It was a damp, cold night in December – not one to be out in unless you really had nowhere to go. Walking down the high street in a small Wiltshire town was a lone figure. He walked as not someone who had popped out to get a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread – not someone with a mission, but someone who just needed to walk – with a purpose to keep moving. He trudged slowly on and then stopped in front of a gift shop. It was brightly lit and had all sorts of Christmas decorations, gifts and cards in the window. The man took off his backpack and laid it in the doorway, and stretched his back and shoulders, as if relieved to take the weight from his body. He stood there for about 20 minutes. He looked as though he was drinking in the light to recharge himself on this cold damp night.
He picked up the backpack and set off down the street into the countryside, coming through this village every few months, heading in the same direction, walking the same circuit. Some local farmers talked about him in the pub. They had found out that he is ex-Army and fought in Afghanistan, and that he seriously injured his leg on an IED whilst on his last tour of duty. They say what a nice guy he is – harmless and polite, never causing any trouble. Some locals have tried to get him in touch with social services to help out, but he’s not interested and moves on before a meeting can be set up. The most anyone seems to know about him is that his name is John – just John. Nothing else. He seemed to be a cheerful bloke, perhaps one day he will settle down in the village here where he would be more than welcome and join the community.
They have also had experience of him and his fear of guns, loud noises and hatred of violence. He was seen once trying to break up a fight outside the Coach and Horses, getting in between two village lads who were fighting over a girl after too much to drink. Then there was another incident when he had gone to a farm house, one of his regular stopping points, owned by local farmers Ed and Jan to ask if it was OK if he slept in their barn for the night, and suddenly, as he stood at the kitchen door he saw a shotgun on the table, and fell to his knees and began shaking and struggling for breath. They hid the gun and took him in to calm down, but he was definitely in a bad way – too many bad memories. They sat him down at the table and made him a hot sweet cup of tea. He said he didn’t want to talk about what had happened. After an hour or so, he asked to go to the barn, turning down the offer of a bed indoors. There was obviously a problem with talking about the war and he didn’t want to recall it. Ed walked him to the barn and found him a good spot with plenty of straw and Jan came with a blanket to put down and a quilt to cover him. Sally, the sheepdog waited until he had settled, and then snuggled beside him. There were several ewes in the barn that night, they were due to lamb any day and Ed didn‘t want them out in the fields, beside them was Getrude and Ethel – two donkeys who had also been brought in from the fields to keep warm, so John had plenty of company, and felt at home.
Ed and Jan were determined that this would be the last winter that John would spend walking around the countryside, sleeping in barns – it was time for action. John didn’t want help but he certainly needed it. That evening Ed went to the pub and met all the usual crowd and made them gather round, saying he had some important news, asking them to get into action as someone needed their help. He started talking about John and how enough was enough, he had to be helped to settle and know he was welcomed into the community. Immediately everyone was supporting Ed, asking in what way they could help to make this happen. Ed had made lists of what was needed – speedy action to get somewhere John could call home. Whilst Ed was rallying the guys, Jan was ringing round her local friends spreading the word of what could be donated.
The following morning Ed and Jan asked John in for breakfast, and put an idea to him. Ed said that he needed help on the farm, he was getting older and was finding all the work on his own a bit too much but felt that John would be a great help. There was a one bedroom cottage that was empty, needed some smartening up where he could live independently. John was looking at his hands, he had been thinking that he couldn’t keep walking the country lanes and needed a place to settle into. Ed’s offer had come at the right time and he felt overwhelmed – his hands were shaking. He looked up “I’ll give it a try – nothing to lose” and a broad smile spread across his face. He told them there was something he needed to do but would be back on Christmas Eve. So John walked off down the lane carrying his world with him.
Ed and Jan thought it likely that he wouldn’t come back and he was just appeasing them, not wanting to insult their kindness. But they were determined to think positively and get started on clearing out the cottage and preparing in the hope that John would return. The village worked together like an army of ants – nothing was going to stand in their way.
It was another miserable wet day when Christmas Eve came, no sign of John in the morning and it was beginning to get dark at the end of the afternoon. when Sally started barking. They looked out and saw the outline of someone walking across the yard. When Jan opened the door, Sally ran across to John, running circles around him. Ed was already calling the village to come and greet John.
John came into the kitchen and dropped his rucksack, and they sat at the table having a cuppa and trying not to look too excited.
Half an hour later there was the sound of vehicles coming into the yard – a lot of vehicles. Ed and Jan took John outside and there stood most of the village giving a round of applause.
“Walk this way” said Ed – leading John to the cottage. “We’ve done the best we can in a short time. But there’s plenty to keep you busy to make it your home. We’ve put some basics in here for you to get started”. John stood in the main room, looking round him, stunned. A sofa, two chairs, a small table, a fire in the grate. The tiny bathroom had been given the once over and clean towels were hanging on a rack.
Ed pointed him in the direction of the kitchen. Pots, pans, plates, cutlery – the village had donated all that was needed – moving in items that were surplus for them, but would be vital to get John started. They went upstairs and there was a bed with pillows, quilt, sheets, and a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. Jan opened it up and showed him all the clothes that had been donated.
John looked round totally overcome by the generosity, kindness and welcome shown by the village. This was the true meaning of Christmas – caring for others and being there for those who needed support. He had been used to the camaraderie of the army, but this was on another level.
John took a deep breath “I haven’t the words to say how much this means to me. Thank you sounds very weak. I am looking forward to being part of your community – not just now and then, but all the time and I will be here to help you all in the way you have helped me. Happy Christmas to you all. A resounding “Hurrah” came out from the crowd.
Anne Simpson
8 December 2025