GILBERTS by Kath Harpley 2018

THE GILBERT FAMILY

Written by Kath Harpley (nee Gilbert) 30 June 2018

________________________________________________________________

Boris, Mark with Antonia, Jo with Katherine, Alex

My mother, Josephine (Jo) has written an enlightening account of the family history reliving memories of her parents and grandparents and what life was like in her childhood and in a separate document recounts my father's early life in Poland, Siberia and WW2. Aunty Margaret's, (Mum's sister) eulogy of mum recalls their life as children with great affection. Rather than letting history stop there, when mum and dad had just two children, Alex and Boris, I now recount what happened next....


Antonia and I (Katherine) were born 24/4/1959. We, 'the twins', made our first and life long friend, Karen Marsh on Thorncliffe Road, Mapperley Park, Nottingham when we were about 4 years old. This was the first house I remember. Dad was a painter and decorator at this time and mum stayed home to look after the blossoming family, as was common practice. It was a big house and we had lodgers. Mum became good friends with Karen's mum-Joyce. I think both mothers had a difficult time as they were balancing a tight budget. At this time we had 2 brothers, Alex, born 1950, Boris born 1952. It occurred to me years later that we were actually born only a short time after the end of WW2 (15 yrs) and rationing was still very much a memory (rationing finished in 1954) and the country was still recovering. Our clothes were mostly home made as mum used to knit and sew and things were recycled and passed down to the next generation. Andrew the youngest of the 5 was born in 1963 and he was the reluctant recipient of most of the ‘hand-me-downs’! Dad worked long hours and we did not see much of him in the early years. He fell off a roof he was working on and broke a leg (I think). Tonia and I of course helped, in our childish way to nurse him better. That was the last roof work he did. There was a second-earlier roof incident when he was working up high and a chimney fell apart. (see Newspaper article). He held it together until the firemen arrived.

We were still very young when the whole family moved to Lowdham around the mid 1960's. Mum and Dad bought the hardware shop which is in the centre of the village, with ample living accommodation. Mum worked in the shop mostly, and dad still did painting and decorating. We had a vehicle at this time, firstly a Bedford Van and then as the business prospered, dad bought a 12 seater Landrover which amply accommodated the boisterous family and Dads paraffin round (not both together). Paraffin heaters were common at that time and dad used to deliver to all the local villages where locals would buy a half gallon or gallon a week. This was before most people had cars.

The hardware shop at Lowdham

We had a large back yard under which were paraffin tanks. One of Boris’s chores was to sit in a small shed with a hand pump which he had to use to pump up paraffin from underground to the smaller tank just at the back of the shop. We also had a mangle in the back yard to squeeze the washing of water before hanging it to dry. There was a copper where water was boiled for the washing. I don't recall this ever being used and maybe it was a relic from a previous generation. The day mum got a twin tub to do the washing in was so exciting followed years later by the first automatic. We all just sat and watched it going round and round. When we were deemed old enough, we all did turns at serving in the shop. Nails were weighed out and screws counted. We sold paint wallpaper, the B&Q of its day. At a time before Sunday opening, it was not uncommon for locals to knock on the door as we were having Sunday lunch, for some diy item that they needed immediately. We always helped and dad would give advice. I could cite lots of fond memories from our years at Lowdham as they were happy years of growing up in a village where there was freedom to explore and to experience a lovely country life. Here are some of them:

Village life was good. We enjoyed the local school. At that time we all turned up, including the teachers, no matter what the weather and even if the boiler broke. We played all the usual playground games of which I think hopscotch was my favourite, had free milk mid morning, which would be frozen in winter, and if we got wet going to school or during the breaks we dried our clothes on the radiators. Mr Amos, our teacher would throw the black board rubber (a hard wooden block) at any child that was misbehaving. He couldn't do that now!! Mum and dad worked hard and mum cooked for all 7 of us. There were lots of stews, fish on Fridays when the fish man came round. She did some amazing puddings, suet puddings, crumbles, pies, egg custard which we all enjoyed. Occasionally dad would get involved and we would have his native dishes: Borshe (beetroot stew), Pierogi (pasta dumplings filled with cheese and potato or beagus-sauerkraut and then fried in butter and onions). The family dog was call Speck. She, a collie cross, was of course adored. She always greeted visitors but wo-be-tide if anyone tried to take anything away with them like the laundry man who came weekly to take the sheets for washing. She always greeted him fondly but snarled when he picked the bundles up to leave.

Alex, Boris, Mark at Sherwood Forest

On Sundays we would often go out to Sherwood Forest or Derbyshire and many a time the camping stove would come out. In the autumn we would go spud bashing – potato picking for Farmer Preston where we would be paid a pittance for a days back breaking work. I guess as youngsters we probably did not pick much. There was a local orchard where we went scrumping for plums, damsons and apples. Mum made jam and the damson variety became quite tiresome as when one years stock ran out the next lot was being made.

It was also a family occasion to go blackberry picking once a year near Belvoir Castle. The hands were always torn to shreds after this event but the apple and blackberry pies, crumbles and suet puddings with custard were delicious.

Kath on Moses

I love animals and got involved with horses. Mum got me a Saturday job at Hagg Farm Gonalstone, helping with hunting horses and rides out. I even got to go fox hunting on a couple of occasions (this was way before it was banned). I was allowed out by myself with these great big horses and I recall the adrenaline rush of jumping a 5 bar gate which I am sure I was not supposed to do. My 2 favourite horses were Butterscotch a lovely golden chestnut and Moses a dark bay cobby horse with a hogged mane. Both had lovely gentle temperaments and were a joy to be around.

Just one further memory, Feb 1971 saw decimalisation. I was 11, going on 12. All the prices in the shop had to be changed over from pounds, shillings and pence (12 pence to a shilling and 20 shillings to a pound) to the new, easier to understand decimalisation. This was done manually-no calculators then!! A silver shilling became 5p and silver 2 shillings 10p a ten bob note became 50p and so on. As this had to be done on a single day, Sunday when the shop was closed mum asked Aunty Margaret and Uncle Stuart and I think, their friends the Pickerings over to help and of course Tonia and I had to lend a hand. We got really good at doing the conversions quickly and when we went to school on the following Monday and did a class on the new coinage, we were just the stars of the class-mustard.

Marshall Hill Drive

Dad had a heart attack around 1970 and it was soon after this that the shop was sold and we moved to a 3 bed detached house on Marshall Hill Drive, Mapperley. Alex and Boris had left home by this time. Within a few years mum and dad separated and then got divorced. This was very upsetting for the 3 of us still at home as we had never suspected that anything was wrong.

