Monthly Archives: May 2026

The Festival the Nearly Wasn’t

by thehistoryinterpreter

Monday 18 May 2026

It hadn’t been the greatest of weeks. I’d been looking forward to the Fisherman’s Friends Festival for best part of a year. When I looked at our tickets, to my horror, I realised I’d somehow booked a campervan ticket and not a caravan space. The pitches are the same size and the same price but clearly I do not have the right ticket. My frantic ‘help’ emails were not answered. I feel physically sick. We can’t think of anyone with a handy campervan we could borrow. I run through the possibilities, which include sleeping in the car. We can’t park the van elsewhere and come in for the day as we don’t have a carparking ticket and once on the campervan site received wisdom was that you wouldn’t be able to leave. We’d booked a few days in Cornwall beforehand but instead of enjoying this, I anticipate more sleepless nights.

We move to our caravan site. Thinks aren’t getting any better. This is not the caravan site I thought it was, nor the one I probably should have booked. So not the one nearest to the festival site, nor the one with the lovely view of the sea, whose only downside was that you had to have the pitch next to the laundry to get wifi. This one has wifi but zero television signal. That’s ok, I have my computer (not enough wifi for TV streaming) and my companion can just sleep instead of sleep in front of rubbish TV. Once pitched, we drive to the showground where the festival is being held to see if my fears can be allayed. Someone, whose decision it won’t be, says she’s sure it will be fine. I am not reassured. She also says she will contacted the ticketing folk, whose base seems to be in Switzerland and they will let me know if there’s a problem.  I am still not reassured.

Tuesday 19 May 2026

Despite unseasonably cold weather and threatening showers we decide to make the most of our time in Cornwall. It is definitely the sort of day to go somewhere with some indoors, so no strolling along the coastal footpath. We opt for a return trip to Trerice, where we’ve been a couple of times before, so here is not the place to write about it in much detail. My eye was caught by the knot garden, a nifty sealing wax dispenser (no home should be without one) and a late sixteenth century set of oak Kales, which are similar to skittles and the cheese (ball). The game was first recorded in 1509, when there were ten pins, although this set has nine and were arranged 1,2,3,2,1. Due to the gambling that became associated with the game in Tudor times, laws had to be passed ensuring that bowling greens were licensed and it became an expensive and therefore high-status, game.

We listened to a talk by a volunteer, braving wind and showers that eventually drove the talk indoors. There was a farmhouse on the site in 1230, when John Treise was in occupation. By the fourteenth century, it belonged to the Arundell family and we heard about a confusing succession of John Arundells. By the time we got to John Arundell Vth, I was feeling a bit dizzy and had rather lost the thread. I think it is a combination of a stressful few days, not just because of the ticket issue, a high pollen count and very humid weather. I went for a restorative slice of cake and then we decided to cut our visit short so that I could lie down in a darkened room (well a caravan at least), stopping only for supplies at a supermarket near us. I did note that the current Trerice was built in 1572 by John Arundell Vth, that the family supported the king in the English Civil War and that the window of the Great Chamber contains 576 panes of glass that date from the sixteenth century, as does the plaster ceiling in the upstairs room. From 1760 the house was in the hands of tenant farmers and fell into disrepair.

Wednesday 20 May 2026

Having recently spent some time listing all the different National Trust properties I’d been to (74), I was keen to see if there were any Cornish ones close enough that I had not ticked off the list. East Pool Mine was one but that is closed for repairs, however, I was alerted to Trevithick Cottage, open by appointment only. I’ve had a fascination with the mining engineer Richard Trevithick (1771-1833) since reading the Poldark books in the 1980s, so was keen to go and booked without incident. We found it without too much trouble, aided by asking a local and after a bit of a fiddle trying to park so as not to upset the neighbours, we were shown round by the current tenant. The granite and cob cottage dates from about 1700 and has a grade 2* listing which applies to the cottage and associated outbuildings. The thatch is traditional long-straw thatch, which I know from my straw-plaiting endeavours is very hard to acquire. The cottage was Trevithick’s family home from the age of two until his marriage; his father was a mine captain at the nearby Dolcoath mine.

