Cattedown gasometers filmed from the bedroom window, with Staddon Heights in the background. My paternal grandfather spent WW2 at the gasworks as a restricted trade so wasn’t conscripted to fight in WW2. He did his bit as an ARP warden at night during the fearful Blitz. The dreadful process of making town gas from coal led him to an early grave while I was living in Singapore as a child. I have a clear memory of my grandfather throwing a small bag of marbles from the top of the stairs down to me. The marbles were in a green rubberised bag with a drawstring.
The tiny two-up-two-down terrace where my father and his five siblings were raised backed on to the gasworks. It appears in The Way We Live by Jill Craigie as an example of squalid living – cheers Jill! I remember the smell from the gasometers when the extended family gathered at Home Sweet Home Terrace for Boxing Day lunch. The gasometers lasted longer than the gasworks, but were decommissioned then demolished early this century.