Llangattock People

A Memory of Llangattock.

I did not know many of the people of the village or much of the history of the village.  However there were some who stay in my memory and to this day I often think about them. All too often I cannot remember their names.  I know nothing of their lives. Their trials and tribulations or indeed if they were born in the village.
One such person was a Mrs Baker (at least that's what I think her name was), a very elderly lady who lived in the centre of the village in an extremely small cottage at the rear of the shop.  The floor of the cottage was laid with flag stones, the walls were bare bricks and it had a very small fireplace and it seemed to be empty of furniture.  I suppose that I should quantify my observations of her home, by pointing out that they are the first impressions of a twelve year old boy who at the time was extremely nervous of entering into what seemed to be a very decrepid hovel and in the company of an extremely old and decrepid woman.
How wrong can one be.  She was a very gentle person and showed her good nature and loving attitude towards me just because I helped her to carry a load of kindling to her home.  I had seen her on several occasions carrying those large bundles of wood and I felt sorry for her.  When finally I overcame my fear of her and asked if I could carry it home for her she accepted my offer and I shouldered the bundle instantly realising that it was very heavy and that it was perhaps beyond my strength to go the distance to her home.  How that bent backed woman carried those loads is beyond my understanding. However I did get it home for her and was rewarded with a slice of apple tart and to my absolute embarrassment she offered me money for my help and no amount of refusal would deter her.  She would not let me go until I accepted it.  I found out in later years that she could not afford to buy coal subsisting on a very small pension which after rent would have left her with very little to live on.  Hence her need to carry wood for heating and yet despite her poverty she insisted that I take payment for helping her.  How magnificent and how sad!  I do not know what happened to her.  I know nothing of her life and yet she always remains in my memory and oddly I have always wanted to help others who are struggling and ignored by society.  I hope that God smiled on her.
Another character in the village was Arthur Hemmings (I think that was his name).  He was by today's definition mentally retarded (I think) further burdened by having artificial legs and someone we children were afraid of,    why I am not certain, and of course he was tormented by us.  Where were the adults that should have admonished us for tormenting him.  They never did!  And yet on the one occasion that I talked to Arthur it was the conversation of a childlike mind not the ravings of an ogre that we thought he was.  He was a child trapped in a crippled and old body and he also lived alone in a dilapidated hovel.  I never overcame my fear of him but I never tormented him again either.  I know nothing of Arthur's life or what happened to him.  But I remember him . and I hope God was kinder to him than we children were.
I remember the two elderly women who lived at the top end of the village, their names I cannot recall at this moment.  They seemed to devote their time to looking after injured animals.  They were very private people but were instantly changed the moment one took an injured animal to them.  I found myself in awe of their knowledge of animals and their habitats and the ability to mend injured animals.  So finding an injured animal resulted in it being taken to them for caring.  This also seemed to make them drop their reserve and one was invited into their home and we would be rewarded with a lemonade drink and a cake.  I well remember the time that my friend and I found a wounded buzzard.  Some goon had shot it and it had an enormous hole in its chest, a shotgun blast so the ladies informed us.  Again the usual reward and this time we were shown around the property and it was an amazing place. Given over to some weird and wonderful animals.  While we were being shown this, I become aware of a peculiar sound.  It seemed to be a mixture of mewing and snarling and I must admit it scared me.  At this point  
a large and very ferocious looking cat showed itself the like I had never seen before.  I knew instantly this was no ordinary cat and it looked positively dangerous.  The ladies assured us that it was not and that it was a Scottish wild cat which they had tamed.   It did not look very tame to me and I was glad to  get out of there.  It came as no surprise to find out that it had attacked the  ladies and injured them quite badly and the evil looking creature was shot.  I do not know what happened to the ladies thereafter.  Kind people but a little misguided.  Scottish wild cats cannot be tamed.               

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