[Joseph Armitage was an itinerant odd-jobs man for six years and occasionally travelled with others]

It [was] between Garstang and Lancaster that we had a both amazing and amusing encounter en route.

As we walked along the road side-by-side we were both singing “Men of Harlech”. It was a nice Spring day and we had no good reason not to be happy. 

We were passing a cottage by the roadside, a middle-aged woman rushed out of the gate in front of us and gave us a florin (a two-shilling piece, 10p) each, at the same time saying that it was years since she had heard Welsh voices singing, and it sounded lovely!

She must have thought that we were both Welsh, but although Taffy had been singing in Welsh, my version of “Men of Harlech” had been mainly English gibberish!

So to give her her money’s worth, we sang a verse of “Cwmm Rhonda” [sic] and “Oh Land of My Fathers” (I knew this in Welsh).