A Ghostly Tale

If we go back far enough, I am certain we can meet ourselves.

Mike and I have been told before that we have known each other in a former life. Whether you believe in such things or not is rather irrelevant, this is our story, and we firmly believe it. Yesterday just set it in stone.

We drove to a tiny village, Gredzice in a farming district outside of Warsaw the home of Stanislaus Kaminski, Mikes great great great grandfather. He left his little village and family to go to England to start a new life way back in the 1870's. His father Andrzej and the rest of the family stayed. When Mike woke yesterday, he had the song "I write your name" going through his head. Not a Taylor .seift fan, but he worked out that there was a reason for it. Well in this tiny town as we drove around, a huge water tank in the back yard of a house with a huge green sign on it. On the sign in huge White letters was written "MICHAL". Do you think someone was expecting him? I'm do.  Today he woke to Joe Cocker's "I'm feeling alright" -read the lyrics. Stanislaus talking to him loud and clear.

Then we drove to Celestynow where my darling Baba was born. Baba being my grandmother. Marta. She was born in 1886 in that little town about 1.5 hours from where Mikes Stanislaus was born. We found the train station by accident. We read the info board (albeit with great difficulty, and minuscule Polish). One name that we could read was Andrzej Kaminski! But this was in my family home. Did they meet? Who knows.

We went to the little shop next to the train station, and we had our lunch in the Motorhome. Nothing exciting, and I admitted I had no idea where to make a connection, as there was no cemetery, I had no addresses, nothing.

Then, I jumped up, and said I had seen a Ghost.  Not that kind of Ghost, but a Ghost. I'll explain!

I call the big, beautiful Great Dane in our lives, my Grand Dog. Call it wanting to be a Grandma, but he's all I have so far and I love him.  His name is Ghost.  And there near the train station in Celestynow was a Blue Great Dane. The same breed, colour as my big Grand .dog.  Baba? I think so. She loved animals, especially dogs, I am her only granddaughter, and there I was in her home town. So she showed me my grandie, and if you like a Ghost just to let me know.

I'm listening Baba.  Im trying.




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Tribute to a Queen

Image
This week the sad news arrived that the Queen had died. She was regal and elegant, beautiful and proud. The Queen was a spectacular beauty, who rose to the throne not because of her parentage but because of her beauty and personality. She fitted the bill. She had the right size and shape, the right markings and showed a good temperament. She was the Chosen one. Imagine being the Chosen One and the Queen rolled into one beautiful body with a personality that shined bright like a diamond.  Who could not love the Queen? The Queen then did her duty for many years. She was a beautiful mum to her babies. These little ones went on to give joy, love and hope to many many people.  Sadly some of her babies won't grow up to remember her beauty, her warmth and the intimate feel of her.  They have been denied the physical bond of her feeding them, cleaning them and cuddling them. Don't worry they are in great hands, it's just that they are missing her for who she was. The ...
Read more

40 years

 Monday 10th October 1983 at 7am, I got on an Ansett flight to Kalgoorlie with 3 suitcases. Alone. Age 17. Not knowing what I was going to, but knowing I didn't couldn't stay where I was. One parent was trying to instill fear of the flight; her fear of being alone, of having a child fail at life, of where the child would be.  She even had a fear of my address being in a street called Nemesis. One parent told me I would always be ok, to go and live my life, and that I was loved. One grandma smiling silently and nodding as I was now in a career path she had followed over 60 years earlier in the Post Office. I never rose to the dizzying heights of Post Mistress that she reached, but she was proud. My first plane flight. My first room in a house not with my parents. My first experience living with others. So many firsts all hit in that one day and the weeks ahead. I tried to work out who I was as all I had done was care for others from the youngest age, and to people please to kee...
Read more

When is a compliment not a compliment?

Image
Three years ago, this is how I looked.  I knew I was fat! Blind Freddie could see that.  This suit was a size 22 and only fitted due to it having an elastic waistband. Nobody said anything. I'm sure if I smoked someone would have said "Give those things up they are killing you", and I'm equally sure if I drank someone would have said "You've had enough". They are the obvious drugs, the obvious addictions. Food isn't!  Everybody eats, everybody loves food.  So, it's OK not to say anything. Partly that's because fat people are perceived as weak, so you don't say anything to hurt their feelings.  You don't even use the word fat! Over the years I used to groan when someone said "Oh you're looking well!"  To me, Well equalled Fat.  Maybe they did think I was looking well, or maybe they just didn't want to screech "Oh My God You are Huge!" Either way, people were nice.  They loved being around becau...
Read more