The thing I most remember about that time was helping my Dad collect snow from the attic (yes, from inside the attic!) in buckets and passing them down through the trapdoor to my mother who emptied them out of the bedroom window! We lived in a typical Cynon valley terraced house on the side of the mountain and there was no felt under the slates, hence the wind had blown the snow into the attic. If we had left it, it would have thawed and brought the ceilings down - not ideal. The snow got mixed with the black dust that lined the attic floor (lathe and plaster ceilings of course) so not only was it very cold up there, it was a filthy job to boot!