In the tiny town of Tregaron on Monday, I met a man who seemed to be in his sixties. We chatted a while as people do in these parts – whether they know each other or not. It was a brighter day than recently, and he commented on it.
I gave my usual response: “Whatever the weather, we have the privilege of living in Wales.”
He asked if I would ever go back to live in Wolverhampton. I told him I wouldn’t: there is a danger element there these days. “It’s safe to walk the streets here,” I said, “That’s why the recent news from Machynlleth was so shocking.”
“The violence is coming here,” he told me, “My son was stabbed to death here in Tregaron . . .
He told me the dreadful story of the murder. I was lost for words. It had happened many years ago, but – though he copes and gets on with life – the loss of his son hurts him terribly still, of course.
I encouraged him to talk. It seemed to help him.
His terrible memories serve to remind us that lawlessness in on the increase everywhere. We who care must show our caring to those about us by supporting all victims of crime.
(I posted this on my Facebook and it seemed to stir chords with my friends.)