Monthly Archives: October 2024

Moving Westward

by thehistoryinterpreter

This was a day when it was ten degrees cooler than the previous day, much more in line with expected temperatures and we headed north to Banff, on the Moray Firth in search of fishing boats for my travelling companion. The harbour took 150 years to build. It was started in 1625 but it was not until engineer John Smeaton was appointed that it was completed in 1775. The harbour’s difficulties with silting were first recorded in 1608 and continue today. The outer north pier, built in 1818, was designed by Thomas Telford. In Medieval times, Banff was a centre for  coastal trade, exporting salmon, wool and fleeces and importing timber, coal and salt. It was also a notorious area for smuggling.

A few miles up the coast is Portsoy, much more of a traditional fishing harbour compared to Banff, where many of the vessels were pleasure yachts. The original harbour was built in 1693. Some of the warehouses along the quay date from a similar time. A ‘new’ harbour was built in the 1820s to accommodate the then flourishing herring fleet. It was damaged in 1839 and eventually refurbished in the 1880s. There is a ‘Salmon Bothy’ and museum but they were not open, so we were unable to investigate further.

Four ancestral churches remained on the list. We located the first, failed to find two and abandoned the last. Our search did take us along more routes that no self-respecting tourist usually touches. I don’t have maps for this part of the journey, so we were relying on the satnav. When church hunting, I usually ask for the ‘city centre’, which is often laughable in itself, as some settlements are definitely of the blink and you’ll miss it variety. This tactic does however, usually take you fairly near the historic church, at least it works in England; Scotland not so much. For some reason this doesn’t work at all when I put in Aberlour, no ‘city centre’ option. I’m not daft , I look through the streets for something like ‘Church Street’, nope. What I should have done is gone for High Street. Did I take this sensible option? I did not, I merely punched in any old road. I use the word ‘road’ advisedly. We found ourselves up a very long winding track in the forest above Aberlour before I realised that this really wasn’t going to work. We did manage to find the town but not the church.

The following day, setting off in mist, we reversed the route we travelled home on on the previous day, driving alongside the River Spey. Here we have the archetypal Scottish scenery, pine forests, lochs and mountains with rowan trees sporting their bright berries, suggesting that we may be in for a hard winter. There was a bit of a hold up in Fort William due to the volume of traffic but the mist had lifted, leaving just a haze, meaning we could actually see the top of Ben Nevis, something that had been hidden on previous visits.

The satnav let us down at the end of the journey, meaning we had to ‘turn around where possible’, which ended up being turning around where it wasn’t actually possible with a caravan on the back. This was the second time we’d been to this site and for the second time we were given a premium pitch, with uninterrupted sea views, at least as long as we looked to the right. The only downside was the lack of onsite wifi.

The sun was now glorious and we sat outside for lunch, enjoying the view. We had an early start the next day and unusually on this holiday, had to be at a certain place at a certain time, so we drove into Oban to recee the ferry terminal and parking opportunities ready for the morrow. We watched the beautiful sunset from the van, although it wasn’t a patch on sunsets at home.

Still more Scottish Ramblings

by thehistoryinterpreter

On a glorious sunny September day, with temperatures in the twenties, we set off for Leith Hall in nearby Kennethmont. One of the pleasures of visiting Scotland is that most of your journeys from a to b are through beautiful scenery and are as much part of the experience as the destinations. Here though the landscape is not stereotypically ‘Scottish’. Gone is the dramatic, stark scenery of further south. Instead, we have more benign vast vistas of rolling fields that are currently being harvested.

I like to take notes when I am going round places, or I forget everything that I have been told. I managed to find a writing implement in the bottom of the bag but struggled to find anything to write on. Finally, I unearthed a tiny scrap of paper, which I decided would have to do,  Leith Hall has a history dating back to 1650, when James Leith had it built. It has a chateau-like appearance and inside there’s an arts and crafts movement influence. We arrived just as a guided tour was beginning. Unlike English National Trust properties, where it is usual to have a guide who specialises in each room, here we have one guide who knows everything. There is a complicated family tree of previous owners and I am not sure I always quite grasped who was who. One was fanatical about recycling and the hall ceiling is panelled using pew backs from a church.

