Time To Leave.

Saturday, 21st September was when we left Catherine’s. It’s hard leaving family, close family, whom you love, knowing you won’t see them again until at least next year. But that is the way of life today. If you still have family living by you, you are the lucky ones.

We planned to stop, 3 nights, in our journey through Belgium.

We had several reasons for our planned stops and I have to confess, they are mostly my reasons but they are things I have wanted to do for so many, many years.

First stop was Liege. This was where we believe my 2 x Great Grandfather came from. He was a Spelter Worker and left home, in Belgium, to find work in South Wales. I suspect it didn’t turn out to be the promised land for him. He married my Welsh 2 x Great Grandma, who was possibly under-age at the time, in a Register Office, which back in the early 1870s indicates something was amiss, possibly a clash of religions. They had a clutch of children and were obviously poor. Paul died, at the age of 39, from a severe chest infection. No doubt, in part, due to his occupation and today, probably would have been saved by anti-biotics. His widow Margaret was left with a collection of children, the youngest being James, who followed his father to the grave just a few weeks later, aged 2.

Margaret took the best option for her, in such difficult circumstances and took in a Lodger, William Davies, who was very soon more than a lodger. Margaret gave birth to twins and this was brought up in Court, when she was attacked by a Belgian neighbour. The circumstances of their lives seem to have been dreadful. Her 13 year old daughter, Mary Josephine, my Great-Grandmother, was sexually assaulted by a local young man but the case was dismissed, due to lack of an independent witness. At that time.Mary had a good job, in service at a large house. She lost her position.

The hardships endured by this family of mine have, since I learned about them, made them a very deeply connected part of my life. There are far more heart-wrenching tales to be told but not here. However, this is why I was so anxious to actually set foot in the City Paul Louwet had originated from.

My family history research (my passion) found several fellow descendants from this unlikely coupling and thanks to Marylou, I finally had a photo of Paul Louwet, who turned out to be exactly the dark haired, striking looking man I had always imagined him to be.

So now I was going to see the land of his birth.

I have to say, to anyone considering driving into Liege, don’t!! What a bloody nightmare. No wonder Paul was so keen to go to Swansea. Liege is huge today and confusingly has two rivers to deal with and bridges all over the place, not to mention roads, closed, due to some strange new road plan that seems to have been abandoned mid course.

I don’t know where exactly Paul lived and have no doubt he would have recognised very little of the City today.

One of the things I had learned during my research is, that Paul was more than likely Roman Catholic and although I had no idea where I was going, I was drawn to a large, ancient church.

Maybe I found a place I could share with Paul, who has been in a special place in my heart since, I was a child. Whatever the truth, I found it a very moving experience, standing quietly at the back, listening to a service.

The photo of Paul would have been taken in Swansea, around 1880 and the child is more than likely Edward. Edward married in London and was living with his wife Cecilia, in Ladbroke Grove, prior to his death in Brompton Hospital, from TB, at the age of 29.