the command of William Ray Thomas was launched at 12:50 am.

The Kilo was then in a position ten miles south-east of Caldey and the Coxswain planned to come up with her near the Helwick Lightship [off Worms' Head, Gower Peninsula].

At one stage the Lifeboat was laid on her beam-ends and the tarpaulin wheel-house doors were smashed off their rails (Barry Coastguards recorded a wind speed of 112 mph).

A Shackleton aircraft of coastal command was deployed to illuminate the coaster's position with parachute flares. Before the Henry Comber Brown could reach her, the Lifeboat's port engine lost oil pressure and had to be shut down.

The Mumbles Lifeboat was then launched and when she reached the casualty her Coxswain, Derek Scott, described Kilo as afire from stern to stem ... with the seas around her seemingly on fire as well. She eventually grounded and her crew were taken off by the Mumbles Lifeboat. Coxswain Scott was awarded the RNLI's Silver Medal.

The Tenby Lifeboat continued on her course to Swansea. After battling through tremendous seas, on her starboard engine only, they entered South Dock just after eight am. They had been at sea for over seven hours.

The damage to her port engine was repaired and she returned to Tenby at 3:30 pm on Tuesday the 19^th.

Sometimes some of the most difficult rescues happen quite close to home.

On the afternoon of August 27^th 1966 the Coastguard reported that six people were trapped by the tide at the mouth of a cave near Waterwynch.

Although the Coastguard Cliff Rescue Team was reported to be on its way, Geoffrey Reason-Jones the Honorary Secretary of the Tenby Lifeboat Station knew, from past experience and his knowledge of the area, that it was likely that the Lifeboat would be needed. He hurried to the Lion Corner overlooking the north shore at Tenby and using his binoculars, he could see people trapped on some of the rocks. There was clearly a danger that they might be washed off before the Coastguards could reach them, so he decided to launch the Lifeboat.

Informing the Coastguards of his intentions, he headed for the Lifeboat Station and the maroons were fired. The Henry Comber Brown was launched at 4 pm taking a 14ft punt with her.

It was one hour before high water and although there was only a moderate sea there was a heavy swell from the south-east.

The Tenby Lifeboat dropped anchor off Waterwynch, only ten minutes after launching and Coxswain Thomas veered down towards the rocks.

Five boys could be seen huddled together on a narrow ledge and a girl was by herself on a rock nearby.

The Lifeboat got within seventy-five yards of the cliff face, but could not get any closer because of the heavy swell and some outcrops of rocks.

The Coxswain decided to use the punt, and Bowman Joshua Richards, and crew member Michael Wilson (a Second Officer in the Merchant Navy who was home on leave at this time) volunteered to man the punt.

Bowman Joshua Richards managed to work the punt within ten yards of the rocks. A considerable achievement requiring great skill and tremendous physical strength in the very heavy surf. The swell at times was fourteen feet high.

One boy dived into the sea and was hauled aboard the punt. He said that none of the others were good swimmers so, Michael Wilson secured a line to his life-jacket and while Joshua Richards struggled to keep the punt in position, the boy paid out the line.

Michael Wilson was completely lost from view in the high surf for most of his swim to the rocks. The surge of water, back off the cliff face, prevented him from climbing the ledge and so he persuaded one of the boys to jump into the sea and helped him to the punt. He returned three more times through the turmoil of broken water, and each time brought back one of the boys.

Bowman Joshua Richards then rowed back to the Lifeboat and the boys were put aboard.

Crew member Brian Bolton then joined his colleagues in the punt and they headed back for the rock on which the girl was stranded.

Michael Wilson again went into the sea but the girl, who could not swim, would not jump into the sea. Michael Wilson decided that the only way he was going to reach the girl was to allow himself to be literally washed up to the rocks by the waves. This he did, being badly bruised and cut in doing so. Once he'd recovered his breath he persuaded the girl to go back with him.

He tied the lifeline around her and they jumped into the sea and were hauled safely to the punt, which took them back to the Lifeboat and then to Tenby.

For his act of truly outstanding personal bravery Michael Wilson was awarded the Silver Medal by the RNLI. For his considerable skill and gallantry, Bowman Joshua Richards was awarded the Bronze Medal. Michael Wilson later received the Maud Smith Award for the bravest act of lifesaving by a member of a Lifeboat in 1966.

Coxswain William Ray Thomas retired in 1968 because of ill health. Totally dedicated to the Tenby Lifeboat, he had served forty-three years. He was succeeded by Ivor Crockford.

