My Grandfather

My mother was brought up in Burma and when we were children, she often regaled us with tales of her life there.  To me, the most interesting stories involved my grandfather, who was a mounted policeman in Rangoon.  His horse was a black mare called Rosie and there was a strong bond between them.  Often, after finishing his days work, my grandfather would go to the men’s club and after downing a few too many whiskeys he would mount his horse and go home.  Rosie knew the way and always got him home safe and sound.  My grandfather would arrive home, sat ramrod straight in the saddle, with his head on his chest, snoring.  He wept like a baby when that horse died.  When war began my grandfather returned to this country, though not to his native Lancashire.  Sadly, he died before I was born, but his memory lives on.



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7 responses to “My Grandfather


    It is always interesting to learn of ower past , It is part of who we are now

  2. Martin

    I can picture the scene, perfectly :-) those kind of stories are priceless


    Hey pen,i thank my lucky stars every day for finding steph,i know how precious our love is and strive to keep it alive,fresh and burning hence the romance and the little love notes,not forgetting the simple words of i love you more than once a day!hope you are having a great day,hugs m xs

  4. Robin

    Lovely story Penny.

  5. Sheila

    This is a lovely story Pen I can picture this quite clearly.

  6. Technogran

    What a wonderful story Pen. Horses can be so faithful can’t they?

  7. Paul

    Seeing where your mother was raised and imagining what that woulkd be like, I think what a completely different upbringing I had. I am always fascinated in history. Thanks.

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