Breaking the Mould - From Carbon to Silicon.
English Coursework-
Breaking the Mould
From Carbon to Silicon
“My mother sat at the table prodding at her cold dinner, she looked extremely worried. She kept reassuring me that my father would return home any minute now, I think she was just trying to reassure herself, and if anything had gone wrong down the pits; we would have be notified. Her face was a sickly grey colour and she looked as if she was about to burst into tears any minute. Thousands of men died in accidents down those cold, dank, dark pits. It was not uncommon for a whole section of tunnel to cave in, or deadly fire damp could have occured leaving 30 or so men trapped in the dark, many were never rescued, dead or alive.
The door slammed, there was the padding of dusty leather boots against the tiled floor, and my father entered the room drearily, his eyes encrusted in black soot, his face a dark, greyish powdery colour. He had smudges of black all over his face. My mother shot up from her chair shouting “Aubrey, Aubrey”, she wrapped her arms around him and started to weep emotionally.”
My father was brought up in a working class family; they lived in a council estate named Graig View, situated in a small village called Machen in the southern welsh valleys. Their life was a sharp contrast to my grand mothers childhood. She lived in a large converted chapel, although the chapel was by no means modern, my grandmothers family were reasonably well off. The old chapel is now in ruins, just an ivy covered shell of its former glory. My grandmother’s parents were extremely traditional and she had a very conservative up bringing. During the war, she left her parents reasonable wealth in turn for my grandfather, who was not fighting because he had an essential job. He was a working class man from a neighbouring village called Bedwas, he had been brought up in a very small terraced house along with his 10 brothers and 2 sisters. His upbringing was extremely religious; his father was a Plymouth revering. Throughout my grandfathers life he could quote substantial parts of the bible. He was musically, very talented and if he was richer may have had the chance to become well known, or even famous. He was also a very talented artist and painted hundreds of paintings. He painted things that inspired him; often local landscapes. My grandmother shared his passion for the arts; she played the violin, clarinet, and flute. Despite the artistic talents my grandparents showed, my father is completely tone death and is not particularly artistic.
