The recent posts reminded me of a few paragraphs from my father's reminiscences. He spent his childhood in Kilkeel, Co Down, before going to New Zealand with hi mother and younger brothers and sister in 1920, at the age of 12. His father went out in 1914, and died in 1922, leaving the family virtually destitute. I've sent this to the paveepoint website as well. Paddy in Tasmania ••• There were gypsies around then too. I remember they always seemed to be in black old-fashioned clothing and they seemed as though they needed a wash. They lived in big horse-drawn caravans. They were good at repairing pots and pans and things like that. When they were in the district people used to say you had to watch everything; they were terrible thieves. They had a notable ability to handle horses. One night when they were in the district I remember seeing a horse walking on its hind legs. The music was going and the ringmaster cracked his whip and the horses then moved round in circles. We children stood on the verge and watched and listened. It was all so weird to us. We used to imagine they were casting spells. There was something mysterious about it all that fascinated us. Some were on the trapeze as well. It fascinated me how they let go and reached out to catch the flying bar. One time, before she got word from Dad about going to New Zealand, Mum, (much against her better judgement - she didn't approve) went to a gypsy fortune-teller with Ellen Mitchell (Dad's cousin) when they were at a fair. Ellen went first and had her palm read and then convinced Mum to have hers read too. Mum didn't want to because she didn't believe in that sort of thing. Ellen gave the woman threepence - crossing the palm with silver - and asked her to tell her friend's fortune. The woman began to turn up the cards. She said to Mum "You'll get a letter soon that will change your life forever; you'll take a long journey to a far away country and be met by a dark man with a beard. You'll be very happy for a short while, then tragedy." She dealt the next card. It was the joker (or maybe the ace of spades, I can't remember which) and closed up the pack and said "I can't tell you anything more". In the next few days a letter came from Dad saying that the farm had been sold, telling her to pack up and move out right away. When Mum met Dad again in New Zealand he had grown a beard and was tanned by the sun. I probably remember that story better than Mum would have because it made such an impression on me at the time. •••