We’re all used to seeing pictures of the past in stark black and white but now for the first time there’s a chance to see how the past really looked. Our new series takes applies a colorisation process to some familiar scenes in towns in Wales and the borders and transforms them in to glorious colour. If you have a picture you’d like to see featured please email it to [email protected]

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Although all roads don’t lead to Lower Monk Street in Abergavenny, this one does, so just shut up and keep driving. Once the main turnpike into the town from the Monmouth approach, the street was once known as Ireland Street because of the number of Irish immigrants that lived in the now demolished cottages. It was also home to a pub named the Omar Pasha, whose landlord Mr Roberts was a bit of a character and leading light in the local branch of the Ancient Order of Foresters. During their annual parade, Roberts would dress up as Robin Hood and lead his merry men around town. The thing is because he was blind in one eye and wore a black patch locals joked he looked more like a pirate than the top boy from Sherwood Forest. (Pic supplied )
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You can learn a lot about a town from its streets. Just check out this peach of a picture of Abergavenny's Market Street in the 1960s. Or to give it its old name - Traitor’s Lane. So-called in memory of the fateful day in 1404 when a sympathetic soul let Owain Glyndwr’s forces through a small gate, and he set about burning Abergavenny to the ground. For a century Aber laid in tatters, but it was eventually rebuilt, restored, and in the early 19th Century this area became known as ‘The Shambles.’ Each of the small shops was a butchers’ with its own slaughtering facilities on site. Blood used to drain out and practically drown the road. An Abergavenny man once recalled, “No decent person dare pass that way after nightfall.” The area became officially known as Market Street in 1881. (Pic supplied )
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Who hasn't stumbled like a contented sheep through the middle of Monmouth's Agincourt Court in the twilight of a balmy evening on their way to something special like a Pizza or a cup of frothy cappuccino? Unfortunately for the livestock in this picture, there's no place to rest their bones at the end of the trek or pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, there's simply the Priory Street slaughterhouses. Still, that's life! Or at least the end of it! The picture was taken in 1950 and the sheep are being led to their demise by Mr. Cecil Mackie. At least the weather was dry for their last walk together as a flock! (Pic supplied )