Unusual Upbringing. Re-Posted from 2016

As I’ve mentioned before in earlier posts my upbringing was unusual, unusual, that is compared with most of my peers. Until I was 6 I travelled around the UK with my family in a horse drawn wagon, then we changed to motorised transport. The family consisted of Mother and Father, myself and two brothers and we were considered a small family back then because 10 or 12 Chavvies (Children) were quite common with travellers.

It was around this time my Father had an accident on one of the fairgrounds we were working and the outcome was he was confined to a wheelchair. Now it doesn’t take a genius to realise that wheelchairs, caravans and muddy fields do not go together too well, so, it was inevitable my parents moved into a bungalow. The feeling was unbearable I can tell you, it was like being in prison, not that I had ever been in one mind! I was fortunate, able to carry on travelling with my Grand Parents, they had upgraded to motor transport by this time and the Vardo (Caravan) was like a palace compared to the old horse wagon. I actually slept inside instead of outside underneath as was the case when travelling in the wagon. You’re probably wondering how that worked, yes? Well under that horse wagon we would put lots of straw or hay covered with a thick blanket and covered ourselves with cosy eiderdowns. A specially made tarpaulin hooked round the bottom of the wagon to keep out the wind and rain.  Mother and Father slept inside in the one and only bed.

One day while visiting Oxford St. Giles Fair my grandfather asked me to go into town to buy a few articles and it was whilst I was walking through the market hall I had a most peculiar feeling come over me. I started sweating profusely, had a very bad headache and felt like I was going to be sick. A man with a fruit stall asked me if I was OK and gave me a chair and a drink of water. All of a sudden I could hear my Grandfather calling my name and asking me to come quickly. I was puzzled because I was about half an hours walk from St. Giles square where the fair was, how could I possibly hear him from that distance?.

My first thoughts were to get back as quickly as I could so I asked a taxi driver to take me, he was very suspicious at a 12 year old boy and not the best dressed one at that either. Show me your money he demanded, unfortunately I only had two pence left but I said my grandfather would pay him when we go there. Who is your grandfather he asked. Gypsy Petulengro I replied. The Petulengro who writes in the ‘Sunday Chronicle’? YES I said. OK jump in and off we went.

Now the St, Giles fair is in one of the main streets in Oxford so we were able to drive right up to the caravan. When I opened the door my Grandfather was lying on the floor moaning. The taxi driver made no more to do, he lifted Granddad into the car and took him to the local hospital where it was decided he had suffered a mild stroke.

The was my very first personal experience of a premonition, today it’s called clairvoyance, clairaudience, etc. until that day I never had any inclination to follow in the family tradition of fortune telling, palm reading or crystal gazing. Although I have done other things in my life in many countries I always returned to my roots. Once a gypsy always a gypsy and although I’m now settled in a house in a nice mountain village in Granada, Spain after 70+ years I still get the strong urge to be on the move again.

Happy Days

Until next time …………..

 

 

 

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