The Richards' family have a long seafaring and Lifeboat history in Tenby. Joshua William Richards, son of the former Coxswain Thomas Benjamin Richards [1946-58] became Coxswain of the Tenby Lifeboat in 1972, succeeding Ivor Crockford - who had retired, thirty-four years from first joining the Tenby Lifeboat service in 1938.

Joshua Richards was to see an eventful first year as Coxswain. The Henry Comber Brown was fitted with a Decca 050 radar set and Tenby Lifeboat Station had its first inflatable Inshore Lifeboat (ILB) a fifteen-foot six-inch D-204 class powered by a 40 horsepower outboard engine with a top speed of 20 knots.

Just seven days after her arrival she was launched for the first time. Between that first service on July 16^th 1972 and the end of August she was called-out fourteen times and saved ten lives. What an amazing start ... The following year she answered forty calls. A record!

Henry Comber Brown was launched thirty-two times that same year (1973) and these seventy-two call-outs were exactly the same number answered by the pulling and sailing boats over a 47 year period (1876-1923).

Besides the appointment of a new Coxswain and the introduction of the ILB (which being kept constantly busy had fully justified her role) 1972 marked the beginning of a period when other significant events were happening connected with the Tenby Lifeboat.

In 1977 a new Boathouse [situated in Tenby Harbour at the top of the Mayor's Slip next to the Sluice] was opened for the ILB, having been built out of funds raised by the people of Tenby and district.

One rescue by the ILB on Friday August 26^th 1977 at 4:02 pm was to rescue people cut off by the tide. D-204, which was her name, was launched after the Coastguard reported that a number of people were cut off by the tide beneath the Paragon on the South Sands, Tenby.

It was full flood tide with a choppy sea and heavy surf which made it difficult to approach the stranded people.

Four children and two adults were rescued and landed at Tenby Harbour. The Inshore Lifeboat then returned to the scene and rescued three more adults and a youth, landing them all at 5 pm. The rescue took an hour and saved ten lives.

******

Towards the end of 1978, during routine maintenance work on Tenby Lifeboat Station, engineers discovered extensive rot in the timber sub-structure. The Henry Comber Brown was placed on a mooring off Tenby Harbour and the Boathouse closed while further examination was carried out.

On January 2^nd 1979, because of bad weather, the Coxswain Joshua Richards and crew took the Henry Comber Brown to a more sheltered mooring off Caldey Island. At ten o'clock the following morning they set off back to Tenby to change crew as there was still a force nine gale blowing with very heavy seas.

While the Lifeboat was lying alongside the harbour, Coxswain Richards learned that the five men who had spent the night on 'anchor watch' onboard the RAF pinnace [used to patrol the sea off local Ministry of Defence ranges] were about to return ashore in a small inflatable motor dinghy.

In the conditions prevailing Coxswain Richards decided to escort them to safety, so the Lifeboat put to sea straight away.

As the inflatable boat ran in towards the harbour and got within 200 yards of safety, a huge wave capsized the boat. The Lifeboat was at the scene within a couple of minutes and three men were pulled from the water. One man was trapped beneath the capsized boat and another was being dragged down by the boat's flexible fuel pipe, which had become entangled around his neck.

As Coxswain Joshua Richards skilfully held the Lifeboat in position with the heavy seas sweeping over her, Second Coxswain Alan Thomas leaned over the side and tried to feel for the trapped man. Eventually he felt the man's hand, grabbed it and dragged him onto the Lifeboat.

Emergency Mechanic Roy Young cut the fuel pipe which was trapping the fifth man, who was then pulled to safety.

An amazing rescue, saving five lives.

The problems with the Lifeboat House were quite serious and it was decided to place a new galvanised steel sub-structure beneath the Boathouse and also replace the Slip.

The new work was complicated by the fact that it had to be done without disturbing the Boathouse itself. The old wooden structure was subsequently removed.

The work was completed in spring 1980 at a cost of nearly £400,000. At the time it was the biggest single item of expenditure in RNLI history. An example of the costs the RNLI have to bear, completely from voluntary contributions.

*****

In November 1982 William Alan Thomas (son of former Coxswain William Ray Thomas) was appointed Coxswain of the Tenby Lifeboat.

He succeeded Coxswain Josh Richards (son of former Coxswain Thomas Benjamin Richards).