There is an elegant Georgian extension, by Alexander Leith, where Chippendale, Hepplewhite and Sheraton are all on display. When the money began to run short the estate was put up for sale, in the 1780s, by Alexander ‘Sandy’ Leith but it was his saved by his great uncle, Andrew Hay, who purchased it and gifted it back to the family. In return, the family hyphenated the name to Leith-Hay. Although they had been Jacobite sympathisers, the family had not been active in the uprisings, so kept their estates after Culloden. In stark contrast, the saviour of the estate, Andrew Hay, was an active supporter of the Jacobite cause. He fought at Prestonpans and Culloden, fleeing to the continent. After eleven years, he returned to Scotland and was pardoned in 1780. Allegedly, he was seven foot two tall, not ideal for a Jacobite trying to be inconspicuous.

There was an interesting photo of the tenants in 1902, including a few women. The estate extended to include the neighbouring village of Insch, which has ancestral connections, so I searched the list for familiar names, even though they’d left the area by 1902 but no luck. Charles and Henrietta Leith-Hay ran the Hall as a hospital in the First World War. Charles and his only son both died in 1939 and Henrietta gifted the hall to The Scottish National Trust.

We looked round the pleasant gardens. There was a sign urging us to close the gate behind us to keep the ’bunnies’ out but there was no gate on the hinges!

The tea room staff seemed a little distrait but the cake came in a variety of unusual flavours; my companion had plum and ginger and mine had an unpronounceable name but was possibly cherry based. Paying was an ‘interesting’ experience as we’d been presented with no bill but were trusted to return to the admission desk and recite what we had had. Surely this is a system open to abuse.

We visited Insch, a parish where my children and one of my sons in law both have ancestry, I have yet to find a mutual ancestor for my daughter and her husband but I will keep trying. A couple of the churches I was interested in are now private dwellings and one alludeed us completely.

We managed to fit in a visit to Fyvie Castle. Having already made the mistake once today, I compounded the difficulty of taking notes by arriving at the ticket desk without anything to write on or with. It was quite a long way back to the car to find the necessary equipment. I was willing to buy a pencil in the gift shop but they came without points, so that idea failed. I decided to blag something of the chap in reception instead. Here, Bob was our knowledgeable tour guide and we were the only people on the last tour of the day. Having worked at a tourist attraction, we strongly suspect that Bob was hoping we just wanted a cursory look, so that he could head off home early but we disabused him of that idea and assured him we’d like the whole tour. Sorry Bob.

Parts of the stone building were already in existence when Sir Henry Preston captured Ralph de Percy in 1390 at the Battle of Otterburn. Percy was a wanted man and the English Crown rewarded Preston by giving him Fyvie Castle. Allegedly, the castle was already cursed. Tammas the Rhymer and been asked to entertain the inhabitants but perceiving some slight when the door was blown shut in his face, he decreed that the eldest son would never inherit, which proved to be the case. Three specific stones have to be thrown from the castle to lift the curse. One of the stones is inaccessible but another is on display and is said to ‘weep’ filling the basin it is lying on with water. In addition, there is a sealed chamber that has not been accessed since the seventeenth century. Breaking the seal is thought to bring about the laird’s death and make his wife blind. Another gruesome tale is that of Lilias Drummond, who failed to give her husband, Alexander Seton, the required son.  Wishing to marry his wife’s niece but being a fervent Catholic, so divorce not being an option, in 1601, Alexander locked Lilias in what is now known as ‘The Murder Room’ and starved her to death. Lilias’s name can be seen carved on an outside window ledge, which supposedly appeared after her death. Her ghost, as ‘the green lady’ is said to haunt the castle.

In 1596, Alexander Seton bought Fyvie from the Meldrum family. Several carved finials adorn the roof. Some of these date from the sixteenth century and six are thought to have been added by Alexander; one strongly resembles a flowerpot man but is allegedly a ceremonial trumpeter. Later owners continued the tradition of adding finials

The future Charles I was brought up at Fyvie, being too sickly to move south with his father James VI when he ascended to the English throne in 1603. The present king celebrated his 60th birthday here.

The towers are named after three of the owning families, Meldrum, Seton and Preston. Steel bands (not the musical kind) have been fitted to the Seton tower to monitor movement and parts of the building are in need of conservation. In the 1890s, Lord Leith installed similar bands, fashioned from railway sleepers. Continued remodelling rendered the foundations insubstantial for the weight of the extended Seton and Meldrum towers. Cracking can be seen and is being carefully monitored.