Mum later married Bob Ellis and was happy in that relationship for ever after. Mum worked at Jessops (now John Lewis) She and Bob lived in Carlton for a number of years. Bob was retired. Mum then worked for Gedling Borough Council until they eventually pensioned her off with a nice deal including her small maisonette at Lambley which she eventually purchased. She enjoyed many hobbies including researching the family history taking the family tree back to the mid 1700's, contacting long lost family and local history. She got involved in village life and was on many committees. She was a member of the Gedling WI and was its Chair for a number of years. She had lots of friends and because of her involvement with so many things was missed by many when she died

I recall often phoning her to sort out meeting up for a drink or family meal and she would always have to get her diary to see when she could fit us in. As active as she was, she was also clumsy and was renown for gluing pots together that she had broken. A tube of araldite was never far from her hand. This was a source of amusement in the family. Mum was also a fanatical gardener and Bob was happy to assist all her plans. At Carlton she had a big garden and they grew veg as well as a lovely floral sitting area. When they moved to Lambley the garden was small but none the less lovely, full of flowers all the time. In her last days in hospital she was unable to speak. She wrote in a notebook 'I just want to be able to sit in my garden this summer. It's small and I love it'.

Dad never really got over the divorce. He was a difficult man at times and could be very stern, especially when we got to be teenagers, exerting his very strong and what we felt were outdated views on us all. If I were to look deeper into this I would also say that as Mum had got pregnant before marriage he was overprotecting us and also as Boris had been a mischievous but charming child he was not going to let Tonia and me follow in that suit. We were more timid than Boris and we felt that dad was a bully. I believe Boris also thought this. I don't mean that he was a physical bully although he was not averse to punishing bad behaviour, but just that he was overbearing and too restrictive. I have to emphasise here that he loved us very much and given what he had gone through as a child, he probably felt the need to over protect. Dad retired when we moved to Mapperley. Not a man for friends or hobbies he spent a lot of time alone whilst mum worked and we were at school. However he did cook and look after the family whilst mum was working. He was a good cook and did an admiral job. However I recall cups of tea so strong you could stand your spoon up in them. Put me off tea for life. Of course he could turn his hand to any diy task. It has to be said that he always had time for us. We were well fed and looked after and in times of need he offered a shelter, like when I separated from my first husband, I went back to live with him and became quite close to him. He helped me buy a house and showed me how to decorate.

Mark and Dorothy

After he separated from mum, he moved to Arnold. He met Dorothy McNulty, a retired school teacher, from Stockport. I believe they met in London when they had both separately gone for a weekend. They had a long term relationship but never fully lived together. At one point he did want to move to Stockport. He asked for our opinions and I said I would miss him. This stopped him moving. I now regret my selfishness as I am sure he would have found happiness with Dorothy. Dorothy always had a small dog. The most memorable was Badger, a Jack Russell cross.

Badger absolutely adored Goldie (my yellow Labrador). They were the greatest of friends, robustly playing together and looking out for one another. Dorothy outlived Dad by a number of years and we kept in touch.

Alex worked his apprenticeship at Raleigh Bikes, one of the big manufacturing plants in Nottingham and then did several jobs before emigrating to S Africa with his first wife Maria where he had 2 children, Rupert and Claudia before returning back alone to England some years later to marry his second wife Sharron, and to become a landlord, buying houses in Bath and renting them out to students. He has also dealt in antiques for all of his adult life, buying and selling. Of all of us 5 he is probably the most academically minded in his reading and learning. He probably gets this from mum who was a great reader and her book case was full of historical, architectural and art books. A relative described Alex as very intense which I think is correct and he himself would probably agree with.

Sharron (Alex's second wife),
Jo, Claudia and Rupert in South Africa

Alex’s daughter Claudia Married Cormac  in 2010 and they have two children. Jim and I went to their wedding in South Africa which was lovely. I recall saying to Jim that as we were the only relatives, other than parents, she had at the wedding that we should make a good impression. He took me at my word about the impression bit and got over enthusiastic on the dance floor after consuming maybe one or two, too many whiskeys, the outcome being that in one swift move he managed to tear his shirt apart, ripping all the buttons off and revealing his chest to all. Claudia's brother, Rupert is still enjoying being a free young man. Rupert and Claudia are both sporty and have inherited the families favourite past time of cycling. Jo used to cycle in her youth, her father used a bike for transport until he had an accident and was killed, Alex is a road rider and raced in his youth, Kath and Jim have mountain biked at club level for many years and Rupert and Claudia enjoy the off road sports of BMX and mountain biking.

Boris

Boris joined the RAF (see his account). This was a high point in his life and no doubt gave him space to direct his mischievous personality. In the village if trouble was kicking off then Boris, no doubt the ring leader, was generally in the middle of it, like the time he and his mates were using the marquee which had been erected for the annual summer festival, as a slide. Climbing onto the high point and then sliding down. I can see the pleasure in this and had I been old enough I too would have enjoyed the fun. He was brought home by the village bobby and I am sure that dad would have dealt justice, usually the belt across the bottom – shock horror now, but swift justice in those days.

Douglas and Adrian

Boris married Janette on the conception of their first child-Douglas, History repeating itself! A second child Adrian followed. Both Douglas and Adrian are now married and have children and Boris and Sue (second wife) are adoring and doting grandparents. Boris, Janette and the boys lived in Janette's home town of Bedford. On leaving the RAF Boris had a number of jobs, I recall milkman, postman and bus driver. Following his divorce he lived with Linda and ran a kiss-a-gram and fancy dress company.  No doubt his sunny disposition held him in good stead for this fun occupation.  Self employment suits Boris, no doubt being more flexible than having a boss. He married his second wife Sue around 2013. They run a Barber and hair-dresses in Bedford and organize car rally holidays which they enjoy. Boris is a Santa Clause sort of person with his lovely generous jolly character and fine stature.

During our teens Tonia and I went to Gedling Comprehensive school which wasn't the nicest time of our lives. Coming from a quite village where everyone was nice, we were fish out of water mixing with people whom we were not on a wavelength with. We were verbally bullied, nothing physical but enough to make life uncomfortable. The saving grace in my life was that I had graduated to riding race horses at Jericho Farm, Lambley. I spent all Saturday there, mucking out, cleaning tack and riding these fantastic thoroughbreds. I always wanted my own horse but family finances did not permit. However, in retrospect I think I did better than that as I was privileged to have been given the opportunity of riding bigger and better horses and I didn't have to get up at 'stupid o'clock' to feed and muck out. If race days fell on a Saturday or during school holidays I was taken along to groom. The horses always knew when they are going racing and got excited. 

We enjoyed the local teenage disco on Saturday nights at the Carlton Forum dancing to music of the 70's, Queen, Baycity Rollers, T-Rex, Sweet, Wizard, Slade, all the motown divas and of course Tonia's idol-Donny Osmond. We had several boyfriends along the way. Our best friends at this time were the Ceriati brothers who's parents were Italian and Pete Carlin and Colin. We would sit and play cards and chess and listen to Elvis all night. Tonia and I still adore Elvis and recently went to a concert at the NEC with the Philharmonic orchestra and him on the big screen.