Prior to the establishment of Tenby's first Lifeboat Station in 1852, Alan Thomas' great-great-grandfather John Ray was awarded the Honorary Medallion of the Royal Humane Society following the sloop Mary being wrecked off Tenby in November 1834.

So is the family lineage passed down through the generations in Tenby. They serve with pride, devotion to duty and honour.

Working in union with the Inshore Lifeboat, whenever occasion demands, Coxswain Alan Thomas, Motor Mechanic Charles Crockford and their crew have attended many rescues.

Henry Comber Brown was launched in the early morning of Sunday 25^th September 1983 after it was reported that the yacht Sailing Bye had dragged her anchor and run aground on the North Beach.

As Alan Thomas was absent, Second Coxswain John John was in command of the Lifeboat as they headed to the casualty.

In choppy seas and a force five onshore wind, the 27ft yacht was aground 400 yards from the Lifeboat Station, lying broadside on to a heavy surf, she was listing heavily to starboard and being pounded by the waves. There were two men and three children on board.

By skilful use of his engines, Acting Coxswain John John held the Lifeboat in position and a small inflatable dinghy, carried on the Lifeboat, was veered down towards the yacht, being manned by crew members Nicky Crockford (son of Lifeboatman Flanagan Crockford) and Nicholas Tebbutt.

They reached the yacht safely by 5:07 am and made a tow-line fast aboard the yacht.

Acting Coxswain John John took the Lifeboat slowly ahead, to hold the yacht steady while the inflatable was worked around the stern and the youngest of the children, aged nine, was taken off. The two Lifeboatmen were closer to the beach than they were to the Lifeboat and so they rowed ashore and handed the child into the care of the Coastguard.

The two crewmen then prepared to relaunch the inflatable dinghy, and with Nicholas Tebbutt at the oars, Nicky Crockford remained in the water to steady the boat. Just as they were setting off through the heavy surf a very large wave struck the inflatable and capsized it. The two crewmen quickly righted it, but decided to push the boat out through the surf to the casualty.

With one man either side of the boat this was successfully done, both men being frequently totally submerged. The other two children were ferried safely ashore and handed over to the Coastguard at 5:20 am.

Throughout the rescue, Acting Coxswain John John had held the Henry Comber Brown in position, steadying the yacht with the tow-line and illuminating the scene of rescue with the Lifeboat's searchlight.

Once the children were safe he began to tow the yacht into deeper water, the two men remaining on the yacht throughout this operation.

The yacht was secured to a mooring outside Tenby harbour at 5:30 am and the Lifeboat placed on her moorings as it was too rough to rehouse her.

For this service the RNLI's Thanks on Vellum was awarded to Nicky Crockford and Nicholas Tebbutt.

A framed letter of thanks, signed by the Chairman of the RNLI, His Grace the Duke of Atholl, was sent to the Acting Coxswain John John.

On Lifeboat Day, August 2^nd 1986, the Inshore Lifeboat, crewed by helmsman Denny Young and crewmen John John, Bobby James and Roy Young rescued a man from rocks at Monkstone Point in rough sea and gale force winds. All four were awarded the RNLI's Thanks on Vellum.

*****

The current Motor Mechanic of Tenby Lifeboat, Charles Crockford, took over in 1973. Nephew of Ivor Crockford and a seaman born and bred. To date [1999] he must be Tenby's longest serving Motor Mechanic, having already served some twenty-six years. He has served with Coxswain Josh Richards and Coxswain Alan Thomas. He has attended many rescues, a notable one in 1982 in the 'relief' Inshore Lifeboat.

Two boys were cut off by the tide at Freshwater East. Notorious for its currents, which have been known to take a child off the beach, it is some eight miles west of Tenby.

The boys were sheltering in a gully at the foot of the cliffs in a force four south-west breeze and heavy six foot swell.

Finding it impossible to take the ILB directly to them, Coxswain Alan Thomas ran her up to the rocks and Charles Crockford leapt for shore. By jumping from rock to rock he reached the two boys, helping them one at a time back on board the ILB.

An exceptionally high wave threatened to sweep the ILB, containing the Lifeboatmen and the boys, against the rocks. Coxswain Alan Thomas just succeeded in clearing them fully before the wave swept in.

The boys were put ashore at Freshwater East after a rescue that lasted two hours. The ILB then returned to Tenby Harbour. The RNLI's Thanks on Vellum was awarded to Coxswain Alan Thomas and Motor Mechanic Charles Crockford for this service.