Thursday 21 May 2026

Another day another National Trust property, this time Lanhydrock. This too was a return visit. We were last here four years ago but my travelling companion has no recollection of it at all.  I had forgotten quite how far it was from the car park to the house but it seems I am not as feeble as I was on Tuesday as I make it there and back without coming over all unnecessary. Lanhydrock was the home of the Robartes family, purchased by Richard Robartes in 1620, using money he’d made supplying both fuel and credit to the nearby tin mines. There was a disastrous fire in the 1800s and Thomas Charles Agar-Robartes spent the equivalent of 8∙7 million pounds restoring it. At the same time, he built a new modern kitchen block, where twenty five people worked, there weres a further fifteen indoor staff and forty estate workers. The displays name some of the staff and tell us a little about them. The kitchen designs were based on a book by Robert Kerr, The Gentleman’s House. I continue my research into caramel magnum quality, I fear I will need a few more before passing judgement.

Friday 22 May 2026

We are now in the position of needing to leave this caravan site before the incoming vans arrive at 1pm, yet not arrive at our destination half an hour away before 2pm. Even given that we are not the fastest driver in the west this is a logistical problem. Normally we’d ask to stay late on the site and that’s usually not a problem but the road to the site is single track for much of the way and we really don’t want to meet something larger than a car coming the other way as new holidaymakers arrive. I try to stem my ‘will we be allowed on site?’ stress as much as I can, as well as running through plans b to z in my head. Inevitably, we arrive two hours too early and understandably, are told to go and hide until the appointed time; two more hours before I know our fate. We find a road wide enough to park and still let the bus pass (just) and feel just a tad conspicuous doing so.

The witching hour arrives and we approach with trepidation. I haven’t obeyed the instruction to display our sticker from five miles out, as it clearly says campervan and with the best will in the world, a campervan we are not. We join a short queue and are waved in through the gate. I flourish our not yet stuck sticker and say ‘we aren’t actually a campervan’. 10 out of 10 for observation me. ‘Doesn’t matter’ says the guy in hi viz. Well what a shame someone didn’t reply to my frantic emails ten days ago to that effect and allow me to enjoy the anticipation and excitement in the run up to the weekend. Through the gate then, that’s the first hurdle but we still aren’t on a pitch. We are guided to another queue, which turns out to be the queue for accessible camping. We haven’t quite reached that stage yet so our driver needs to perform a neat manoeuvre to get us on to the field and we are in! Finally, I can start to enjoy myself.

We wander round to exchange our tickets for wristbands, so now I don’t have to worry about losing the tickets. Next, a recce of the site to see what’s what, investigating the craft tent and deciding that there’s a lot of lovely things we can do without and then listening to some folk musicians on the bandstand stage. We return to the van for sustenance and then head back to the bandstand for some of the fringe acts. ‘We don’t need the ponchos’, I declare. We listen to The Port Isaac Gulls, a female acapella group. It turns out we do need ponchos and I send my stalwart companion back for them while I chair save and hope that the few drops of rain don’t materialise into much more. Next up is a female duo Sound of the Sirens. We stay for the opening numbers from 1940s band Company B before bowing to the descending fog, falling temperatures and drizzle and call it a day, returning to the van to warm up. The rest of the country is in the midst of a heatwave, not so here, which may be just as well. We have new neighbours as the previous ones hadn’t paid for electricity, so were moved to where they wouldn’t be tempted to just plug in. We are not the only caravan masquerading as a campervan.

Saturday 23 May 2026

The site was surprisingly quiet last night and the gentle hum of the nearby generator wasn’t a problem. We listen to the ‘Ahoy Rise and Shine’ session, intended for children. This was led by Rob Punder of Entertainingly Different and was actually a good example of what it was. It brought back memories of summers on the beach when my children were small and being entertained by United Beach Missions. This is the first festival that I’ve been to since I was seventeen. I channel my inner flower power generation self and relive my youth by buying clothes that I would have worn then – 70 is the new 17 right? I do (just) resist the temptation of a felt pixie hat complete with toadstool and oak leaf decorations. The acts begin in the main marquee at midday with a set from the Fisherman’s Friends. Mindful of our senior status, we take chairs. This does mean that we are behind those with the stamina to stand, so it is a case of hearing the acts rather than seeing them.

