I was brought up in the small Welsh market town of Abergavenny but left at age 16 to join the merchant navy. By the time I was 21, I had already experienced the delights of ports all over the world, even the places that we were advised not to go ashore due to being classed as far too dangerous. I took no notice of the advice and enjoyed myself to the full in Costa Rica, Colombia, Panama, Honduras and even Nicaragua during the civil war. There were a few scares and events that could be described as lucky escapes but nothing so serious that it would stop my night time exploration of insalubrious establishments. My favourite place was Corinto in Nicaragua because it took ten days to load the ship with green bananas so plenty of time for naughtiness in the shanty town bars. We got carried away one night and missed the curfew so would have to stay overnight at the bar. The owner made a call and AK47 armed Sandinista Guerillas arrived in a pickup truck and took us back to the ship. I suppose it is not surprising that I began to feel bullet proof.
I came home to Abergavenny to spend part of my leave with my parents and you can imagine how boring life in this small town now seemed. An old friend was home from University and he was also suffering from boredom so one evening he borrowed his fathers car, we drove to a neighbouring town (Pontypool) to go for a swim. The plan was to swim or rather ogle girls in scanty bikinis, buy a carry out Chinese meal, eat it in the car with plastic spoons, drive back to Abergavenny and have a few pints of beer before the pubs closed. Hardly exciting but better than sitting at home in front of the television.
The swim was good and we left the leisure centre looking forward to our Chinese food. It was dark outside and there were a few unsavoury looking characters messing around near the exit but we did not give it much thought. We avoided them and walked towards the town centre. The centre was devoid of people and we were walking along the narrow main street when a group of young men appeared from an alley in front of us. It was obvious that they wanted trouble so we turned to head back the way we came but there was another group behind us. What ensued could not really be called a fight, because, outnumbered and not being fighters we were unable to defend ourselves. Punched, kicked, beaten, watches and money stolen, Gareth was on the ground and they turned their attention to trying to throw me through a shop window. Laughing they repeatedly threw me at the window and I could literally feel it bend behind me. At that moment it was not the pain of the blows and kicks that I had endured that hurt it was the realism that I was powerless to stop this and they could literally do anything they wanted to me. The hatred in their faces was incredible and frightening.
Doubled over against the window they resumed hitting me in the head and kicking Gareth on the ground but at that moment a white van came down the road and screeched to a stop. Two huge men jumped out and our attackers decided to run away, but a couple of them were captured, beaten mercilessly and left lying on the ground. Our two saviours asked if we wanted the police but we declined for which they were grateful because they were Rugby players from the Pontypool team and also played for Wales. The publicity would not necessarily be good for them. Their parting words were to never walk these streets at night because it was not safe. I thought of all the obviously dangerous places I had visited unscathed and it added to the shock that this could happen in Wales.
My parents were of course horrified but I guess in a state of shock, I felt ok and was more worried that I had missed out on my Chinese food. It was different the next morning, because I was cut, even on my back, bruised and blackeyed as well as passing blood due to blows to my kidneys. I refused to go to hospital but spent days being sick due to the shock to my system.
I am not sure what lessons I learned from this beating because when I joined my next ship the allure of the back street bars and noisy brightly lit clubs was too strong to resist. Strangely, throughout the rest of my forty plus year travels to dangerous parts of the world, I was never attacked or robbed again so my lifetime beatings are once in Abergavenny whilst still in school and one in Pontypool. Both in sleepy Wales!
There have been many occasions in my life where the outcome of events could have been serious or even fatal, but fate always seems to have stepped in to ensure that I stayed on track to meet whatever my destiny is meant to be. Were the two massive rugby players arriving in the nick of time a coincidence or fate intervening once again?
If I have learned all the major life lessons that are planned for me and have reached my destiny then I will be a happy man because life is good and I am blessed with a wonderful family.
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