*****

On September 29^th 1986 a new Tenby Lifeboat was commissioned and named in a ceremony at Tenby Harbour by HRH Princess Alexandra, with the band of the Welsh Guards and a detachment of Gurkhas, the RFA Sir Galahad.

A steel hulled 47 foot Tyne class, self-righting Lifeboat built at a cost of £494,000 provided out of funds raised by members of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary, by a number of gifts and legacies, and by a local appeal launched by the then Honorary Secretary Mr Eric Bancroft.

She was named after the Royal Fleet Auxiliary Sir Galahad which was severely damaged and suffered heavy casualties in the Falkland's War in 1982. It was hoped that the Tenby Lifeboat RFA Sir Galahad would serve as a fitting memorial to the gallantry of the dead and wounded of her namesake, and members of the Falkland's Families Association attended the ceremony.

.

to John Ray

Silver Medals to Lieutenant Jesse (Chief of Coastguards) and to Coxswain Robert Parrott

Silver Medals to Lieutenant Boyle (Chief of Coastguards) and Coxswain Robert Parrott

Silver Medal to Coxswain Thomas Monger

for Long Service

Silver Medal to Acting Coxswain John Rees and Bronze Medal to Motor Mechanic Alfred Cottam

Silver Medal to Thomas Richards and Bronze Medals to Bowman William Thomas and Motor Mechanic William Rogers

Silver Medal and Maud Smith Award to Crewman Michael Wilson, and Bronze Medal to Bowman Josh Richards

Bronze Medal to Coxswain Josh Richards

Silver Medal and Maud Smith Award to Coxswain Alan Thomas

No one could ask to be born in a more beautiful town than Tenby, one of the most beautiful resorts in the British Isles. It has great antiquity.

It came into prominence eight hundred years ago, after the Norman occupation of South Pembrokeshire.

William de Valence and his wife Joan, Earl and Countess of Pembroke, granted Tenby a Charter around 1290. It was part of their estate.

When given over to the people, a common council was formed. It became a borough and burgesses of land were distributed.

Bailiffs were appointed to oversee law and order. The burgesses were a privilege given to a townsman in return for some duty he had performed satisfactorily for the Lord.

The arable land surrounding the town ran from areas such as 'The Norton' and 'The Green.' The River Ritec, along the Marsh Road, would have been a tidal estuary at this time.

Each burgess was a strip of land, long and narrow, as land was scarce on such a rocky promontory. It was named after the person to whom it was granted. The names are still there to some extent, and Alan and myself were born on one such burgess strip. 'Broadwell,' 'Maudlins,' 'Heywood' all now used as road names; and many more too to retain our history.

When the Earl and Countess of Pembroke were deceased, their heirs confirmed that these land privileges could continue, and indeed enlarged upon them.

Pasture to graze animals close to the fortressed town was scarce. Fresh meat, milk and vegetables, wheat, corn and barley, all were necessary to provide for the inhabitants.

What a hive of industrious people it must have been. Many workshops would have been necessary. Blacksmiths, farriers, stables, farms, agriculture, all leading up to the little town.

Some of the gentry of the day lived on the outskirts. Scotsborough House on the road to Gumfreston, and Trefloyne near Penally are examples.

Tenby's privileges were confirmed by several Kings of England and in 1402 King Henry IV gave them the right to choose a Mayor. This privilege has been exercised ever since. Nearly six hundred years. It is to the credit of Tenby Town Council that a record of our Mayors has been kept since the year of that first appointment.

In the Middle Ages, Tenby was a busy port trading with France, Spain and Portugal. High tide saw a hive of activity as laden sailing ships entered and left the harbour.

Her townsmen were seamen venturing out to the wider world. Her townsmen were fishermen fighting the elements to secure food.

Hardworking, but happy within their united environment, the townsmen were to suffer from pillaging and looting in 1260 when it was sacked in the uprising led by Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, siege by Oliver Cromwell during the Civil War [he had his headquarters at Trefloyne] and Plague.

Tenby later rose to fame as a fashionable watering place. Edwardian and Georgian houses were built, accompanying the old merchants' houses and fishermen's cottages.

Our finest antiquity is our Parish Church, Saint Mary's, dated from the thirteen century, but probably even earlier. It has been enlarged from time to time to accommodate its population. Very spacious, very beautiful, influenced by the continued history of its townsmen. Wealthy or poor it has always been there as a haven and, in keeping with Tenby's nautical tradition, to seamen its spire is a landmark.