Tonia and I had several other Saturday jobs as we got older, catering, hair-dresses, Smith & Englefield selling handbags, petrol station. Tonia went to college to study textile manufacturing which was one of the great industries in Nottingham. I always wanted to work with horses but sense got the better of me and my first job was with Lloyds Bank as a clerk in the days before computers when everything was processed manually. This stood me in good stead as I went on to spend a couple of years with the Halifax Building Society and then worked for a horse clothing manufacturer (I got my equestrian fix after all). I worked there for 25 years and ended up managing the whole company. This was a good period in my life as I got to do some good stuff, organising big equestrian events with Ian Stark the Olympic 3 day Event rider, Sylva Loch of the Spanish Dressage descent and work with Lee Pearson the Paralympic dressage rider. I went to many trade shows in Dubai, China, Germany and of course the UK and I organised photo shoots one of which was at Belvoir Castle. My involvement with horses was on a different level to my intended path but probably more interesting and financially rewarding. I later went self employed making the same products but using the local prison, Lowdham Grange to manufacture.

Antonia and Phillip wedding 1977
Left to right-(the people I can identify): Stuart Watts (aunty Margaret's husband), Mark Gilbert, bridesmaid Karen Marsh, Aunty Margaret (in white), Barbara (in red)with 2 small children, Steve (brown jacket-grooms brother), Groom and bride-Phillip, Antonia, Katherine (me-with scarf, Andrew, Alex (tall-at back), Rachael Folwell (bridesmaid) Jo(yellow scarf) and Maria (blue trouser suit-Alex's wife). Front row Boris with Douglas and Janette.

Wesley,Vincent, Gregory Johnson

Romantically, Tonia met and married Phil Johnson and had 3 children Gregory, Vincent and Wesley. At the time of writing Gregory has 3 boys (as of Jan 2020 also one daughter) and Vincent a boy and girl. Tonia divorced in her 40's and later married Graham Walker. They are just in the process of moving to Whitby, where Jim and I have had a bungalow for 3 years. They intend to retire in a years time. Both Graham and Tonia adore their children and grandchildren and enjoy spending time with them. Tonia's life long passion has been motorbikes and she has shared this with both Phil and then Graham. They belong to motor bike clubs and ride to weekend rallies. In the younger years I recall it was not uncommon for some riders at rallies to drink many pints of ale and then ride. Unthinkable now. There were not the speed camera's on the roads then and riding was a pleasure as you could open up and enjoy the country roads.

I made a poor first marriage. The 3 of us left at home after mum and dad separated suffered as our security had been bashed, Feeling insecure I married too young. Alan lasted just a year, neither of our faults just that we were not right for one another. I then had an interim relationship buying a house in West Bridgford for just £8000. It was a wreck which we renovated. I wish I still had that house as it is worth over £300,000 now. Jim was the boy next door (but 2). I met and made friends with his mum, Phyllis first and she introduced us. We

Dorothy, Jim, Goldie, Katherine (me),
Mark and Antonia (pregnant with Vincent)

both had dogs at that time and so enjoyed many walks. At this time I have to say more about Goldie the Labrador who was the sweetest kindest most loving, loyal dog and a treasure in my life. She was a fantastic swimmer and would dive to about 2 metres to retrieve a stone. Her failing was that she would roll in anything smelly, especially, rotten fish on the river bank – yuk! Jim and I fell in love, got married 5 years later and have been married for 29 years. 

Field Close, Gedling.

Bungalow Whitby

We fully renovated several houses and eventually bought a bungalow in Gedling which is lovely on a third acre plot and have been here for 24 years.

Recently retired (hence having time for this project) we bought a second bungalow in Whitby 3 years ago which I am hoping we will retire to – we will see. Anyhow before we get to this point I need to say something about our lives together. We have had a good life together (I hope Jim thinks so too!) We have both worked hard, duel income, no kids-by design which has enabled us to do some incredible, adrenaline junkie things and travel the world. We never worked out how kids could enhance our life and so never had any and we were enjoying having money in our pockets and doing lots of things. 

Rim to rim of the Grand Canyon

Pot holing

Our memories are other peoples dreams. Our passion has been mountain biking, riding with NATS mountain bike club (which I chaired for a number of years) in the Peak District, The Lakes, Yorkshire, Wales, Scotland. And many trail centres. We have dabbled with rock climbing and caving. I took a holiday one year to Iceland and mountain biked across it with a group. We have hiked across the Grand Canyon (rim to rim), we have white water rafted the Colorado, through the Grand Canyon, Climbed the Half Dome in Yosemite NP, Mountain biked down Snowden, Canyoned down a mountain in Italy, off road motor biked many times on Greek islands, Walked on the Great Wall of China, Been down a pyramid and travelled

Mt Hoverla, Ukraine

to many countries enjoying different cultures and experiences. 

Kath with Rosie
in back garden, Gedling.

3 years ago when Jim's mum died we inherited a Jack Russell-Rosie. She bosses us around with her daily demands, chases the squirrels and birds in the garden but is so adorable that she gets away with mischief. She is a great part of our lives but the down side of this is that we don't go abroad so much any more. Hopefully travel will resume upon her demise, not that I am wishing here gone as she brings so many other positive and happy things to our lives like healthy long walks, mountain biking in the woods where she happily runs ahead, drinks in the pub where she goes along to for treats from the landlord, affection and cuddles. Motorbikes have also been a part of our lives as has Jim's Porsche. 

Antonia, Boris, Jim & Kath

Of all my siblings, I am the family organiser and responsible for getting us all together for some activity. This has been walks in the peaks, a weekend in Yorkshire, a day at the races, War Weekend and this year a weekend in Whitby.

Grassington weekend:
back: Wesley & Vincent Johnson, Douglas & Adrian Gilbert
front: Jo Ellis, Katherine Harpley Rupert von Tutschek,
Gregory Johnson, Jim Harpley, Phil Johnson

Last but not least the sweetest of us all. Well everyone says Andrew is sweet. Mum always used to say that he was the one to bounce ideas off and he would come up with rational responses. Andrew the youngest of the 5, spent his early life in Lowdham which like the rest of us, he enjoyed and had friends in the local village school and went to cubs. He recalled to me, as a youngster, he and his pals would collect bottles from the back of the pub across the road. You used to buy pop in a glass bottle and there was a deposit which you got back if you returned the bottle. The boys would then take the bottles into the front of the pub where there was a serving window and collect the deposit on the bottles. Mischievous!! Andrew shares Mum's love of gardening. I have a big garden and see it as a chore although I love being in the garden on a sunny day. Andrew and Mum both love doing the garden and making it beautiful. Like Tonia and myself, Andrew suffered when Mum and Dad split up. He went to live with Mum and Bob (her second husband). Bob who was getting on a bit and set in his ways, found him difficult but actually he was just a normal teenager pushing the boundaries. I have no doubt that had they met later in life that they would get on together just fine. Andrew got a job at Leicester Place, a night club which he ended up managing for a number of years. I think this was probably the happiest part of his life as he had lots of friends, parties and a good lively social life.  He then moved with his pal Mally to Manchester where he got a job on the Railway and is still there now. Once or twice a year we meet up in the Peak District and do a walk followed by a pub lunch. Like me and Tonia, Andrew likes to have a dog in his life to get him out walking. These are generally big Labs or Ridgebacks that fill a room when they enter.

