READING recent correspondence about the mines (HAS, June 24) brought back memories.

I was in my 30s and my dad Cyril Crane had permission to take a southern friend of his for a visit underground.

I asked if I could go as well and was given permission too.

It was a Sunday morning and my husband Jim was already working underground as a fitter.

It was an experience I would not have missed, seeing how my husband had to work everyday.

I appreciated the conditions he and his workmates had to work in. At one point I needed to use the loo and was pointed in the direction of a dark tunnel.

We also had to jump on a man-riding belt. I was terrified but had to do it.

Another time we had to crawl on our hands and knees. I was behind my dad's friend and his battery pouch got caught on the roof, he was screaming like a banshee until I worked it loose.

When we got to the surface I obviously couldn't use the showers, so had to walk about three quarters of a mile on the main road to my home, passing people on the way to church. To say I was mortified was an understatement. I just hoped they didn't recognise me.

Margaret Smith, Blackhall, Hartlepool.