In 1889, Alexander Leith purchased Fyvie for £175,000, which included the 10,000 acre estate. Born in Scotland, Alexander, along with his wife’s family, had made a fortune in the American steel industry. He added to the collection of armaments, portraits and tapestries at Fyvie. Other symbols of affluence and status include a 1120 piece Waterford chandelier and a large collection of portraits by Raeburn. One portrait bizarrely has a right foot that is always pointing towards you, no matter where you stand in the room. I have no idea how this illusion is achieved. There is a ‘great wheel’ staircase, basically an extra wide spiral staircase. Allegedly, General William Gordon raced horses up and down it.

More Scottish Adventures

by thehistoryinterpreter

Having been to the crannogless crannog centre it was time for the ospreyless Osprey Haven. This was not a surprise, as it is late in the year for osprey and there have been no young at the nest at Loch of the Lowes this year, following the death of the male in the spring. The regular female does seem to have formed a new bond and they have been protecting the nest so there is hope for next year.

This is not the sort of reserve where you go for a walk. There are two hides and there’s also a large window where you can watch a wide variety of small birds at the feeders. There are beaver at work on the loch but you only get to see them first thing in the morning and in the evening. There was no sign of the resident red squirrels either. Despite this, it was good to visit and the journey itself was scenic.

Next, we went in to Aberfeldy for a drink and some cake. The local cinema allows non-customers to use their toilets, which then has the desired effect, as we stayed to use their café. We also managed to stock up on food at the local Co-op. We were a little concerned about our booking at the next caravan site as we hadn’t received an acknowledgement or reminder. We telephoned to check, thinking that if something was awry it was easier to search for an alternative using a laptop and the, albeit very weak, site wifi than it would be on a phone when we got there. It turns out that they had no record of our booking but there was space so we booked by phone.

By this point we had been away for a while. Time for the feat of contortion that is changing a duvet cover in a caravan. You’ve probably tried this in a house but accomplishing the task in a 7 foot by 14 foot caravan takes it to a whole new level. Then there is the ‘getting the fitted sheet on the mattress when you can only reach one of the four sides’ challenge to add to the fun.

On a beautiful autumn morning, with sunshine, heavy dew and fog on the Tay, we took the high road (well the A827 followed by the A9 and A95) north. The first twenty-five miles or so of our journey was on a road full of twists and turns, with no duelling (as in road lanes, not the waving pistols or swords about sort). We were towing a caravan. We were not swift. This kind of journey is also known as how many drivers can you **** off in a very short space of time? Not many as it turns out. The road was quite quiet and we pull over to let speedier stuff pass whenever we can, despite very few acknowledging us. As we got to the A9 and A95 we were in whisky distilling country. There was a ‘whisky trail’ indicated on the road signs, illustrated by a symbol that looks a bit like a witch’s hat. I can’t work out what it is meant to represent that has any connection with whisky.

We arrived at Huntly Castle Caravan Site, not without issues as the satnav insists it is where it isn’t, down a dead end with little caravan turning potential. Fortunately, just in the nick of time, I recalled our being led astray in this fashion on our previous visit and we were able to avoid a repeat of the million point turn that following the satnav necessitates. Strangely it turns out, on arrival, we still didn’t have a booking, despite yesterday’s telephone conversation but that was soon remedied.

We have setting up the caravan off to a fine art, so were soon ready to explore the castle from which the site takes its name. Should we partake of refreshments before heading off to the castle? We decided to treat ourselves at the castle refreshment rooms when we get there. Mistake. The castle has no refreshment rooms; rookie error. Here we benefited from the reciprocal arrangement that Historic Environment Scotland has with English Heritage, so entrance was free. There has been a castle on the site since the 12th century. The earth motte is all that remains as evidence of the original timber castle, which belonged to Duncan Earl of Fife. In 1307, Robert the Bruce came to recuperate in the castle. By the 14th century the Gordon family were in residence and remained so until the 1640s. The palatial stone castle was begun in the mid-fifteenth century and then later remodelled with a nod to the influences of France.

Mary of Guise, widow of James V and mother of Mary Queen of Scots, was entertained at Huntly by Gordon, in 1556. She was treated so lavishly that she felt that he was becoming too powerful. Mary Queen of Scots later defeated the Earl in battle and confiscated goods for the crown. The fifth earl collapsed during a game of football and died in 1576. This would presumably have been the more aggressive form of football, known as campball, with an infinite number of players and goalposts that might be at opposite ends of the village.

