Pre-fabs

Prospect Road on the south side of Redditch linked the fringe of the old town to Abbeydale estate, a newly built estate of "Pre-Fabs u and our family was soon to be proud owners of one of these, at long last a home of our own. 'Pre-Fabs' an abbreviation of prefabricated houses was the government's solution to the chronic housing shortage that existed in the latter war years. Drastic measures were needed to re- house the many families made homeless during the Blitz and the influx of thousands of workers needed for wartime industry. The early Pre-Fabs made of aluminium, were manufactured in kit form and were easily and rapidly erected. By 1946 aluminium was in plentiful supply as thousands of crashed or decommissioned aircraft were melted down. We became eligible for a pre fab but my mother rejected it, loftily commenting in Welsh, the vernacular in which she would always be most comfortable, that she would never live in a "Hen Ty Tin " (an old tin house), and shortly afterwards opted for one of the seemingly more robust alternatives, a brick built bungalow.

My mother had a propensity for unwise decisions and this new bungalow turned out to be extremely draughty and damp, an early example of 'Jerry- built' houses, and although they were brick built the aluminium Pre-Fabs were still going long after the bungalows had been condemned. The weather proof quality of our new house was seriously put to the test in the following year, 1947, when Britain was gripped by one of the worst winters in living memory, the unrelenting snow lasting for weeks and creating havoc. Blizzards swept the snow up to the top of our asbestos roofed bungalow, and we emerged each morning after digging our way out like Eskimos from an igloo. To me at the age of twelve it was a winter wonderland with glistening foot long icicles hanging from the trees as we snowballed and tobogganed, in spite of the intense cold gloves were a luxury, an old pair of socks sufficed. Whilst we played in the snow we were blissfully unaware of the cold until later on when we lay shivering in our beds with our chilblained feet pulsating on a 'crock' hot water bottle.

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