Porthleven Town Band bring back more memories of summer weekends, this time watching the girls playing in a brass band. The band also has some excellent singers and their rendition of Cornwall my Home, with a male voice choir vibe, was incredibly powerful and moved many people to tears. You can listen online but it doesn’t fully convey the highly charged atmosphere in the tent. Definitely one of the stand out performances of the weekend for me. Bear in mind they are a band not a choir. Next up, The Longest Johns of the viral weatherman song fame, Irish singer Sharon Shannon and then Seth Lakeman. We returned to the van to eat, finding the Fisherman’s Friends film was on television. Then it was back to the marquee for headliner Jules Holland. We didn’t stay too long, just enough to say we’d seen him. Thick fog had descended with the darkness again.

Sunday 14 May 2026

We went to support the children’s entertainment again. This put us in the right place to see Fisherman’s Friends member Marcus Bonfanti, with a blues set; he was accompanied by his daughter Isabella for a couple of numbers. We were in time for the second half of the Splann ceilidh band in the main arena and managed a Gay Gordons and a mammoth set of Strip the Willow without too many ill effects. They were followed by the Cornish choir the Oggymen, who were up there with our favourite acts. Peat and Diesel followed, excellent  musicians but a bit too heavy metal for us. Another highlight was Skippinish and I splashed out on a CD, which I got signed. The evening was Kate Rusby from Barnsley and then an hour to wait for Fisherman’s Friends. We’d decided that we would stand, so that we could at least see the band. The crowds formed straight after Kate finished and we found ourselves four rows from the front. This worked well in the beginning. Unlike a theatre, you could sing along at full volume and not be heard and jig about a bit. It was certainly a great atmosphere. This was however the day that the heatwave finally reached Cornwall and half way through I’d already been standing for two hours. I had to bail out to the side of the arena where I could sit down and fell some fresh air. Nonetheless, it was a great weekend. The following day, we left early to avoid the Bank Holiday traffic and heat and were home by 10am. Would we do it again, on balance, yes I think we would if we could.

Looking Backward, Looking Forward

by thehistoryinterpreter

This post is a few weeks overdue as life has been even more hectic than usual but a recent ‘big’ birthday was time for reflection. Having very nearly completed my memories of my life up until now, there has been a great deal of looking back. I’ve been working on this for twelve years, since I attempted to keep up alongside the lovely group of ladies who helped me to produce Remember Then: memories of 1946-1969 and how to write your own. Since then, I have helped several more groups, each time vowing and failing, to keep up but making a little more progress each time. My most recent attempt was with the Write your Life Story group  that I lead for the Society of Genealogists. This time I so very nearly made it. I hoped to have it completed for my birthday but I am just half a chapter short. I am 410 pages and over 114,000 words in. I can’t imagine anyone will want to read it but it has been fun and important to do. Some of it, with redactions, is on my Granny’s Tales site. Having said that no one will read it, people clearly have nothing better to do, I have had positive feedback from those who grew up where I did, or who went to the same schools as me. Our personal history overlaps with the history of others, so our memories have a relevance for local and social historians, with the caveat that memory can be flawed. The series of monthly Monday afternoon online sessions with the Society of Genealogists starts again in June if you want to join the fun.

In the course of looking back I got diverted down a rabbit hole when my daughter alerted me to some free ‘Travel Visualiser’ software that allow you to map which British counties you’ve lived in, stayed in and visited. About twenty years ago, inspired by an American friend who was trying to spend a few days every US state, we decided we’d do the same for English counties. For the first few years, this was a concerted effort then it drifted into abeyance, although were continuing to add counties by default. This is my map so far. I have been very conservative about where I’ve stayed. If I’ve just stayed for a weekend conference and not looked at the surrounding area, I haven’t included it as stayed. Equally, I haven’t included a couple of counties where I stayed as a child but only went to the beach. It is also really hard to work out where you’ve passed through.

This then led to me wondering how many National Trust, English Heritage and other tourist attractions I’d visited. I refused to re-read 57 diaries again so this depended on photo albums and the holiday diaries I’ve kept in more recent years, as well as looking at my collection of guide books, which I no longer add to. I’ve probably missed a few. I use a total of 40 English Counties as I include the Isle of Wight separately. Counting just properties, rather including than countryside, my total so far is 74 National Trust properties in 29 counties and 47 English Heritage sites in 22 counties, with particularly good coverage of Cornwall, Devon, the Isle of Wight and Northumberland. I can also tick off a total of 43 Isle of Wight tourist attractions, quite a few of which are no longer open.

