A Tragic Figure

Tragic

More reminiscences from Mercury memorist, “S.H.E.” Here she remembers a lonely man from Tinwell with a much-rumoured, tragic past.

“A tragic figure was Mr. Cooch, a recluse, who lived in a nice house near Tinwell: I forget its proper name, but it was commonly called ‘Rag Hall’. It was said to have been built with money made out of marine stores. There were curious tales told about this man – that he had man-traps and guns set in the grounds to keep away intrucders; that no woman was allowed in the house; and that there were two rooms kept locked from everyone but the owner – the dining room, where was set a wedding breakfast, with wedding cake complete, untouched, and a bedroom, where, on the bed, lay the bridal array of a fair young bride, who died on her wedding day. It was said that he was never afterwards seen to smile, and he rarely spoke to anyone.

Another tale they told was that he once took a vow never to enter the village of Tinwell, and he kept it! If he wanted to go to Ketton, he crossed the foot-bridge near the Mill, crossed the meadows and railway and skirted the parish. Various reasons were given for his vow. One was that he quarrelled with the Tinwell parson, but I somehow this it had to do with the tragedy of his youth. I saw him only once or twice in the town, always alone a speaking to no one – an erest spare figure, with rigid greyish features and tragic eyes, always looking forward, but , apparently, seeing nothing. Poor soul!

His style of dress was nost eccentric. I suppose it had been in vogue once, but it was sadly out-of-date. Here is one rig-out in which I saw him: BLakc and white check trousers (the squares at least half-an-inch square), a short black velvet jacket bound with braid. a winged collar (such as is usually associated with the last Mr. W. E. Gladstone) tied round with narrow blue ribbon, in lieu of a ite; patent leather shoes and silk socks; a glengarry bonnet on the side of his head; and a silver-mounted swagger cane with tassel. Altogether a weird sight!”

The Stamford Mercury, 6th May, 1938.