Pontypridd Market 1968.
Many are the trips made with my mother when I was young to sample the delights of 'Ponty' Market.
The bus would wind along through Trehafod and Hopkinstown and arrive eventually at Pontypridd. The outside stalls would be heaving with dresses and pies and sweets.
The indoor market would smell of mouth watering faggots, hidden behind plastic curtains which divided the stalls. I can remember the large teapots and the hissing of kettles.
Folks sat on benches and the faggots and peas were doled out to the eager waiting recipients.
There was a wonderful joke stall that sold 'stink bombs'.
Among my rambling 'jottings' somewhere, there is a tale of naughty doings at the next door neighbours house, with 'stink bombs' purchased at 'Ponty' market.
That is a tale for another day.
On a warm, sunny day, my mother would take me across the little bridge from Taff street into Ynysangharad park. I can remember the bandstand and children in an open swimming pool, but memories are vague.
Eventually we would board the bus, which, homeward bound, would groan along through Hopkinstown and Trehafod, ending its journey at Porth.
My mother and I would catch the bus to Ynyshir, happy, but weary after that long day of delight.