As an evacuee in Shropshire I lived in a lead mining village,the waste was all around us.
We actually played with the creamy white waste left after the ore was washed and ground( then smelted.) It made lovely mud pies.
Our food was grown in heavily contaminated soil as the fumes from the smelthouse blew all over the place when t he mine was still in production
The cottage where I lived had the highest rate of contamination in the garden soil but we had lovely vegetables and fruit. We had no idea at the time.
Our drinking water came from "The level",a galvanised pipe running straight out of the mine adit.
It was "filtered through sand and charcoal and was icy cold and lovely,all through the year.
We carried it in buckets on a yoke over our shoulders,like a milk maid.
Tests done in the late 1950`s proved the very high level of contamination and it was banned, a big grille put cross the adit and it was chlorinated water from somewhere else. All the village mourned the lovely fresh taste.
The village had a good proportion of people who could be termed very intelligent,some good sensible practical people and only one young woman that I can recall who had some special needs.
Teachers ,nurses, osteopaths,builders Head teachers,,musicisns,farmers and University lecturers.A general cross section of careers.
My hypothyroidism seemingly is linked to the lead I came in contact with in my childhood.
How we survived I don`t know--.
I had a lovely childhood, lead waste and all.
My garden has lots of lovely stones,barytes and some galena pieces.All from the waste site near the crushing floor, some perhaps taken out by my G.Grandfather,a shot blaster.Circa 1866-1885
after which production slowed down somewhat.
We played on the mine site,jumped on the cage suspended over the shaft on a rusting cable(I shudder now )messed about on the little saddle tank engine,changed the points and danced on the crushing floor and slid down the rusty jigger grille which sorted the size of ore.
We hung from the hook on the crane whilst the big boys wound up the big hook up again on a rusting cable.
The mine had stopped production in the early 1900s.
It is a miracle we are still here to tell the tale.
Viktoria.