About the contributor

It was not entirely unexpected when the buff envelope came through the letterbox shortly after my eighteenth birthday. What was not expected were the orders to report to The Prince of Wales Colliery, Pontefract for training as a miner.
Could this be correct? Had I not passed A1 at my medical and been accepted for the Fleet Air Arm. Surely this was a mistake, No, the buff form was emphatic, if I failed to present myself at Pontefract I would be arrested and imprisoned.
No jaunty naval uniform for me.
The long standing room only, train journey north was punctuated with numerous unscheduled stops, finally arriving at a blacked out deserted Pontefract station at 1.00am, six hours late.
Cold February night, What to do? Where to sleep? A kindly policeman and a whitewashed prison cell was the answer.
Little did I know I was about to start the next four years consuming vast amounts of coal dust.
I was to be a dusteater.
Ernest Bevin had decreed it.