All of us siblings and our spouses are everyday practical people who just knuckle down and get on with things. None of us are great academics but we achieve in other things and get things done. Mum and dad were both practical, down to earth people and that has rubbed off on us all.

I wrap this up by saying that we have been fortunate to have been born post war in a time of wealth when the national health service and education has been at its best. We were lucky to have parents who loved us and who taught us good life skills and we were lucky to have enough of everything so we could enjoy life without too much stress. At a time when we are just about to exit the European Union it remains to be seen what the next generation will experience. 

Jo, Katherine, Antonia, Alex
Boris, Andrew

During her last last spell in hospital, Mum requested a village funeral and she wrote  in her notebook:

'There's something about a village funeral in an old church that links the generations, believers or not. Mediaeval people we know nothing about, christenings, marriages, death. They all end up in the churchyard.'

She also wrote:

'I am blessed in my family and friends'.

Bless you Mum xx

Kath Harpley

2018

MARK GILBERT by Dorothy McNulty 1998

MARK GILBERT

29^th December 1923 - 25^th December 1993

Written by Dorothy McNulty in 1998 Dorothy (or Dotterty as Mark called her, with his Ukrainian slant). Dorothy was his long term lady friend. Dorothy lived in Stockport. They met in London when they had both, separately, gone for a weekend.

Mark and Dorothy at Clumber Park

Katherine asked me to write about Mark soon after his death, but for a long time, I found the task too heartbreaking. However, now that some time has passed and having read Vincent’s beautiful book about his Grandpa, I have decided that I must make my contribution.

I shall not attempt a life history because this has already been done very comprehensively and sympathetically by Josephine and I could only cover the same ground. So I shall give a series of snapshots, impressions and anecdotes of Mark’s life which might throw some light on the character and help to keep alive the memory of this remarkable and very loveable man.

Mark had knowledge of and ability to speak and write in at least five languages (including three alphabets!) most of which he learned the hard way, i.e. by being thrown in at the deep end and getting on with it, rather than being gently nursed into it by an educational institution. The result was that his English was sprinkled with some lovely malapropisms which it would have been a pity to correct. I still cherish the moment he announced that there was something wrong with the propellers on his coat and the day when he had a pain in his elbum. When he succeeded in making a repair so that something would work again, he would say with satisfaction, “That should play the trick”. Sometimes a Russian saying would make an appearance. I remember one of the dogs opening its jaws in an enormous canine yawn as only dogs can. Mark peered down the animals throat, saying in mock astonishment, “I can see Moscow”.

Life and events in Russia were often very sad but his keen sense of humour never failed to spot the funny side, if there was one. This ability to smile in the face of hardship was one of his great strengths and must have been an important factor in his survival.

His descriptions and stories of life in Kharkov prison always conjured up a picture of pervading greyness and of men dragging themselves through a life of sickening dull routine and deprivation. The prison was overcrowded , with many men to a cell and only the floor to sleep on. Blankets were only a distant luxury. At night the men lay down on the floor, packed so tightly that movement was nearly impossible. They would remain still until someone felt an irresistible urge to turn over. In complete silence and without any complaint or sign of irritation every single one of them, like automata, would sit-up, turn over and settle down again. In answer to the question, “How could you bear such overcrowding?”, Mark would say “It was the Russian winter and the warmth of our bodies was the only heat we had. Without it, we would have suffered even more intense cold”. From time to time the numbers dropped as some men were removed to be transported elsewhere. At these times, they looked forward eagerly to the arrival of the new inmates who would surely arrive to build up the numbers again and make the place warmer. There was a surprising tolerance in these circumstances, fights and quarrels were virtually unheard of.

In common with many of his compatriots, Mark loved the game of chess. During his time in Kharkov Prison he and some friends found that if they chewed bread to a paste, they could model tiny chessmen which if they left to harden, were quite usable. Once the set was compete, all they had to do was to scratch the board on the floor and they had a great luxury that would bring much pleasure into their bleak lives. It must have seemed very unfair that their guards should have the vindictiveness to reward their ingenuity by confiscating the pathetic little chessmen and scraping out the board with their boots. Yet this is what they did.

It was at Kharkov that Mark received his sentence of a term of hard labour (I think it was about 20 years) followed by exile for life. He never saw his judges, nor any court of law and was never given a chance to answer the charge that he was an enemy of the Russian people, which he most certainly was not!

Life in the labour camps of the Siberian forests was hard. There was a fearful brutality born of a long history of denial of the rights and dignity of the individual. The Russians could have borrowed Dante’s gloomy message at the entrance to Hell, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”, because it was the unmistakable purpose that all who belonged should lose their will to oppose. Mark never forgot his own introduction. They were told that to attempt to escape was certain death because ”...if we and the dogs don’t catch you, the bears will”. He also remembered the terrible day when he and his fellow prisoners were returning to their sleeping quarters after a hard day’s work. They filed past some benches on which lay a sickening sight. On looking closer, they realised they were looking at what was left of a small group of Latvians who had decided to make a bid for freedom. It need only be said that the dogs had taken them and the torn bodies were laid out as a warning to anyone thinking of escaping. This dreadful picture must have been in Mark’s mind when he made his own attempt.

Even while his own life was overcast by the darkest shadows, he could still lift himself above the degrading emotion of self-pity and spare thoughts for the suffering of others. He often spoke of an Indian prisoner whose situation must have been frightful. He wondered what an Indian could be doing in such a place but he never found out because the poor man could not speak a word of any of the languages spoken there and he made no attempt to communicate. He had simply retreated into his own private hell. Mark was deeply touched by this man’s suffering and although he tried to help, he found that he was unable to establish any kind of contact. The man was too withdrawn to make any response. The memory of this sad and lonely figure never left him.

Mark’s life was nothing if not episodic and with his escape a new phase was beginning which brought a strange kind of freedom. One filled with new perils and the ever present knowledge that to be caught was a certain death. Yet, even here there were moments of grim humour.