I am proud of what I have achieved in the last *0 years. There has been joy and sadness but I am very much a glass half full person. Yes I have regrets but I aim to have as few as possible going forward (there’s a song in that somewhere). Aware that I am now on borrowed time and my body will already no longer allow me to do quite as much as I used to, I am cramming in as much as I can, while I can. There definitely needs to be a sequel to the story of my first *0 years. Apart from the Norwegian cruise and the family visit to Centre Parcs, which were part of the birthday celebrations, recent weeks have included a whirlwind family history based week away and an extended family reunion weekend. No wonder this post is delayed.

In the interest of bucket list ticking, I arranged to go riding on the beach up the road, as a birthday present to myself. The local stables do this regularly and I quite fancied having a go. Never mind the fact that I’ve only ridden once since I was seventeen. A friend said ‘did you canter?’ Canter? She jests; I was going as slowly as possible and clinging on for grim death like a tenacious limpet. As I didn’t want to go faster than very slowly I had to book a whole ride, which would usually be for several people, to myself. The weather was very windy and drizzly, which was a shame and horses seem to sway a lot more than they used to. I had a large but placid mount who belied the name Spirit. The staff at Follyfoot Stables were fantastic and took loads of photos which display varying degrees of me looking wet, cold and petrified. I was slightly concerned, as it was very expensive because I was paying for a solo session (which would have been good value per person for six people), that I might love it so much that I’d want to make this a regular thing. Fortunately, it was just that little bit too scary. I was very glad that I did it but once was enough and I am quite content to hang up my riding boots (I don’t actually have any riding boots) forever.

Reaching *0 is a privilege not granted to all and I am determined to ‘seize the day’ and make the most of the time I have left. Looking forward, there more to do while I still can. We are off to the Fisherman’s Friends Festival shortly. Festival-going is also something I’ve not done since my teens. Not looking forward to the 11pm finishes but hey. More caravanning in order to tick off a few more counties is in the diary for later this year. I’ve arranged to go to Iceland and there’s a couple more overseas places I’d like to visit. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve probably left it too late for Madagascar. I want to see as much of my nearest and not so near dearest as I possibly can and I’ve been on a mission to catch up with as many old friends as possible. I send about eighty Christmas cards each year and some of the people I have not seen for decades. I am therefore on a quest to remedy this if possible and I am having my photo taken with them as I go, so that I can create an album.

I’ve taken on a small additional role for the job we must not mention, so hope to continue with that for a few more years. I am carrying on giving talks hither and yon, mostly online. In a way, I’d like more free evenings but then I think, yes I can do another one. I really must learn that when ‘no’ is in my head, ‘yes’ should not come out of my mouth. This applies to more than just talks. There are family history stories still to be told and I am toying with the idea of another postgraduate qualification. If successful, this would mean that I had one from universities in England, Ireland and Scotland. I am still determined to get back to spinning (the textile kind not the extreme gym activity). I definitely want to make more of living where I do and not suddenly realise that the summer is over and I’ve barely seen the sea. I am trying to cut down on some of my voluntary roles so that I have time to just relax, when I discover what that is.

Family Reunions and Gothic Revival Houses

by thehistoryinterpreter

Each year since the 1980s, the first May Bank Holiday weekend has been the time for members of the extended Braund family to reunite in North Devon. This year we had visitors from Australian and New Zealand, as well as those joining in from the USA on zoom. This occasions are always an opportunity for eating far too much but we also try to see some of Devon’s historic sites. This year’s offerings included a guided walk round Bideford, which has a fascinating history and an outing to Knightshayes Court. Knightshayes was the home of the Heathcot-Amory family from 1872-1997. The family’s fortune was due to the bobinet lace making machine invented by John Heathcote. This made the process much quicker and therefore more profitable but was very unpopular as it required less labour, so put people out of work. Forced to move from his native Midlands, John Heathcote took over a disused woollen mill in Tiverton and located his lace-making factory there. The factory still exists but has passed into other ownership. It was his grandson, Sir John Heathcote-Amory, MP for Tiverton and later a baronet, who used his grandfather’s fortune to commission Knightshayes in order to demonstrate the family’s wealth and status. William Burges was appointed to be the architect of this Gothic Revival style stately home but when his ideas proved to be too extreme, he was replaced by John Dibblee Crace, whose designs were out of fashion before they were finished. Various features were dismantled and stored by the family and the National Trust have been able to restore some of this to reflect Crace’s vision. The house was requisitioned as a hospital for the wounded during both world wars.

