I NOTED with interest a recent letter about the baker's horse and cart. The bakers were the Cross brothers - Lester and Harold Cross - and I think the horse was called Molly.

The bakery could be found in the lane behind the Albion pub, and the two brothers were well known in the town - they would stop off at most of the town's hostelries on their rounds and used to deliver after the pubs were closed.

Over time they became known as The Midnight Bakers'.

With the imminent redevelopment of the Billybanks, memories of playing there as a child before the flats were built are still as vivid as ever.

It was also called Salter's Field back in those days and I can remember when it was a refuge tip.

The tip went the full length of the present allotments up to and past the High Field Road flats.

In those day's the allotments were maintained to a very high standard.

The tip was eventually filled in and became a young boys' paradise in those cowboys-and-indians days.

Dens were made out of branches, leaves and grass.

Bows and arrows, catapults, spears and armour were all made from the gift of mother nature and it also became the ideal place for the annual bonfire.

Protection of the bonfire from potential raiders was needed day and night, especially having spent six weeks building the fire.

Sometimes we were not successful and this would be seen as an act of foul play, with recompense needing to be served.

A special meeting would be called around the campfire and a scout was sent to the allotments to pinch a couple of potatoes for roasting on the end of sticks whilst we consulted.

Having had our fill ofburnt potatoes with black charcoal all over our mouths and in our teeth, we blackened our faces further.

With 20 minutes of bow and arrow practice - and with spears and armour at the ready - we set off to retrieve our stolen bonfire.

There were never any casualties because the raiders who stole our precious bonfire would run for their lives.

Forty young braves charging towards them with blackened faces with red stripes painted from a borrowed mothers lipstick screaming "Geronimo" tended to have that effect!

The Billybanks was a place made in heaven for young men.

We had food, fire and water.

The water came from the end of Apache Path' (the path leading down to the docks) at a natural spring we would drink and wash at before home time. Sometimes we went home cleaner than we went out!

We used to play football at Plassey Square playing field - although it got very water logged in the winter and would become unplayable.

To remedy it we built a football pitch on the flat part of the Billybanks area. In those days it had good drainage - it must have been a good drainage because of all the top soil the council topped off the rubbish tip with.

We were everything in those days: planners and surveyors. Once we set our minds to it we built it.

Most of our young days were planned around a campfire and there was never a dull moment. There were fads for every month - activities like peashooters, kiting, marbles, bogeys, sledging and skating (remember the old steel skates?) The Billybanks was like home to us in those days.

If you were ever late meeting up with the rest of the tribe, and they had left to go on a hunting trip, all you would do is stand on the top of the Billybanks and yokel the special tribe call. You would be guaranteed a reply from the far distance.

In the skating season we would leave the Billybanks to skate down High Street on one skate, sitting on a Beano or Dandy book.

We used to skate across the junction by the Church School and the corner shop which used to be owned by Mrs Leefield.

There weren't many cars on the roads in those days, you would be lucky to see ten cars a day, but we always put a look out man on the shop corner just in case.

One summer day we encountered a major problem.

The council decided to tarmac High Street and put stone chippings on the top. That put a stop to the skateboard run and also the sledge run in the winter snow. That sledge run was like The Alps to us.

A meeting was arranged back at the Billybanks camp to revise the situation and someone came up with the idea to make a natural slide down the side of the Billybanks.

Crisp box tin lids that were dumped by JJ Crisp Manufactures of Glebe St were the order of the day to substitute the Beano and Dandy books as makeshift sledges.

It was great fun even though sometimes you would go home with the back of your pants hanging out.

A patch would be easily sewn in by a loving mother, but it was not always the same colour as your trousers.

It didn't matter in those days - those were the days when there was no money about and every one looked out for each other.

There was always a feeling of togetherness, everyone helping each other.

If you were in your friend's house on a Sunday night and the tin bath was brought in from the yard you would be bathed at the same time - nothing was ever wasted.

The biggest challenge came one winter.

The Goddard twins - Ken and Colin - were down at the dockside looking around for some material to make a sledge.

There was always plenty of scrap metal hanging around, but the object that caugh their eyes was a vent shaft.

It was about ten foot long with turned up ends and weighed a ton.

We managed to drag, pull and slide it to the top of the bank until opposite the Plassey Square rec.

It was the opposite bank from the famous Billybanks and it took us a couple of days to achieve our goal, with help from the rest of the gang.

Once we had reached the summit we boarded our prize sledge to the envy of the rest of the boys and asked for a push to set us on our way.

There were no hand grips on board so we hung on to each other.

The sledge set off down the bank and levelled offfor about ten yards before taking the second bank. We hit it with so much speed we set off into orbit - and may have been the first Welshman to fly without an engine.

I fell off, Ken jumped off and Colin stayed on for the full journey. But as the sledge landed it trapped Colin's leg andbroke it. We made a stretcher and rushed him home to his parents to sort out the hospital arrangements.

Can you remember the fun up at the Billybanks?

For all our young experiences, they were happy days!

Clive Morris Penarth