My brother Alan and I are very proud to have been christened there in the 1930s. My sister Peggy married there at the end of the War, and some years later my dear friend Wendy Nowell was to marry there and have her children christened. Her husband John has done some beautiful woodwork in the Church.

Whatever one's beliefs, our Churches provide a sense of purpose in life, unity, belonging and pride. I feel Saint Mary's is one of the most beautiful Churches and a great credit to Tenby and its people who so generously support it.

Some important dignitaries of the town lived at the top of our road and as they seldom used cars we saw them walk past daily; so we became familiar with them.

Mrs Margaret Jane Jenkins, known as Jane, lived in a detached house which was directly in line with our road, but actually situated on the Serpentine. She also owned land there and was very generous in allowing others to use it.

Born in 1873, she married in 1898 at the age of twenty-five. She had one son and three daughters. She and her husband formed a company, J Jenkins and Co.

Jane Jenkins became a Councillor in 1921 and was elected Mayor in 1927. In 1932 she became an Alderman of Tenby and Justice of the Peace. One of her married daughters, Anne Norman, also became a Councillor.

In her field, facing her house, there was a stile and footpath leading to the woods, which we used at every opportunity, as Box Wood and Folly Wood were our treasured playground.

She also had a field in line with her house which she allowed to be used annually by the Boy Scouts for their camp and jamboree. On one occasion we were lucky enough to be invited. A large bonfire was lit in the centre of the camp. The scoutmasters and scouts, all in uniform, sat in a tidy circle around it with crossed legs. We were placed in-between as guests. One scout took the lead in singing and we learned, as we went along, all the traditional scout songs. It was such united fun. Midsummer's Night, turning dark before we left, the smoke from the fire, and all faces reflected in its flickering light, made it a memorable occasion.

I suppose I was about seven or eight and I quite liked the handsome Boy Scout sitting next to me. He has held my hand when we were singing. I went home strangely moved. Only to be devastated the next day when I saw him talking to a little fair-haired girl from Newell Hill. Oh, the pains of youth!

Also, at the top of our road was the large detached house "Belvedere." This was the gracious home of a gracious family, Mr and Mrs T P Hughes.

Thomas Phillip Hughes was born in 1867, son of Mr and Mrs John Hughes.

Mr Thomas Hughes, draper and house furnisher in Tenby, highly respected townsman, for many years their name has been synonymous with Tenby High Street and Upper Frog Street. In 1900 at the age of thirty-three years, he married Nancy Watt. They had two sons, Tom and David, and a daughter, Mary.

Mr Thomas Hughes became a Councillor in 1919 at the age of forty-two. He polled the highest number of votes ever recorded in the Borough. He was particularly interested in matters of progress in the town: housing for its poor and advertising it as a tourist destination. He was elected as Mayor in 1925 when he was fifty-eight years old and he was made an Alderman of the town in 1926.

Outside the grounds of their house was a public leisure area with seats. This was one of our favourite meeting and play places as we could use the seats in our games as beds, or as stages for our singing and dancing.

Young Tom Hughes and his sister, Mary, often came to the hedge to watch us and talk to us. They gave us apples from the orchard and played conkers with us. They weren't allowed out to play as we were. David, the youngest, was just a toddler. My sister Peggy was later to become his nursemaid. When they moved to Saint Julian's Street, she went with them. They were a sweet-natured and kind family.

1939 was an eventful year for me. I started school although still a few weeks off my fourth birthday. It was September and the start to the new school year.

A hectic Monday morning getting the children into action after the long summer holiday; I started to cry, my mother asked: "Why?"

I said: "Everyone is going to school except me."

My mother said: "Look my girl, if you can find yourself a pair of shoes in that cupboard, you can go."

The shoe cupboard on the side of the fireplace was an unbelievable jumble. It had a strong leather smell. The assortment of shoes to fit the family were very shabby. Size One - I was limited in choice, but I did find a little pair of red ones that went on my feet.

My sister Joyce was told to take me by the hand all the way to headmaster Ossie Morgan's study and ask if it was permissible for me start as I was really too young.

I can remember every detail of my first day, and how wonderful it seemed to me. Joyce explained that I very much wanted to come to school. Ossie eyed me, lifted me up in his arms and took me to a glass fronted cupboard, where he selected a coloured pencil and envelope, going back to his desk, he stood me down.

He scribbled on the envelope and said: "If you can do that you can start."

