"That'll be enough," and we would get on with our work.

But if Llew got to hear of anyone wanting to get away early, they wouldn't. When about to leave, they'd find their coat sleeves packed tight with sawdust, or their clocking-in card missing. On one such occasion, we were all completely locked in, as Mr. Butler's keys had gone missing.

"Llew? Len and I are leavin' early. Have you seen the keys?" I asked patiently. Straight away, on went his grin, followed by his poker face, and then:

"I'm busy!  Not now!"  said he, walking away.

Len and I went back to our benches and waited. It got to within five minutes of finishing time, when Llew started his amateur dramatics, turning timbers over, shaking his head. Then he pointed down at the keys.

"Well, I never!"  And of course it was 5:00 pm, on the dot.

Another habit he had was that he never placed any of his machined timber down by our workbenches with care. No, they had to be thrown from some distance, and to where he intended they should end up. When Llew switched off his machines, we dropped everything, looked to see where he was, and stood well back. Timbers of all sizes would come hurtling through the air and land by the bench he was aiming at, duly followed by his grin to everybody, signifying he had finished his deliveries.

Len and I had special permission to leave early, one afternoon, to go to a dance up the valleys, and were told that provided we finished what we had to plane up, we could leave. Our  arms were going like pistons, when over my shoulder the grin appeared. It was Llew. He whispered,

"There's power for you!  Power!"

"Oh… no…"  I groaned.

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