This week has seen me enter my 45^th year of serious family history research, although I drew up my first family tree at the age my oldest grandchildren are now. It is the obsession (hobby really doesn’t cut it) that keeps on giving and I can still find something new. This last week or so it has been a potpourri of discoveries. An exciting new one-place source, of which more another time. The story of the interesting four Gilbert sisters who had ten illegitimate children between them, plus a niece with one and an aunt with three more. After that I thought I’d better stop looking. Filling in my census and trying not to die between the day I submitted it and actual census day and creating an account of my own census day memories. I have recorded a video of a family history story for my grandchildren, well I had fun with it anyway. I have half written one talk and recorded another, so a fair bit achieved this week.

A few weeks ago, I managed to be in two places at once. Now I have mastered the art of accomplishing tasks whilst sleeping. This is going to be sooo useful. I appeared as a speaker for the Family History Down Under conference, which went live in Australian time. Hence, I was able to give a talk whilst I was asleep and wake up to a raft of lovely comments and questions. My final session on Embarrassing Ancestors is due to go live any minute and as it was a brand new talk, written with audience discussion in mind, I am keen to know what others think. You can still register for this conference and listen to all the sessions, or register for just one of four streams.

I have also made a possibly rash decision about how to spend my time over the next academic year and if am successful, stand by for accounts of my latest adventure. Only one life and all that. It might mean delaying novel number three, which wasn’t really happening anyway and I might start being a bit more hard hearted when asked to give talks; I have twelve booked for April and that pace really isn’t sustainable.

In non-historical matters, I was asked to complete a random Covid test, to assess levels of asymptomatic disease. Assembling the accompanying box to return the test was a challenge. The instructions were on the underside of the box I was trying to reconstruct. Do I hold it above my head? Do I try to assemble it upside down? Do I look, memorise and then assemble? Then there was the stick it down your throat and up your nose (ideally in that order) thing. The next challenge was putting the swab in the tiny transparent tube. This was a bit of a fail. Having taken my glasses off so I could see my tonsils in the mirror (my close sight is better without glasses), the tube was beyond my clear sight range and it took a few goes to get the stick in. I know, I know, I should have moved it closer. What a wonderful thing hindsight (or indeed just sight) is. Next step to put the test in the fridge and await to see if the courier who was, I was told, going to arrive between 15.03 and 17.03, could find my house. What’s with the .03 business? With a two hour window you’d think it would just be 15.00. Should I refuse him entry if he arrives at 15.02? Unsurprisingly, since apart from the empty next door chapel and the mobile post van fifty yards away, I have only left the house three times since October, it was negative. Or at least my hand which accidently touched the swab with all the getting it in the tube malarky is uninfected.

The excavation of the office continues. I have sorted out and sent three sacks full of paper to recycling. No, I really don’t need all the rough scribbles for my PhD. There are a few more files to cull and I have to decide if I am ever likely to read photocopies of umpteen academic articles. Oh and if anyone local wants a huge pile of House Beautiful Magazines dating back four years you are welcome. At least I can say they come from a Covid free home.

Spring is on the way and just to prove it here are some catkins from my newly pruned trees.