It's a small world.

I just read Nina's latest blog here and got the urge to share a true story with you all.

My last home was an old stone cottage called " The Belfry" it was an end cottage on a row of four. Ours was at the end of the lane next to a graveyard. It was an old graveyard with a ruined chapel and some amazing old headstones, the old wrought iron gates were always locked and the keys could be obtained from the town hall.

I never worked from home but this particular day I was waiting for a delivery so I did. In the afternoon there was a knock at the door ....an elderly gentleman from New Zealand asked if I had keys to get in the graveyard, I directed him to the  town hall. He briefly told me that he was over on holiday tracing his family history.

So now I have to step back in time to two days previously. The cottage dated back to 1880 and the solicitor rang to ask if I wanted all the old deeds as they were to be shredded as they had all been scanned to disk. So off I trotted to collect an amazing bundle of old parchments tied with red ribbon.

The elderly gentleman returned with keys and thanked me for helping him and he strolled into the graveyard to search for his ancestory. For some reason I asked his family name .....Murray......( hmmmmm ) It rang a bell I rushed upstairs to get the bundle and lo and behold one of the names was, you've guessed it " Murray "

I walked into the graveyard overgrown to waist height and said this wont be the same "Murray" so don't get too excited but, anyway the gentleman had a letter from his great grandfather with his signature and would you believe it the signatures matched. His great grandfather was once the owner of my home. I invited him in  for a look around, our cottage luckily had kept most of the original features doors etc. The man delicately touched the old worn brass door handles, his eyes filled with tears. As did mine, he walked round my home with utter disbelief on his face.Touching doors,walls and handles his great grandfather would have touched. We sat in the garden over a cup of tea and discussed what life would have been like back then.

He couldn't thank me enough, in his wildest dreams he didn't expect to actually find his grave let alone the house he lived in. I scanned the original deeds for him to add to his family tree.

He returned the next day with his wife and a huge bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine, a shell magnet from New Zealand ( which is still on my fridge, 5 years and two house moves later ) and an open invitation to visit him if I ever travelled to New Zealand.

Fate.....I shouldn't have been at home that day. It even made the local paper article here