A Ghost called George

It seems to me that I often end up in conversations about ghosts.

Perhaps we all do. Certainly most people we meet seem to have a story or two about a weird thing that happened, something we can’t explain.

The thing is… over the years I’ve come to realise that I have more than a few stories.

As I look back over my life it seems that the world of ghosts, the supernatural, the oddness…. has been ever present. It is not something I really understand though I have a few theories.

This blog will catalogue these stories which someday I may compile into a book.

To be clear I’m not trying to convince anyone of anything. If anyone choses to think me a fantasist then I completely understand.

But for those willing to stretch their notion of the possible and accept I am simply telling the stories as they happened…well…

Welcome to Tales from The Veil.

George

“You’ve got a vivid imagination Mark.”

That is what my mother said to me often.

One particular day was she was busy in her bedroom, I can’t remember what she was doing.

What I was doing was looking in the mirror.

“Mum. I can see a face next to mine. A man, he looks quite old.” I was seven years old.

“It’s just your reflection Mark...stop being silly.” Mum snapped at me.

“Muuuum. I’m not being silly. I can see me and someone else.” I pleaded to Mum to believe me.

“Go and play outside then…there’s no mirrors, I’m really busy.”

I sighed and did what Mum asked. It wouldn’t be long before she didn’t think these flights of fancy were quite so silly.

A few weeks later we were in The Coffee Bean, my mum’s favourite coffee shop in the village of Minchinhampton in Gloucestershire. As usual mum was having coffee and chats on a Tuesday afternoon after school with her best friend Gudrun. I loved Tuesdays. Aside from being a seven year old a bit in love with Guddy who I considered my second mother I got to sneakily munch on sugar cubes when no one was looking.

They started talking about ghosts…Guddy had recently had an experience.

“I know a ghost.” I pipe up.

They both smile but Guddy indulges me, “Tell us about the ghost Markie.”

I bristle a bit because I don’t like being called Markie (my sisters still call me it today, I am 41).

“Well he is called George.” I begin.

“He wears funny clothes not like normal. He keeps hiding my toys for fun. He likes to play tricks. He is really interested in my starship (the millennium falcon from Star Wars) he said he has never seen that kind of ship and wants to know about it. I mustn’t tell Lizzie about his jokes because she worries too much about him and is not very well.”

A few weeks later my Grandparents were visiting from the North. My Grandfather a Dundee merchant navy engineer started to ask me about George…my mother had clearly been talking to her Dad.

I explained the same as before but added that George had told me if people keep asking about him then he would not be able to come and play with me anymore.

Many years later as a sixteen year old my mother asked me if I remembered George. I replied that I remembered talking about him and some very vague details. The information that I have just relayed is the information that my Mother told me when I was sixteen. I had not remembered about the clothes, Lizzie etc.

Then she told me…

“Do you know anything about your great grandfather? My grandfather?”

I replied “Bunkey’s Dad?” (we called my Grandfather Bunkey).

As it transpired my great grandfather was called Captain George Wilson.

He was a captain in the merchant navy. His wife was called Elizabeth but known as Lizzie.

She had polio and spent her adult life in a wheel chair.

George was famous for his sense of humour. He liked to play tricks on people but was forever worried that Lizzie would find out what he was up to.

He was a Captain at sea, certainly wearing strange clothing to a seven years old and would no doubt be confused by a space ship….

When mum told me the whole story at age sixteen I felt a slight shudder, but more so warm and happy.

She asked me if I remembered anything about George. I replied that the only thing I could really remember was that he was bald on top with hair around the side. The following week my grandparents came for lunch (they had now moved South) they bought a rare picture of George. I had never seen a picture of George.

The picture was of a man in a uniform with a bald head, hair around the side and a cheeky smile on his face.

I later learned and it is a statement of historical fact that Captain George Wilson was captured in WW1 along with many of his officers. He was taken to a prisoner of war camp from which he escaped and ended up in an open top boat with twelve men for 2 weeks before being rescued.

I truly believe this man was powerful enough to escape capture and save his men but more over powerful enough to navigate the plains of one world to another to visit his only great grandson to have one last joke and a yarn.

I feel grateful and privileged to have known him, even though it is impossible that I did.

It was not to be the last of my impossible encounters…