Author Archives: thehistoryinterpreter

WeAre Having Fun

by thehistoryinterpreter

Some months ago, because I teach ‘Writing and Sharing your Family History’ courses, I was given access to the, then brand new, WeAre family and local history sharing platform. I need to say first of all that this came without any strings. I am not obliged to review it, mention it, or recommend it and I have zero financial interest in the software. Platforms with similar aims have come and in some cases, gone but I was keen to give this a try. I can say that it is definitely the best sharing platform of its kind that I have seen.

When it first arrived, I had a little play. I had recently set up my own Granny’s Tales website. I do wonder if WeAre had come first, whether I would have used that instead but I was not going to abandon Granny’s Tales. What could I do with WeAre that was different/complementary to my other ways of publicising my research? One of the main features of WeAre is the ability to share your research with relatives and if you wish, allow them to collaborate. This is always a tricky one – what relatives? Lacking siblings or first cousins and second cousins numbering just six, it is pretty stony ground for me. That left my children and grandchildren. I have used Family Tree Maker software for my family trees since it was on 3½” floppy disks but I don’t have a single tree; I could never control that. This meant that I didn’t have a GedCom that I could upload containing all the family members that I have gathered in nearly fifty years of research. I did however have a ‘tree’ which just included all my children’s direct ancestors, so I uploaded that. I added my father’s brothers and a few photos and pretty much forgot about it.

Then WeAre added features that were geared towards One-Place Studies, so I decided I would dust off my One Place Study for Thockrington and use it for that. I uploaded about forty people, wrote an introduction, added a little general stuff and promptly returned it to the back burner. Then my lovely Forgotten Women coven friends, several of whom were also using WeAre, decided that we would Zoom and all work on our sites on a specific day. This worked really well, both in terms of mutual encouragement and also technical assistance. What one person hadn’t worked out how to do, another had. This reignited my enthusiasm for my one place study and firmed my resolve to get on and add more. We are definitely going to have more mutual help sessions to encourage us to actually get things done to our sites.

I decided to begin with Thockrington’s graveyard, adding those commemorated on the surviving stones. This will not be quick; it took me two days to do ten stones. There are fifty four. Then of course there are parish registers, censuses, wills, tax lists and all the other sources I have used, so I will need to live until I am 150 but baby steps. I can’t even say the site is still in its infancy, more like still in the womb but maybe it is entering its second trimester. I have made it live, so the others from the mutual encouragement group can see it but there’s so much to be done, that it is probably best to say that it is a soft launch!

Then, out of the blue, Edward, aged ten, asked some family history questions. I have been trying to interest young people, including my grandchildren, in family history and heritage since forever, so I grasped this straw with both hands. I was reminded that his direct ancestry was all there on WeAre. He started by looking for houses that he and his parents had lived in to add to the map. Then he wanted to chat about family history on Zoom. He was interested in ‘the medieval period, famous people who aren’t you Granny, funny names and weird jobs.’ Hmm this was something of a challenge. I quickly exhausted the possibilities of the founder of Smith’s crisps, who was my great grandfather’s cousin. I do still have Anne Balls Bulley up my sleeve but where to go next?

Then a friend reminded me that Family Search has an activity that tells you how you are related to ‘famous people’. Unfortunately, this is based on the Family Search ‘one tree’, which is stuffed full of what we will call kindly ‘creative genealogy’ aka total garbage. Last time I looked at my famous relatives, I firmly removed my connection to Princess Diana for the nth time. Fortunately Princess Di no longer features, leaving me with Benjamin Franklin, Winston Churchill, Lucille Ball, Elvis Presley and Helen Keller. Edward had heard of Winston Churchill and Elvis at least. He happily went away and found out about Helen Keller, although I have to say that the link is ‘speculative’. Of the five, the most convincing is the connection to Churchill. At least here my own line does go back to the alleged mutual ancestor. If Edward wants to add Churchill to our tree he is welcome. He can add Helen Keller if he chooses. This is not my main ‘correct’ tree, it is not public. If it sparks his interest that’s what matters. The ‘what is the evidence for this, are we sure?’ conversation can come later. The key to encouraging young people is to let them do things their way. Edward added his cats to the tree; I will take being grandparent to two cats. I am anticipating Edward’s cousin may want to add her tankful of tropical fish one by one, right down to the snails that inhabit her tank but it doesn’t matter. Give birth to fifteen guinea pigs if you have to, do whatever it takes to ignite that curiosity about the past. WeAre having fun.

The Year so Far – a Family History Whirlwind

by thehistoryinterpreter

The year began with family visitors, which is always very special. As a bonus, this year they didn’t include any lurgies amongst their seasonal gifts. The new year also means paying the tax bill. This wasn’t a surprise and the money was put aside but it is always a bit of a shock to see the bank balance suddenly depleted by what seems to be an eye-watering amount. Added to this, it seemed I needed to pay a different HMRC bank account, which meant setting up a new payee. I have one of those little card reader things that gives you a secret code to verify that you are not a fraudster. I’ve had the thing for ages, which is probably why it chose this moment to decide that its batteries had had enough. Before these obscure-sized and expensive batteries died a final death, they gave me a partial glimpse of the vital number. Could I guess what figures they were striving to reveal? It turns out that I could. Hurrah.

