Hilda Griffiths, or "Auntie Da" as she was universally known, was
probably the most important person in my life as a child. She had never
married, and lived the quiet life of a genteel early twentieth century
lady. She had a lovely house in which she lived alone in Abersychan, just
down the hill from The Farm, where lived her widowed sister-in-law with
daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter. A good part of her time was
occupied by acting as Secretary and general organiser for a small
Congregational Chapel, where she also played the organ.
My weekends and holidays with Auntie Da, spent mostly either on bus trips
(which we both loved!) or in her beautiful garden, were the only things
which made my unhappy childhood bearable. She was kind, lively, and
enormously patient yet with a mind as sharp as a razor. When I contracted
a serious viral illness at the age of eleven I insisted that I should go
to stay with her to recover (for eight months as it turned out) rather
than stay at home. She must have had mixed feelings about this, but never
showed anything but care, love and tenderness. I can honestly say that
she was the most perfect human being I have ever known.
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