It was in this part of his life that he experienced the worst hunger. Prison and camp food was poor in quality and quantity but at least he was given something to eat, however meagre. Alone in the wild, he had to forage and fend for himself, sometimes with little success.

Wandering cold and desperately hungry one moonlit but misty night, he heard the sound of a large animal moving about nearby. He stood still, wondering what it could be - ‘a bear? wolf? large cat?. Evan at the worst of times Mark always managed to have a weapon-cum-tool. This was his first priority. When he escaped he had equipped himself with a small wood-man’s axe from the tools used by the prisoners in their forestry work. This had been carefully hidden and jealously guarded until the time came to go. He prepared to defend himself now, but was surprised and relieved to see an old donkey plodding into view. His first love among animals was for the equine family and this love extended even to the humble donkey-but this was no time for sentimentality. All Mark could think about was juicy steak-this was food! He began to stalk the donkey which stopped, eyed him suspiciously and nimbly made a side-step as Mark approached. Mark tried again but once more the wise old donkey took evasive action-he was no fool. It must have been a delightful picture, the two of them performing a fantastic ballet in the moonlight. Mark didn’t say how long this went on but the upshot was that the donkey won and Mark had to go hungry. He may not have felt it at the time, but many years later on. He had a sneaking admiration for the donkey. “He knew exactly what my intention was” he said.

From time to time he was able to gain casual work which was particularly welcome as this type of work usually included some rough shelter and food. It was an opportunity to meet others similarly situated. Nobody ever knew much about the others and it was ‘not done’ to ask questions. They were like ships passing in the night. In such a place there was a young man who had black glossy wavy hair of which he was obviously conscious and very proud of. Their earning had enabled them to obtain some cigarettes (a rare luxury). Mark lit a paper at the stove and offered to light the young man’s cigarette. As the flame came near to his hair there was a whoosh and his head was enveloped in flames. Mark acted quickly. Without thinking. He embraced the young man, holding his own jacket around his head until the flames died. Miraculously, there was no serious injury on either side but the beautiful hair was a mass of brown singed frizz. In silence and as though nothing untoward had happened, the two young men resumed their seats and continued to enjoy their evening, one of them half bald but showing no ill feeling whatever. Mark often wondered what the explosive hair-lotion could have been and found it cause for wonder that vanity can appear in such unlikely places.

One spring day he found himself in the market place of a small town. It was obvious from the pitiful and paltry items for sale that the people were almost as poor as he was. Among the goods were miserable bunches of herbs, dried up vegetables, threadbare clothes and worn out shoes. Mark wondered what he could sell. Suddenly a brainwave struck him. He could sell his underpants!! He disappeared and very soon reappeared proffering his worn out merchandise. It seems unbelievable but they were snapped up. An old women, satisfied herself that the quality was good enough and went home pleased with her bargain. Mark was able to buy a small loaf of bread that would keep him going for another day or two.

Storks nest in Mark's home village.

Storks are special birds to all North and East Europeans. When they return after their long migration to the south, they are the sure signal that the hard winter is over and they are welcomed as friends and encouraged to nest close to or on roofs of the houses. They were an important part of Mark’s childhood memories. When, later on, after joining the Polish army, he was on board ship crossing the Caspian Sea, on his journey to the West, he saw a stork (no doubt exhausted on its migration flight) floundering in the sea. The bird attempted to take off many times but always fell back into the choppy water. The ship soon left the distressed bird behind and Mark never knew if it managed to get into the air again but suspected that it did not. This sad little story says much about Mark’s character. It is typical of him that he should feel such deep pity for the suffering of a dumb creature and that he remembered and spoke of it a whole lifetime later.

During and just after the war, everything was rationed in the United Kingdom. People had their allowance of food etc. and no more. To deal in, to buy and to sell rationed goods outside the rationing system was strictly illegal and such trading was known as the Black Market. Black marketeering was seen as unpatriotic and helping the enemy. Heinous crimes in time of war. This was the state of the country when Mark arrived. He heard that all kinds of good things, not available in the shops, could be obtained on the Black Market. He had not been here long when he boldly walked up to two policemen in the market square of a busy Scottish Town and in his newly acquired English, asked to be directed to the Black Market.

Although he could be stern of aspect, there was always an impish love of mischief hovering about him which could be misleading to people who did not know him. One day he bought a large can of paint and was carrying it through a large department store when the can fell on the floor and burst open spilling its contents in a slowly growing pool of magnolia hue. Mark immediately turned round to two elderly ladies who were behind him and said in a booming voice “Now look what you’ve done”. They looked at him, then at each other and beat a hasty retreat, for all the world as though they had something to be ashamed of.

Probably the most wonderful thing about Mark was that despite having had his young life smashed into pieces by a series of near – disastrous events, he remained free from bitterness, hate, prejudice or intolerance. In the circumstances, this was a superb achievement in itself. Perhaps the explanation lies in his own philosophy that if, after making every effort, we are still unable to improve a situation, we should accept whatever fate may throw at us and (in his own words) “Face life with a smile”.

VISIT TO UKRAINE by Kath Harpley, Sept 2019

KATH AND JIM HARPLEY

VISIT TO UKRAINE

SEPTEMBER 2019

On our second visit to Ukraine we flew into Lviv and again hired a car from Hertze. Due to the lack of rubber that they like to have on their tyres, if we go again I will probably try Avis or one of the other companies.

We exchanged our currency at Lviv airport and this time we bought Vodaphone 'national' (not regional) sim cards at the airport costing just £4 each which gave us unlimited access to the internet, phone calls, text. This proved to be invaluable with Google Translate which enabled us to have long detailed conversations, in short sentences with relatives, museums, restaurants, hotels etc and enabled us to translate documents which was reasonable enough to give us the general gist and restaurant menus enabling us veggies to keep off the meat.

Just to briefly recap on our visit last year:- September 2018 was much warmer than this year so our packing for this visit could have been less sandals and more shoes. Last year I had paid a research company to find family and we met our translator, Oksana in Luboml (Le bom l). She was excellent and had phoned ahead of our visit motivating the local school, priest and village head lady-Lillia. By searching the local church (Nudyze pronounced Nu dee sia) records, door knocking and asking all the old folk of the local villages, we eventually poll up at a detached, brick built house in the nearby town of Kovel where there was Michalel(Meesha)-husband to Olga (nee Rabyj) his elderly mother (Mama) and 85 year old Pawel Rabyj who proved to be uncle Mietek and my father, Mark's cousin. On this visit we met one young daughter, Natatlie who was leaning English but was a reluctant speaker. By 2019 she had matured and was confidently speaking with us aided by Google. We visited our fathers village Zablocie and grave yard at Nudyze with Oksana, Meesha and Pawel and went to the wooden village farm house at Zoblocie where Pawels' son, Leonid lives. He had inherited it from Pawel and the plot where our father lived with his mother and grandfather was in the field opposite but the house had long since gone. Most of the village is still detached wooden houses as in our fathers time and they all have reasonably large gardens where they grow fruit and veg and have chickens. I considered that a very rewarding visit and quite overwhelming at the time, as, had I just found a grave I would have been happy, but to find living breathing family was exceptional. We then took a leap to try and find grandpa, the mill owner who might or might not be a noble. Well a friend of the Rabyj's just happened to be the 90 year old Ivan, who's father Josef had the nearby large flour mill. This no longer exists but we have seen how close it was to Zablocie. Without wishing to tarnish Josef's good reputation (as of course he may well have not been involved with Iryna at all), we now either have a candidate for grandpa or we are on a wild goose chase.

