Today I went to the part of town where I grew up,
and discovered that the place where my Father worked,
was no more.
The large buildings which had houses the aluminium presses,
were gone.
The plant closed a few years ago,
but I didn't know that the buildings had been demolished.
All that remains is the office block at the front,
which is now a centre for small businesses.
You can see the gatehouse next to the barrier.
There used to be a sign above,
reporting how many casualties there were that week.
The factory was the reason that I was born in this town,
as my parents moved here about 2 and a half years
before I was born.
My father having transferred
from the sister plant at Resolven in South Wales.
It's an odd feeling to look down the access road,
and see that the landscape has changed for ever.
Part of my history, has gone.
At it's peak 1,000 people worked there.
As I get older, it makes me sad to see pieces of my history disappear too. I felt this way when they tore down the high school where I graduated. My Grandmother was in the first graduating class and I was in the last.