For some reason, James VI had the castle blown up in 1594 but it is unclear how much damage this caused.  In 1599, George Gordon became a marquis. In order to advertise his new elevated status, he commissioned an elaborate carving to be added to the front of the palace. Carved symbols advertised their Catholicism; these were defaced when Presbyterian Covenanters occupied the Castle in the 1640s. Seventeenth century tenants’ rents in kind provided the household with foodstuff including 167 cattle, 700 chickens, 40 barrels of salmon and 5284 eggs each year.  As ardent Catholics, they suffered during the English Civil War, with George, the second Marquis, being executed in 1650 for his support of Charles I.

An inventory of 1648 gives an impression of how luxurious the furnishings were at the end of the Gordon’s ownership. Tapestries, paintings and a map of the world could be found and there was also an organ. The castle also houses the oldest wooden toilet seat in the country. The castle came into the care of the state in 1923.

Crannogs, Longhouses and other Scottish Things

by thehistoryinterpreter

Time to move sites again and head north-westward into the Trossachs for a few days in Killin. The weather began fine but in typical Scottish fashion, rapidly turned to rain, nonetheless it was a pleasant drive with lovely views. We wanted to arrive at Killin promptly when it opened for new arrivals at 1pm because we planned to visit Moirlanich Longhouse, which is close to the site and which has very restricted opening hours.

We’d passed the longhouse several times on previous visits but had never been able to go inside before. It is in the care of the Scottish National Trust, so we were able to take advantage of the reciprocal arrangements with the English version. The house is a great illustration of how people would have lived in the past. This particular house was built in 1809 for tenant farmers. It is a cruck-framed house, built in a style that had probably been used for centuries. This was the time when many labourers were turned off the land and moved away but the Robertson family were granted the tenancy of Moirlanich and farmed the surrounding thirty acres, trying cattle, then sheep, before changes to growing oats. The once thatched roof was covered with corrugated tin in the 1930s.  The last member of the family left in 1968 and the house remained empty until 1992, when the trust took over.

Various items were found in the house, including ragged and probably discarded clothing, which appeared to have been used to insulate the chimney. There were multiple layers of paper on the walls. Considering there were only three rooms, plus the byre at the end, it is strange that one room was largely reserved for ‘best’, such as entertaining the minister. The room did contained two box beds that were in regular use.

The next day was beautifully sunny, just right for a drive along several miles of the banks of Loch Tay towards Aberfeldy, in the centre of Scotland. We were paying a return visit to the Crannog Centre, or in this case the Crannogless Centre. We visited the earlier version of this Iron Age living history experience on a previous trip to Scotland but a couple of years ago, a fire destroyed the crannog. A crannog is a dwelling that was constructed on stilts over the water and evidence of nearly six hundred have been found across Scotland, which is probably only a tiny fraction of the number that would have been built. Several of these were on the edge of Loch Tay. Building across water is much more difficult than building on land and was done to reserve the land for food production and possibly also as a sign of status and method of protection.

Following the fire and some serious fund raising, the centre moved to its current site, which they were able to purchase for just £1. They reopened in April and have built several roundhouses using different techniques. Erecting the crannog will be a more complex task and building was due to begin the day after our visit. We arrived just in time for a tour and John showed us the museum exhibits, as well as giving us some background history.

Our first presentation was about Iron Age food. Archaeological finds provide evidence of the ingredients but how they were used is largely speculation. We were treated to flat breads made from the ancient cereals, emma and spelt. These were topped with garlic and honey cheese and optional trout. I passed on the added trout but it was very tasty. Emma no longer grows in Scotland, as the climatic conditions have changed since the Iron Age. We saw a saddle quern and it was explained how arduous and time consuming grinding flour would have been.

Next was the blacksmithy and then the woodworking presentation, some of the turning on the pole lathe was highly skilled. The textile demonstration was particularly interesting, with information about dyes, weaving and spinning. I hadn’t realised that woad required soaking in warm urine for a couple of weeks before it was an effective dye. Who first realised that this was the thing to do? It takes 7,000 metres of spun wool to weave a long sleeved tunic. Lastly, we went in the final round house, which had a basket-like woven framework, covered by stone walls and thatch on the roof. Despite the sun, it was still a little chilly and the restaurant was full with a party so we had our carrot cake and drink outside, where it was perhaps a few degrees colder than ideal. Overall, it was a fascinating trip and highly recommended.

