This post is meant to be the first about our Family Tree Live adventures but before I launch into my account of the event, I want to share the ‘experience’ that was applying to renew our passports. No longer the trip to the Post Office’s photo booth, now we can download our own digital photos. We understand the need for a plain background. All my walls are plain, this should be a breeze. Unfortunately, finding a sufficiently large space on said plain walls was more tricky. We take two half decent (by passport photo standards) pictures of our heads, then read the bit that says they need half your body as well. We are advised to take picture from five feet away. Getting five feet away from the plain wall – trickier still. We have a series of photos that are either too dark, too light, too blurry, too shadowy (this is getting to be reminiscent of the Goldilocks story). The instructions insist that the photos cannot be edited IN ANY WAY. This means I can’t crop off window frames, furniture or other unwanted extraneous items. We have long since abandoned any idea of looking half presentable. Finally, photos are acquired. I upload one on behalf of the fisherman of my acquaintance. Up comes a warning notice ‘we cannot discern the outline of a head. Do you still wish to use this photo?’ Well I would hardly have uploaded a picture of a vase of flowers would I? I tick yes, I do wish to use this photo. I have to provide a reason why! Restraining the temptation to put ‘there’s no discernible head outline because he has a beard you muppet’, I put an edited version of that comment and we are waiting with trepidation to see if there are any issues with our applications.

Now to our adventures. With almost literally everything but the kitchen sink packed in the car (we are taking a kitchen sink but that’s in the caravan), I am due to drive to Bideford to commence our journey. Not a peep out of my car. Clearly the battery has breathed its last. I have to be fetched before our adventure can begin. Despite mist and rain, the journey is uneventful until we leave the M25, when an accident reduces our progress to a crawl and necessitates a diversion. Nonetheless we arrive at our campsite and set about conserving our energy ready to set up tomorrow.

Set up day dawns. We wend our way to the iconic Alexandra Palace. We have strict instructions to check in for our vehicle passes, no problem. Other instructions stress that hi-viz jackets MUST be worn at all times whilst setting up. Some of our fellow stallholders seem to have failed to grasp this. Apart from a few issues with hanging our brand new, super publicity banner and more than one change of plan, regarding our table arrangement, we arrange our seventeenth century artefacts to our satisfaction, wondering how on earth it all fitted in the car. We exchange greetings with friends and manage to escape before the worst of the London rush hour sets in.

Annoyingly, although photographs were taken, I have neglected to bring the vital cable that is required to transfer said photographs from camera to computer, in order for me to upload it. This means you have a gratuitous photo of Sir Francis instead and you will have to wait to see the wonders of our stand.