Haunting paths

Most who read this blog will know that John and I live in an old woollen mill.

From the moment we moved in we have heard unusual noises and felt a presence of someone. I don't know what you feel about the idea of the existence of ghosts or even echoes from the past vibrating into our time. Who knows? We have often heard footsteps up to our bedroom door and opening it expecting a child to be stood there complaining of a bad tummy, need for a drink of water, my right foot itches, etc. We open the door to find nothing.

Today I again visited the Welsh woollen museum down the road from us and as I walked among the spinning wheels and machinery a strong gust of the past blew through me. Observing images of the workers looking at me from a time gone, their hardened faces and believable smiles, it makes me wonder what the stories of the workers and their lives lived out under our roof where like. We know they had a local football team and our village was once more than just "the spar" and a hairdressers, but it was a bustling, busy village, with a butchers, a fish mongers and many other little shops. I wonder what we have lost and what we have gained and at what cost?

As I pass our ghost on my way to the loo in the middle of the night tonight, I will wonder what this soul thinks of us and our twenty first century lives?