I suppose he wanted to see if I could hold a pencil; I said: "Please sir I can do better than that, I can write my name."

And Joyce said "Yes sir and she can tell the time, and read Jack the Ripper books."

I wish I could remember his facial expression at this retort. Joyce was into reading Jack the Ripper stories and as I often sat near her when she was reading and having been told to be quiet, I started reading as well. What assorted knowledge I imbibed I don't know, as I was slow and Joyce turned the page before I was finished.

I was taken to the Infants' Class. Which had sweet little desks with seats that lifted up and down. The pretty lady teacher was Miss Thomas. My father bought his daily newspaper from her father's shop in Tudor Square. She was quite tall with black hair arranged in pinned curls around her face. She wore a beautiful blue dress. Her classroom cupboard was so nice, she had painted it with symbols of the alphabet. A is for apple, B is for ball ... and learning and writing on a slate with chalk was great, if you did make a mistake you just licked your finger and rubbed it out.

We had one boy in the class, who I was afraid of. I won't name him although we knew him well. He obviously had a learning problem which resulted in forceful anger from time to time: whoever was nearest bore the brunt, teacher or pupil. His ignorance of ability to handle anything out of the norm seems incredible to us today. But we must remember that there were no special schools for children with special needs. But Miss Thomas was patient. When he wished to go to the toilet she undid his trouser buttons and braces, and off he went running across the playground (to the children's outside toilets) hanging onto his falling pants, braces dangling. Her method of control, when he was unruly, was to struggle with him and place him within the heavy metal fireguard where he had to stay in disgrace. She never smacked him to my knowledge. As he was not forward enough to move up in class she had to endure this for some years.

For school my long hair, which I could sit on, was plaited in two thick plaits each of which was tied with any old bit of rag handy. Bits were torn off old dresses and kept for this purpose. Our income did not aspire to hair ribbons. This particular boy loved to catch me by the plaits and swing on them like ropes.

I had encountered this behaviour before starting school, if my mother sent me to Fanny Davies' shop on the Green for bread. I had to take a stick to fend him off. Or sometimes our dog, which in my little mind was hopefully going to gobble him up. But I did acquire a device against the demon. It was a wart that grew on one of my fingers. My sisters scorned it when washing me as it was said if you touched it you also got one. What we believed in our ignorance was nobody's business. This came to my aid in confrontation. I faced him and said that I would touch the end of his nose with it, and he would have a big one grow, right on the tip. It worked a treat.

One little girlfriend I had, a policeman's daughter who lived up the Jubilee [a cul-de-sac with its entrance just down our road] had a Grandma who could charm warts. It seems she had already cleared the stricken milkman's hands completely. Playing in her house one day her Granny asked that I should be brought to her sitting room. She asked if I would like her to charm my wart away, but I was frightened and put my hand behind my back. She smiled and said that if I would just show it to her she wouldn't say anything. So I gave her my little hand and she just patted it, and off home I went. Do you believe in Fairy Stories? I do because later when I was looking for some doll's clothes in the bedroom drawer I discovered I'd lost my wart. I was panic stricken for a moment, doll's clothes forgotten. I was looking for my wart, there was a big hole in my knuckle, where it had been, and I thought I'd die! Associated with witchcraft there was a lot of old wives' tales, which we children believed anyway. But I was rid of my ugly wart.

About this time a dear eccentric old gentleman came into our lives. At the end of the Maudlins' council houses there is a row of semi-detached private houses, the first one of these was owned to begin with by the Lillicrops, the town's fishmongers. I was friends with the little girls, Jocelyn and Margaret, and was sad when they moved away. Into this same house came Dr Hogan. He was a child's ideal as a grandad, soft white hair around a balding round head, a clean pink face with twinkling eyes, one of which held a monocle which hung around his neck on a leather thong. He always wore a black beret straight across his forehead, which he only took off when sitting to our table. He carried a knobbly walking stick, his trousers and jacket were thick and baggy, his clean shirt worn without a collar.

An arrangement was made between himself and my mother that she should act as his housekeeper for which he would pay her a small wage. Money was always needed, and to give her credit she took this task on her shoulders in a conscientious way. For her convenience he ate at our house, alone, and lived in his house. He loved children and wanted us in the room with him, so we used to sit quietly on the mat whilst he slurped his oatmeal and read his paper through his monocle, propped up on the HP sauce bottle. Oatmeal was never made for anyone else but him. Neither were artichokes etc which he loved, and mother cooked for him.