Ivan left, Pawell right

Nudyze church

Onto our 2019 visit:-

Having landed and picked up our car with border line tyres!! we headed north to Kovel to stay with the rellies. We had expected to be staying with Olga (whom I have spent the last year building a FB relationship with), Meesha (also originating from the villages), Pawel and their family but we went on to meet the English speaking lawyer Vasily. He is the son of Anastasia and Vasily (same name) and practices business law. At this stage I should say that uncle Mietek's and my father Mark's cousin Pawel was married to Anna (deceased 3 years ago) and they have 6 children, my second cousins – in order of age-oldest first: 1.Valentina (Vallier-lives in Kovel, has three daughters and one son), 2.Anastasia (Kovel, two sons-inc Vasily and Sergie who also has two young sons called Laddie and Mark), 
3.Leonid (Zablocie-dad's village, one daughter Halia, husband Roma whom we call Tyrone after Tyrone on Corrie-they have two young children), 
4.Vladimir (Lukov), 5.Galina (Slovakia. I talk to her daughter Oksana on FB)  
6.Olga (Kovel, three daughters, Oksana, Masha and Natalie).

So we ended up spending a couple of very pleasant days with Anastasia, Vasily snr, Vasily jnr, Sergie's (he was away working in Slovakia) wife Tatyana and their 2 sons Mark and Ladi. Second cousin, Anastasia was so pleased to see us, her face was beaming when we arrived. We met the chickens-egg layers and meat and looked around the large veg and fruit growing garden. The house amply accommodates all the family and they like to retire to their own rooms in the later part of each evening to chill. We drank vodka with each meal (not breakfast-thankfully) and had many toasts. Vasily snr was knowledgeable on the war period and interesting to speak with, via Google Translate. It was good to hear his take on the situation at the time which really confirmed what I had already researched. He showed great interest in Mark and Mietek's war records. Anastasia cooked the hugest breakfast for us on day one and we had to plead for a smaller breakfast on day 2. Her house has 2 kitchens and all the smelly cooking is done in the basement where she also has a large sewing room with 2 industrial sewing machines where she makes leisure cloths and sells them on the local market. We instantly hit it off as we had textiles in common.  There is also a large pantry where home made pickles and preserves are stored. They were very hospitable and welcoming and we had a lovely time getting to know them. We spent the next day exploring Kovel which has its share of industry but also some pockets of loveliness.

Anastastia

Anastasia with Jim

Olga with her smoke house

Next: Off to stay with Olga, Meesha, Pawel, Mama, and the English speaking Natalie. I have to say that the anticipated language barrier really was not a problem. Vasily and Natalie/Natasha did their best and for the rest we simply used Google Translate. We all got very proficient at using it and whilst sometimes the translation was not quite right it proved humorous and broke down any barriers. Meesha's vodka eased the way and we had quite a laugh. He really is a lovely chap with the hint of a cheeky grin every time he says “Kat, just one more, just a little one”. All the fruit and veg in both homes comes fresh from the garden. The pickles are home made and the mash potato and cabbage divine. We had lots of different fish, mostly smoked which was excellent. The family have a smoker in their garden, as well as chickens and pigs. On introduction to the pig and piglets we were told that mum was being killed the next day when all the family would arrive.

Oksana with child  and hubby, Jim, Kath(me), Valier, Olga, Mama and Pawell

The pig that is now pork

When Jim asked who was killing the pig we were told that Meesha would do it and they butchered it themselves. As veggies, we chose to stay clear of this event but we saw in the background many hours of chopping and the dog was well fed that day, even turned his nose up at my well thought out dog treat pressie!

Arriving that day from Lutsk for the weekend and for the slaughter was daughter Oksana with hubby and toddler son and the third daughter Masha who lives locally. So it was a big family feast and yes, more vodka. We had a really good time with this lovely family.

Olga, Valier and Vasily - The Research Team

The next day we (Olga, a hung over 19 year old Natalie from a night out, Jim and myself) hooked up with Vasily jnr and with Olga's oldest sister Vallier who, prior to moving to Kovel had lived in the villages the longest and knows a lot of people. We headed off to Nudyze where our friend from last year, the village priest who reminds me of the burly Orthodox priest from Fiddler on the Roof, greeted us warmly. Olga and Vallier went through the church records with the priest and they discovered things about their family that they never new. The priest's pretty young daughter had practised her English with us last year and this year she showed great enthusiasm to practice again, fetching her book and learning words from us. She gave me a tour of some of the village and endeavoured to converse. She was charming and quite delightful.

Orthodox village church

We then visited several villages and elderly people, picking brains. The mission of the day was to learn more about the Gigiera's and about Josef Dudek or a potential grandpa. My thinking being that if we got a link to Zotik Gigiera or found out anything about the third brother-Gieorgij, to Mark and Mietek then it might give us a link to mystery grandpa. Olga took some extensive notes. We had amazing experiences seeing the old people on their original land and it was exactly how it would have been in our father's day. We also visited another Orthodox village church and as it was Sunday morning we were invited in. These are all genuine experiences that you don't get when you go on holiday. Nothing touristy, just normal everyday people doing what they do.

We were shown where the windmill near Zablocie stood. It no longer exists but was only a short walk from the village of Zablocie, easy to get to for the young boy Marko when he made visits to what could be his father on several occasions. As things stand at the moment, Josef Dudek the mill owner and father of Ivan the 90 year old we met last year is in the running for the title of grandpa. Ivan has a daughter Nadia, who again this year was away working in Poland on the mushroom farm and a son. Nadia is a good friend of Olga's and so there is a chance that the dna test kit I left behind might get done and you never know!! I must emphasise here that this is pure speculation and we are not out to tarnish any ones reputation or cause distress.