Flowers picked from the gardens and grounds appear in most of the  rooms, together with details of the flowers that have been used and the name of the volunteer who arranged them. A beautiful crewelwork bedspread was worked on by Lady Heathcot-Amory, who invited her guests to add a few stitches. There was an exhibition dedicated to Joyce Heathcot-Amory née Wethered, who was a well-known championship golfer, renowned for her swing. She turned professional and was inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame.

We will do it all again next year by which time I may have lost the weight that I put on this year.

Family History Wanderings Part 2

by thehistoryinterpreter

A distinct downside of the Rookesbury Park caravan site is the one bar of wifi and zero phone signal. This meant that, on arrival at the Marriott Hotel, venue for the 47th Guild of One-Name Studies conference, I needed to upload two photobooks for printing before my pre-paid vouchers ran out. This had to be carefully timed so the resulting books didn’t arrive while I wasn’t at home, so I couldn’t do it earlier. This and the fact that I was ostensibly ‘helping’ meant that I missed Brian Swann’s opening presentation about resources for Portsmouth Shipping.

I was glad to be able to listed to Frances Hurd’s ‘Sex, Violence and Alcohol: after effects of the Great War’. I hadn’t realised that then a shell-shock diagnosis relied on physical, rather than psychological, symptoms. This was followed by a fascinating presentation from graphic designer Sarah Houghton, ‘Representing the People: envisioning the hidden history of the Portsmouth suffragist movement’. This was fascinating. Sarah has created wonderful animations about the march of the suffragists from Portsmouth to London and has also recreated some of the banners that they carried. Do check out her website.

I started day two with one of the fringe talks, Valerie Brenton on finding teachers’ records. This was a good summary and deserved a wider audience. Next up was Paul Carter with ‘Making your Research Manageable’, whose verdict on AI was that it was useful as a clerk but dangerous as a judge. Continuing the AI theme, was John Thew, who illustrated what might happen when someone tried to use AI to do their family history, particularly if that person wasn’t very skilled in providing suitable AI prompts. The take away was that humans are still significantly better at making genealogical connections than AI.

Nick Barrett held the after lunch spot, providing hints for Medieval and early modern resources. One of my favourite presentations was Sally Gardiner’s ‘Who was Ann Elizabeth Epitaux’. Sally had purchased a sampler at auction and her U3A group had worked collectively to trace the ancestry of the person who was named on it. Considering that Ann Elizabeth had ancestors who were Jones from Wales, they did remarkably well. I was then part of a panel fielding questions about the future of family history. There was plenty about AI, which is clearly the hot topic.

The Gala Dinner followed. By the time I had joined the drinks reception queue, they’d run out of orange juice. I asked the staff member, who looked about twelve, who said he would bring it to my table. This did not materialise so I asked another waiter – possibly thirteen this one, who asked if I wanted it in a glass. Well yes, not sure swigging out of bottles is the done thing at a gala dinner. He then produced a jug of orange juice for two of us but still no glasses. The after dinner speaker was Harry Rothery about the Mary Rose. I’ve heard talks about the Mary Rose before but probably so long ago that Harry wasn’t born. It is fascinating what has been done recently. I may put Portsmouth Dockyard down for a revisit.

Then it was Sunday. After an ecumenical service, it was my turn with a new presentation ‘Preserving the Past for the Future’. I was pleased with how it went and the resulting book sales. Then I listened to Daris Williams’ presentation, entitled ‘Is AI the new Snake Oil?’, with a very balanced view of the pros and cons. He said that the hope is that all the records on Family Search will be searchable via the full text option by the end of the year.

A break from the focus on technology was Howard Benbrook’s talk on the Hampshire Swing Riots, although, as he pointed out, there are parallels to be drawn between reactions to threshing machine’s and to AI. A useful website that he recommended is www.theenglishprojectcaptainswing.org. Back to technology for the afternoon with ‘Navigating Modern DNA techniques’ from Donna Rutherford and Sophie Kay describing the open source software Gephi. This enables you to visualise your DNA matches but could also be used for other kinds of networks.

Then it was all over. We said our goodbyes and look forward to reuniting next year, when the conference will once again be in Portsmouth.