Mostly about Wildlife

by thehistoryinterpreter

It was not a great night for our patient but once up there were signs of improvement. Light exercise is recommended and he was keen to embark on another drive. We had left behind the dramatic Northumbrian landscape but the countryside and far reaching views were beautiful nonetheless. This area seems more suitable to arable faming, with heavy red soil and red stone houses. This week seemed to have been designated as harvesting week and there were many tractors.

The church tour of the day met with some success and took us to places other holidays don’t reach. We ended up on the coast at St Abbs. The EbbCarrs Café provided us with a kipper roll and Biscoff cheesecake. Definitely a recommended location and the bonus of fishing boats for the convalescent to look at.

Then it was time to move on again, this time to Balbirnie Park at Glenrothes. We have left behind the area of my own ancestors and potential ancestors and are now moving through territory known to the ancestors of my children and grandchildren. Some traffic hold-ups on the Edinburgh by-pass but otherwise an uneventful journey. We were now on a wifi hotspot only site but the warden kindly allowed us on a pitch where you could get wifi in the van but which is normally reserved for the staff. This meant I could do some essential work while I was there.

So that we didn’t waste the day, we went for a short walk at Loch Leven RSPB reserve in the afternoon. In the 1830s the loch water was harnessed for use in linen bleaching and in the corn, wool and paper mills. This resulted in the loch’s water level dropping, adversely impacting the wetland habitat. Recent management and restoration has provided homes for a variety of wildlife. About a thousand pink-footed geese had just arrived. More will follow, as usually fifteen thousand over-winter there. I also spotted some green-winged teal. The reserve is the site of the country’s first bee reserve but we saw no bees.

Allegedly the weather was supposed to have improved. True, the bitter wind had gone but so had the sun. We decided to visit the nearby Scottish Deer Centre. Currently, this attraction is waving its admission prices in lieu of donations because of refurbishments but we felt it was fair to pay the normal admission price and it was certainly worth it. As the name suggests, there were deer, lots of deer of different types, some of whom you could feed. We walked round by ourselves and then again under the guidance of Owen, who provided us with deer facts, which I will pass on.

Unlike horns, antlers are pure bone and are surprisingly heavy. Reindeer are the only female deer to have horns and as males shed their horns in winter Santa’s reindeer, at least in the northern hemisphere, are all female. There’s also some weird thing about reindeer being able to ensure that the frozen blood supply below their knees doesn’t reach the rest of their bodies in severe weather. In the wild, reindeer form super herds of up to half a million. As it can be hard to see each other in the snow, the use their UV vision to follow urine trails. Fallow deer, the pretty spotty bambi-like ones, are not native but were introduced by the Romans as a food source. Though, as we discovered at Belton, not all fallow deer are dappled. Sika deer, brought from Japan by the Victorians, are an invasive species as they interbreed with native red deer, making it difficult to ensure the continuance of true red deer. Elk, aka moose, like to swim and are predated on by whales. Pere David deer became extinct in their native China but are now part of a successful captive breeding programme.

Our presence normally makes any self-respecting wildlife, including those in captivity, dive for cover but we were luckier than usual this time. Apart from the deer, we saw other species including a wolf, a brown bear and a Scottish wild cat. I was particularly pleased to see the otters. The are clearly ethical issues surrounding keeping animals in captivity but on balance, anything that can encourage people to take an interest in wildlife is important and captive breeding programmes are essential to the survival of some of species kept here. 

We stayed to watch the birds of prey display. You’d think ‘seen one seen them all’ but this was particularly good, with the Eagle Owl landing on the table of the picnic bench where we were sitting. For those visiting with younger family members there was plenty provided in the way of play equipment, so highly recommended as a destination. I did manage to keep the senior member of my party off the zip wire this time.

and Back in Northumberland

by thehistoryinterpreter

This is now nearly a month ago but here is what happened next.

It was lovely and sunny but a with a bitingly cold wind as we revisited Great Bavington Presbyterian Chapel then a detour via Hallington and on to one of my favourite places in the world, Thockrington, subject of one of my One-Place Studies and home of the Hogg family who I am ‘that’ close to ‘inking in’ as my ancestors. I haven’t done so because I am super cautious and am hoping for just one more piece of supporting evidence that probably doesn’t exist. Next to Chollerton and then, a new destination for us, Simonburn. I am busy trying to reach many parishes that ‘probably’ have ancestral connections so that, by the time I decide they are definitely ‘mine’ (if I ever do), I am prepared with photographs and impressions of the area,

We stopped off at Wallington, a National Trust property that we’ve visited before, the former home of the Trevelyan family. This was just a brief visit to avail ourselves of the café and facilities.