He had been a doctor out in Africa and had come to Tenby to retire. Like us he walked the woods and shores. In his house, which mum had to keep clean, the furnishings were sparse but good. A huge table stood alone in the sitting-room and it was covered with books. He slept in the back bedroom. As he became enfeebled later, mum saw him to bed and up in the morning. The front bedroom contained a suite and the bed made up in case he was ill. Mum and one of us for company would sleep there to keep watch, as on one occasion he had got up in the night and fallen down stairs; there was no stair-carpet and he was badly bruised.

This dear old man, who had some bossy sisters, was eventually put in a nursing home. My mother fought against it, but to no avail. We were all heartbroken, he died the same year. He left us some money in his will. One hundred pounds for mother and fifty pounds for each child. To give mother her due, she spent it on clothes for each of us. Oh to own two dresses, a coat and mac and strong shoes was unbelievable. Unfortunately the shoes hurt, as by then my feet had got used to stretchy 'scruffies.'

Even in such a large family, each child is a different individual from the next, eager to learn but resilient to forceful influence. Strictly brought up, well-mannered, we lived side by side without a lot of disharmony. Our sisters and brother our friend and so it has remained. All of us wanting to be independent above all, but turning to and receiving love and help from each other at different times, through our lives. No matter how many years go by, to meet is to be back on our old level.

How sad that we never had the opportunity to re-embrace our father in this way. I suppose in a way Tenby has become our shrine for him, and to go back to visit is to go back to our childhood. Walks along the North Beach to see dad at the Lifeboat Station ... and ask his permission for whatever, we would never have dreamed of operating without it. Money was short so we knew not to ask for it. But so many of our pleasures cost nothing, so that was no hardship, and the War years were lean for everyone, most of our friends didn't have a lot more than us. Those who were well off, didn't seem snobbish, we were invited into their homes and given a share at tea-time.

As we all progressed through school (one or two years ahead of the next) between us we were, amongst all the other children in the town of school age, known as one of the Cottams.

During the War teachers were scarce but Wales is a nation of schoolteachers and we were well blessed. Ossie Morgan our headmaster held in high regard, strict but fair with a genuine love of children, he played host to evacuees in his own home. He had a fine singing voice, and always took us himself for music.

Ensor Morgan was a fine man. Home from the War he took over Standard Three when I was there, the first day in class I remember this handsome man with thick dark curly hair and a decidedly auburn moustache: a fly kept landing on it first one side then the next, so gently and so many times he brushed it off. As he discovered my leaning to Literature and Art we became friends, he didn't have any children of his own. He called me his Mona Lisa, because of my features and my long thick hair, he used to ask me to sit and read to him while he marked our books.

It took quite a time in the mornings, getting the gang together for our short walk to school. As we lived at the top of the road, the onus was on us to do the calling as we went down.

We always went to the back door of the house, which invariably led straight into the kitchen to call for our friends. The Lillicrops, who lived opposite, had two little girls, Jocelyn and Margaret. They were sweet children. Better off than us. But they loved to be included in our group. Their mother was a very pretty lady and made us most welcome. She used to take me to the beach with them and even made me a little swimsuit to keep for the occasion. If the girls weren't ready when I called I was allowed to play with their dolls in the conservatory until they had finished their breakfast. They had so many lovely things and I would be lost for a little while, putting the dolls in and out of prams and remaking it.

Margaret, the youngest one, was fairly delicate and to protect her from the cold, her mother put leather gaiters on her little legs before she left for school. These were brown polished leather that fitted from ankle to knee, fastened with little tiny buttons and loops. Her mother used a button hook, something we don't see today and probably just as well. Margaret hated wearing them and cried a bit whilst she sat on the bottom of the stairs for this procedure. I didn't even have socks and wore worn out sandals on my little feet. But oh boy, did I feel lucky!

Each house we went to call for a friend was slightly different, and they would be at various stages of preparation for school. Sometimes we waited on the step and sometimes we were asked in while Mrs Nowell put the ribbon in Wendy's hair or Margaret Pullin finished her breakfast. I didn't like the thought of being there if they were eating bread and milk, 'pobs' as it was called, it was white and sloppy and had a yeasty smell. It was often given to children as a breakfast dish with a little sugar sprinkled on top. Always we had to be fed on what was available and certainly during the War there were few breakfast cereals that we knew of. Those who had 'p