A little less than 50 years ago, my Dad played hockey for Worthing Hockey Club, and over Easter they regularly hosted a tournament with teams invited from all over, including Prague.
A couple of the Prague players were staying with us, although at this point I was only apparent as a growing bump on Mum. But anyway after the tournament as I understand it, a few of the Czech players decided that the ferry back to France and to then Czechoslovakia was to be avoided and gave their accompanying political authorities the slip at Dover, and with nothing more than £5 and a hockey stick started a new life.
A few months later I arrived in the world and was given Misha by the Czech players that had stayed with my parents. So Misha must be coming up 50 then, he looks a little tatty round the edges, his fur might be thinning a little in places… but enough of the comparisons, he’s still going strong 😀
Coincidences do happen and on the weekend that we decide to make a trip to Prague, my parents receive a postcard from Australia reminiscing that 50 years ago they made their momentous decision not to go home to Prague.
Prague was very interesting, very full of tourists, and full of complicated history from wars and revolutions.