We did have a quick look at the house, which the guide described as having a Cluedo board layout.  It was good to see that sensory bags were available. My favourite finds were a Meissen tea set depicting insects, a dolls’ house display and several photographs of the servants. Around the central courtyard, which now has a roof, are impressive murals depicting scenes from Northumbrian history, famous local people and flowers found in the area.  Given the artic wind (that refers to the weather not the state of our digestion) and my companion’s delicate state we gave the gardens a miss.

As said companion’s ailments didn’t seem to be improving it seemed prudent to seek medical advice, This was to be more complicated than you’d think. First stop at 10am the not so local pharmacy. He needs anti-biotics but they can’t prescribe, he’ll need to phone 111 or his own doctor. He opts for 111. ‘What is the postcode of where you are now?’ Errr no clue. The 111 person speaks to the pharmacist. Still no one is keen to do anything, they will ring back. Five hours later they haven’t, so he tries his own surgery, who will ring back. The signal is dodgy here so they text. They won’t prescribe without seeing him. We find details of the nearest surgery (twelve miles from where we are staying). We ring. He will have to go to the pharmacy. Oh wait, we’ve been there. Doctor’s receptionist expresses amazement that the pharmacy was no help. He will have to wait for a call from their doctor. We explain the lack of signal issues and reluctantly they agree we can come in and he can register as a temporary resident. We arrive at just after 3pm. We see just one other person in the waiting room the whole time we are there. We are told we will definitely have to wait until after 5pm, possibly until 6.30pm. We wait and wait some more in the now deserted waiting room. To be fair, perhaps the doctor was dealing with telephone appointments. At 4.45pm my ailing companion was summoned. Turns out he has pneumonia and the vital anti-biotics are issued. The patient insists that he doesn’t want to abandon our trip and to be honest, he is more likely to rest here than at home, so we will be taking it easy. [Progress report, once home a second dose of, stronger, antibiotics was prescribed and seem to be helping].

The next day, first some taking it easy for the patient this morning. We were due to move to another site just thirty miles away and couldn’t arrive before 1pm so an ideal opportunity to do not a lot before we moved on.

We arrived in Berwick on Tweed, overlooking the river. The patient decided he was up for a drive round. This was not a spectacular success as I usually head for a church but any kind of church was conspicuous by its absence. As we left Powburn, I had been informed that we had sufficient fuel for 250 miles. We got to the middle of nowhere, having travelled about fifty miles and it appeared that fuel was low, so finding a garage became a priority. Fortunately, one was located with the bonus of the cheapest diesel that we’d seen since we left home. We drove through Kelso and Jedburgh. The latter looked interesting but we didn’t have much time and in any case it probably wasn’t a good idea for the invalid to walk round in what was still a very cold wind. This time last year we were in Ireland where the temperature was over thirty degrees. Here there was frost forecast overnight.

We did manage to locate Oxnam Kirk, a low-lying seventeenth century building with an unusual T-shaped footprint. Outside is a miniature stell (circular, stone sheep enclosure), erected to remember the 2001 foot and mouth outbreak. The centre stone came from the farm with the greatest losses and twenty six surrounding coping stones represent all the local farms where a total of 4,732 cattle and 21,319 sheep were slaughtered. In this way, the epidemic was contained within the parish and did not spread to surrounding farms.

Back to the van via the supermarket for more convalescing.

Wallington

A Diversion to the Home Counties

by thehistoryinterpreter

I know, I know, I was last seen in the wilds of the Northumbrian-Scottish borders and the stories of those adventures will be back but while it is almost current news, I thought I’d divert to last weekend’s foray to the Home Counties instead.

Having barely recovered from the holiday we spent a weekend staying on the Buckinghamshire-Oxfordshire borders. When I say ‘barely recovered’ on the health front my coughing companion was coughing a good deal less but I, recovering from a summer cold, was carrying the vestiges of an ‘interesting’ voice and the occasional coughing fit. Just what was needed to do two talks in two days.