Anyhow, the name Dudek rang a bell with me as it has cropped up before, in Mietek's war records. Zofia Dudek is listed as the mother to Mietek. My mother recalled that Mark had told her that Zotik Gigiera had remarried, probably after the death of Iryna in 1931. At this time Mietek, who lived with him would have been 10 and so it is quite likely that he would call a second wife to his father, ‘mama’. So my guess is (but not proven) that Zofia Dudek was his step mother. Coincidence! Should the dna kit prove a positive (don’t forget, this is a real long shot), then it would mean Mietek probably has a step mother from the Dudek family and Mark had a father from the Dudek family. Should this be the case then there are obviously several possibilities on the Dudek relationships, brother-sister, cousins, husband-wife!!!.  (15/7/20 update:  Zofia Dudek is not Zot's second wife. See details on Mietek's life story for more info.   I do not now know who Zofia Dudek was - mystery to be solved)

On this year's visit to Ivan with Olga and Vasily we established the background of Josef. The old man was quite chatty as he knew Olga well. We confirmed his surname is Dudek or something similar. Bare in mind names changed due to illiteracy. Misspellings occurred. As a young man Josef was in the Army (Conscription at the age of 18 for 3 years or more means they all were and very often they were sent to the furthers reaches of eastern Russia meaning there was little chance of getting home during this time). Josef worked in East Russia/Siberia on border control. Then he was a Cooper, learning his carpentry skills before building the mill. He started building the large mill in 1925 and started milling in 1928. The old man Ivan who was telling the story was coherent and quite positive with his answers. I acknowledge that some things that several of us remember don't concur, like Mark's father being a Cavalry Officer in the Tzar's Army (was there a bit of embellishment or maybe he just owned or rode a horse and riding in the army constituted cavalry in the young boys eyes) and the mention of a Count which I recall as does Boris who tells the story of meeting a lady in the Ukrainian club. She came from the same area and also knew of the Count, and Jim the last of us to hear Mark's stories and clearly remembers the Count being talked about (Is it possible that Joseph was just more wealthy than the rest of the village so they called him the Count). 

Research; About 10-12% of the population at that time were from noble families. A few were very rich, even richer than the Tzar, but many were people who had been given titles and maybe some land for supporting the Tzar or for some good service. The Tzar would no doubt give titles for favours building a class of people to underpin his position. Given the size of Russia and the spread out population he would need a vast number of people to control the underclass. This compared to other European countries where the percentage of nobles was more like 2%. So being a minor noble was not exceptional and it is most probably, given that high percentage of nobles, that there would have been a noble or three of some sort in the area. There is certainly a documented long history of nobles in the nearby town of Luboml i.e. The Count Branicki's and the Kampyoni's who were very wealthy land owners in the town before WW2 and who lived in the Branacki Palace which still exists today, although somewhat the worse for wear.

Our next excursion was a trip to the Museum at Luboml. This is the closest town/city to Mietek's and Mark's villages of Humencie and Zablocie. A little geography and history first: The villages are maybe 5 miles north out of Luboml on dirt roads. Until the end of WW1 the town of Luboml belonged to the Ludmir region, included in the district of Zhitomir, the capital of the Volhynia region (Oblast-like a County). The estimated number of residents until WW1 was 6000, 50% Jews, 45% Ukraines, 5% Polish. It was an important place with its beautiful huge synagogue. A town located on a broad flat plain which spread for miles, covered in thick forest and the lakes in the north bordering on the swamps and forests of Polesia (south-western Belorussia). About 7-9 miles from the city lay the Bug River being the border between Western Ukraine and Poland.

This is the Jewish perspective, pre WW2: Small time farmers came to town, especially on Fair Days to sell produce and the craftsmen in the town sold their wares. The state of farming was backward and primitive compared to other areas of the country. Many villages with smallholdings too small and poor to make a living from, had to take other work and especially so at harvest time when they would travel to other areas to bring in the crops. Much of the village population was illiterate . The city folk, both Jewish and non Jewish saw the farmers as inferior and oafish.

This seems a little harsh. The village folk may not have been scholars but it seems that they were at that time surviving in a very harsh world. Whilst on the surface the various factions appeared to get along with one another, trading and meeting, underlying that we can see the tensions among the different nationalities and religions. When WW1 ended in 1918, fighting broke out between Poland and Soviet Russia. This caused destruction, poverty and ruin. What with war and famine it was not an easy place to live and survive in and even today, having travelled around Ukraine we can see that farming in the south is on a more industrial scale whereas the north appears to be smaller self sufficient farmers and small holdings. However, life in the north is perhaps the way we should be going, with a very healthy and enviable self sufficiency and a different uncommercialized way of  life if our planet is to survive, but alas that's a different avenue and not one I am going down.

Oksana, Kath, Jim

Our translator and friend Oksana from last year also happens to be a historian working as a lecturer along with her husband at Lutsk University and she is the Director of  Tourism at Lutsk. We were so lucky to have her on our side. She knows Yura Finikovsky the Director of Luboml museum and gave me an introduction, so when we turned up, again using Google Translate we were given an old map of Marks and Mietek's villages, some postcards depicting the villages pre WW2, a whole load of text information of Nudyze church and village and there was lots of pictures and interesting information in the museum. He took our photo in the museum and I was able to contribute to the museum with Mark and Mietek's war records and promised to send more info to him. He took us on a guided walk of the town, showing us the site of the castle, the Counts Branicki Palace-still standing but not in good condition, and the site of the old Jewish Synagogue which was in its day a spectacular building but was destroyed by the Russians in WW2. Yura was so helpful. We are now connected by FB which gives me access to the many local photos he publishes, many from pre WW2. On return to Kovel, Pawel and mama were delighted with the postcards and the whole family gathered round to listen to the reading of the village information. Olga was mightily impressed that we had found so much and things that the family did not know even though it was their birth place.

So, have we found out any more over what we discovered last year. Well, we have met and stayed with family that we never knew existed, we have experienced the Ukrainian way of life and seen how it would have been in my father's day and we have discovered more about the local mill owner Josef. We have asked questions and there are notes to follow up on and I have left 2 dna kits behind.

One DNA kit for Nadia, the daughter of Ivan Dudek who is the son of Josef-the mill owner. If she does it then it will prove one way or another whether we are related and if so, what the potential relationship could be. Another interesting thing I discovered from my Ancestry account is that there are a few Dudek's linked to us by DNA who's family originated from Eastern Europe. Now that is interesting although I have been told it is a common name.

One DNA kit for Olga or Anastasia. So, if the dna kit from Nadia proves a negative then we are no further on. But if we have dna from the Rabyj family then we can eliminate anyone related to them on my dna profile. A dna test from one of our relations in Argentina would do this job equally well.

Secondly, if we get dna from Aunty Margaret or even a cousin then we can eliminate anyone related through my mother's lineage i.e. the Folwell's or Thompson's.

So by the process of elimination, this then leaves only those related to us on Mark's father side. A long shot as it relies on the right people having been tested and on them loading their family trees up to Ancestry or another genealogical web site, but its a start. Over time more and more people get tested and even if nothing happens now, there is a hope for the future.