There were ancestral parishes from two branches of the family within reach, so having set up the van on a farm site, we popped to Ambrosden, home of the Verney family, distant ancestors of my paternal grandmother. The church was interesting but unfortunately locked and much of the areas was built close on 300 years after my ancestors set their feet on Ambrosden soil. The soft yellow Cotswold stone is characteristic of the area and only goes to underline how different vernacular architecture is in different parts of the country.

On Friday, I was due to attend day one of the Families in British India Society conference. Having organised several residential conferences, I know how difficult this can be and the organisers had done a very good job. In the morning, I was one of several designated ‘experts’. I fielded some interesting enquires that ranged from what to do with a cache of nineteenth century letters, written from India, to the son of a circus acrobat, whose circus appeared to have been sent to India in the 1880s to entertain the expats. The afternoon brought my talk on Writing your Family History, which is an exercise in trying to get about five hours’ worth of material into a very short talk but it seemed to be very well received. I then listened to Else Churchill talk about sources for British India at the Society of Genealogists’ Library.

It had been raining a great deal in this area and I do mean a great deal, with more than a month’s rain falling in twenty four hours and this on already saturated ground. On our way back to the van, on the only road to the site there is a strategically placed ‘road closed’ sign. We pause. We have no idea how to circumvent this, if indeed we can. A helpful local coming from the allegedly closed road, slowed and asked where we needed to get to. On hearing the answer, he appraises the car and judges that we will be ok if we keep to the right. Fortunately, this proved to be true as the farm entrance was in a dip and there was flood water either side of the only access. Thank goodness for a large car. I suppose the fact that the adjacent village is called Water Stratford, should have rung alarm bells.

With no rain overnight, we were fortunately not stranded on our campsite, so were able to travel to Northamptonshire Family History Society’s conference. We were meeting at the beautiful Delapre Abbey, originally a nunnery, then a stately home and for decades after the Second World War the County Record Office. It then fell into disrepair and was eventually saved from demolition and restored to create an events centre. This first session was from the local archivist, about family history resources in the archives. I don’t know about you but I usually find this kind of talk pretty dull, especially when I have zero family interest in the county concerned. Boy, was this different. Definitely the best talk of its kind I’ve heard for decades. It was delivered with re-enacted incidents from various parish chest documents and an unbounded enthusiasm that would surely send anyone rushing to the archives. Next up was Dave Annal whose talks are always good. This one was called Lying B*st*rds and was about the impact of illegitimacy. It was lovely to catch up with long-standing family history friends over lunch. I was up next and managed to get through my Marginalised Ancestors talk without coughing. This is another exercise in getting several quarts into a pint pot. Colin Chapman, on ‘Sin, Sex and Probate’, provided the end to a day of talks that dovetailed beautifully together.

We decided to stay in the area for an additional day to do more ancestral parish visiting; as if we hadn’t had enough of this on our Northumbrian/Scottish adventures. This part of the family are ancestors of my maternal grandfather and Oxfordshire arrives in my ancestry in the shape of three x great grandmother (twice over – best not to ask) Ann Lamaball. I have written previously about the ridiculous number of Josiah Lamballs dotted around, so the plan was to visit as many home parishes of Josiah Lamballs as possible, pending my working out which the heck is the one I want. I have a theory but in the absence of a baptism record, or indeed any other helpful documentation, I am not sure I will ever be able to satisfactorily confirm the link.

We began the day with a walk round the gardens at what is now Stowe School. The current house at Stowe was built by Viscount Cobham in 1717 but we decided not to tour the house as well. The Georgian landscape gardens were the work of Charles Bridgeman and Sir John Vanbrugh and are pretty hot on vistas and follies. ‘Pretty hot’ did not describe the weather, so we didn’t linger too long. Then the game of hunt the church, six out of seven wasn’t a bad haul, although the tour was enlivened by the additional activity known as ‘dodge the flood’. It is so important to get a real ‘on the ground’ feel for areas where your ancestors lived.

A dry day, so the flood at the site entrance had subsided. The caravan is on grass, so I had some concerns about it getting stuck in the mud but we judiciously parked at the top of the hill and my companion who has been getting caravans out of tricky situations for nearly fifty years was confident. Rain overnight made me wonder if we would be marooned but I needn’t have worried and I am now trying to play catch up with all kinds of things that have been neglected whilst I’ve been gadding about. Not least of these is listening to All About That Place talks by friends, colleagues and others. My own two contributions are due for transmission today and you can listen for free.