Apart from my paternal Grandmother's family, the Rabyj's whom we now have good family links with and Mark's father's family still being explored, that leaves the Gigiera's. We have proven by dna  that Mietek and Mark had different fathers. It is not conclusive  that Zotik Gigiera was Mieteks father but we have to believe that is true as both Mark and Mietek believed it so and Zotik Gigiera took Mietek to be his son. I can confirm that there are Gigiera's alive today in and around the Luboml and Kovel area's (these can be found on Facebook) and we met an old man who knows some things of them. (15/7/20  update: I have now found and spoken to Zot's grandson in Kovel and he has a granddaughter in Zappillya).  Should my half cousin and his children in Argentina be interested in their family history, then there are definitely Gigiera’s and family history in Ukraine to be discovered.

So back to our trip. We had a fantastic time with our 2 families in Kovel and left with an invitation to Vasily's wedding (when he finds a bride), which if invited at the time, we will go to. Hopefully we have inspired the Rabyj family to research some more and hopefully (keeping my fingers crossed) they will do the dna tests I left behind which is the way forward in my quest to find grandpa. We of course left many invitations for them to visit us. Its possible that some of the younger members might come over, but it is expensive for them. Recently married, (the other) Oksana from Slovakia (second cousin, once removed) has a brother in law in Manchester whom she visits. So Andrew, get ready to touch base with her.

Next off to Lutsk where we had an enjoyable day staying at the Noble Hotel which did a stunning egg florentine breakfast. It was fabulous to meet up with Oksana from last year who had helped reunite our family. She is up there in my list of friends. She greeted us warmly and both Jim and I were really pleased to see her and we were able to fill her in on how far we had got on with our research and thank her for the introduction to Yura from the Luboml Museum. Lutsk is another town steeped in history. It has many churches, catacombes a lovely tourist area, river, park and traditional market. We enjoyed mooching around the untouched parts exploring the older buildings

We made several stops on our way south to the Carpathian Mountains. Each of them bringing new experiences, excellent Ukrainian Beer at £1 a pint and vodka. We had some really good nights out for less than a tenner. A good room in a good hotel, evening meal and breakfast rarely costs more than £30 in total (outside of the major tourist towns), enabling us to stay in some stunning places. Travel by car is difficult at times on dirt roads and I would not go without a good map and a sat nav. However, the challenges add to the journey.

The next major event was at Koropets, a village just east of the Carpathians where Jim's old colleague's family comes from. They lost contact after his father died and he was left with a name and an address but not sure if they matched up. Up a 7 mile dirt road in the middle of nowhere lies this village. Housing an army cadet centre with around 200 cadets, a village school and the locals. To cut a long story short, after calling at the local shop, visiting the village museum and interrupting an English lesson in the school where we were the focus of attention talking to the students and generally rousing the village we met his cousins Meesha and Maria and were invited to their home for a lunch. Another family reunited. Stephan and his brother now have a reason to visit and they are already making their plans for next year.

Koropets

Meesha, Maria, Jim and Museum man

Jim and Meesha

Palace of Count Badeni

We had 3 further stops at Ternopil where we had a fantastic night enjoying good food and sampling different vodka's, Ivano-Frankivs'k and Kolomyja where we had exceptional Ukrainian beer and enjoyed suchi and pitza. Not two things that we would generally put together, but it is standard eating out fare in Ukraine. Cities and towns are all well and good and there's certainly history, local beer and plenty of vodka to be found. But alas, its the mountains that call. These deeply forested hills in the Carpathians have a charm, driving through wooden housed villages. But everywhere there is evidence of expansion. Mountain biking and ski resorts are shooting up and what is now quaint will be lost to tourism and a new wealth. Along the border with Romania evidence of this new wealth with extremely large castle like houses being built. None of them seem particularly lived in or finished off and having asked why they are there and being told its people who live abroad our guess was dodgy money, people needing bolt holes and needing to spread their money about.

Extremely large castle like houses on the border with Romania

Where there's a mountain to climb (metaphorically or in reality) man will climb it and that's why we went up Hoverla. Ukraine's highest mountain. It was a bit of shall we, shan't we as we had been told that snow had arrived and we were ill equipped but then the fabulous hunting lodge we stayed in just happened to be next to the gate to the NP and the way to the bottom of Hoverla. In the morning, the weather was bright and sunny as it had been for the previous few days. The ground was dry so it seemed we had no excuse and although excruciating and slow at high altitude with thin air, walking poles came into their own and actually we had a fabulous day and the views from the top made it the climax of the holiday.

Memory boards from Sybirak's

It was then back to Lviv for a day of tourism.  Having been there last year we chose to do something different and off the beaten track.  I took Jim to a prison where deportees were held prior to being shipped to Siberia.  Very poignant given that this was Mietek's and Marks fate.  In one cell they showed where they had measured, weighed and taken all the details of the deportees.  In another cell there were memory boards from deportees who had survived and who had spent a long time in Siberia (Sybirak's) before being released.  I had read these types of things before in my research.  For Jim this was the first time he was confronted with real live accounts and pictures of people who had endured the horrors of Siberia and who would have been the same age as Mietek and Mark when they were deported.  It was so sad and it brought it home to both of us just how horrific it was.  

So to summarise our trip:  Visiting family was absolutely awesome and I am still blown away by the fact that we have living, breathing family in Ukraine.  Our stay with them was absolutely delightful and I hope to stay in touch with them and you never know they might come here.  Ukraine is a great country to visit.  At the moment it is unspoilt by tourism and so you see it as it has always been. Things are changing and gradually the pretty wooden houses in villages, especially in the south will be replaced with brick and the horse and carts that you spasmodically see will vanish. Big farming is overtaking the small strip farms further south although there is still strong evidence of the strip system especially in the north. Hotels are popping up anywhere that could be remotely touristy and ski villages are emerging in the mountains led by some big corporate names like Hilton. The dirt roads which though challenging lead to remote untouched villages but even here there are the hints of modernisation. Wifi for communication and internet is very good and dare I say it, better than ours in the UK in remote area’s. You can see masts everywhere so coverage is good. I can see that if Ukraine gets into the EC then it will emerge as an inexpensive tourist spot with its beautiful town of Lviv and Kiev both having international airports and the Carpathians being only a couple of hours out of Lviv. Maybe the lakes of Shatsky National Park just a few short miles north of our families villages will bring wealth as well as rapid change. This area already attracts Ukraines who prior to Russian hostilities, used to holiday on the Crimea coast and now choose Shatsky as a holiday destination. Vasily tells me that there is still much corruption and it is this that is holding it back. But, come the EC and things could rapidly change.



Kath Harpley
September 2019