It has been full on family history on many fronts since the visitors departed. I’ve finished a magazine article. My new book is signed off and is due out in May, pre-orders should be opening up soon. I love they cover that Pen and Sword have chosen. I’ve also, rashly, signed a contract for another one. Will I ever learn? Not totally unrelated, is the work I’ve been doing towards the next Forgotten Women Friday collaborative research day for the A Few Forgotten Women project. This one is to be about women associated with Dorchester Prison.

My Pharos Agricultural Labourers online course has started again this week with a full, enthusiastic cohort. Next up on the Pharos front will be the first presentation of ‘Putting your Female Ancestors into Context’ in March. This filled up so quickly, that I agreed to take more students than usual. This means that there are still just two spaces left, if you want to come along for the ride.

I’ve have been giving talks like, well, like someone who gives an awful lot of talks I suppose. I’ve been out and about in person chatting about herbs and plague and online with the history of prostitution, marginalised ancestors and writing your family history amongst other things. This has taken me to Northern Ireland, to Surrey to Lincoln and other points in between. I have also recorded talks for future broadcasts. Rootstech is on the horizon. The pre-recorded talks have not yet been announced but there will be a short session from me in there, when I will be talking about British administrative units, do you know your townland from your wapentake, or your riding from your peculiar? If not, seek out my ten minute chat when Rootstech opens next month. Even better, online attendance is free. Legacy Family Tree Webinars have announced this year’s programme and I will be popping up there too later in the year. It is a fascinating programme, well worth the subscription.

The volume of talks in a sort space of time has obviously been getting to me, as on the night before two talks Monday I had a bizarre dream in which I had double booked myself and my mother was going to deputise for me. A couple of issues with this. She isn’t actually alive and she’d decided she was going to talk about red wine, a subject about which she knew nothing in life.

A little late to the party, I’ve been playing with Family Search’s full text search facility, which is in experimental mode and can be accessed at https://www.familysearch.org/en/labs/ once you are signed in to Family Search, which is free. This allows you to use AI generated transcriptions to search for names within the body of a document, such as the beneficiaries in a will for example. My take on this is that there is loads of good stuff on there and this has the potential to be brilliant but as yet there are still some drawbacks, which is understandable, as this is still being trialled. AI’s palaeography skills are pretty basic and mistakes are made that would not be made by a human, such as ‘Michael wears’ for Michaelmas,, rendering the sentence nonsensical. Searching is clumsy. It is very difficult to narrow down the results. You need to ignore the headings, which are often very misleading. Documents labelled Warwickshire, for example, turn out to also include many other counties. Having said that, it is definitely worth a play but make sure you have a few hours to spare first.

I’ve even found time for some of my own research and am deep down a rabbit hole following the story of a several greats uncle who was transported. It will be coming to a Granny’s Tales site near you shortly.

Family History Round Up

by thehistoryinterpreter

Life has been busy busy as usual and not just because of the season. Here is a quick round up of various family and local history related activities. I’ve just finished leading my Pharos course on the illnesses of our ancestors. It was only a small group this time but they were very keen and have done plenty of research to share with the rest of the group. Next up will be Agricultural Labourers in January. I am also very excited about my Female Ancestors course, which is, thankfully, now written. It did take me down some rabbit holes, as I decided that I should provide some sample answers, which basically meant me doing the course myself. I spent a lovely couple of days looking at my great grandmother’s life as a housemaid and I am very grateful to Mrs Beeton for providing such a comprehensive guide. I’d have been worn out before breakfast. To top it off, “On leisure days, the housemaid should be able to do some needlework for her mistress,—such as turning and mending sheets and darning the house linen, or assist her in anything she may think fit to give her to do. For this reason it is almost essential that a housemaid, in a small family, should be an expert needlewoman; as, if she be a good manager and an active girl, she will have time on her hands to get through plenty of work.” You can read Clara’s story on my Granny’s Tales website, which also has a few more additions and tweaks.

We had a lovely time playing Victorian parlour games at my no longer quite so local history group. The power cuts in the aftermath of Storm Darragh added verisimilitude but we soldiered on by candlelight. The game of large scale Nine Men’s Morris was taken very seriously. Charades, using carol titles led to some hilarity. Ok, maybe including We Three Kings was a mistake.

There have been talks to give, both in person and online and Mistress Agnes has had a couple of outings. The good thing about in person talks at this time of year is that they come with seasonal refreshments. Best not the imbibe the mulled wine before the talk, I’ve learned. I’ve also chatted to the Society of Genealogist’s Book Club about Sins as Red as Scarlet. Not the lightest of holiday reading but I am glad that most realised what I was aiming at with this book.

On the subject of books, I have some proofs to read and have just signed a contract for what will be my third non-fiction book for Pen and Sword. I am really looking forward to the research for that one. A not totally unrelated activity is some preparation for the next collaborative research day with A Few Forgotten Women. This one is looking at inmates and staff from Dorchester Prison. There’s potential for some good stories there.

There’s plenty going on next year too, with nine talks in January alone. Why does this always seem like a good idea at the time? I am also looking forward to helping a new cohort to write their life stories with the Society of Genealogists in the spring.

I’ll finish with a non-historical incident, which may well be illustrative of me having too much on my mind. My breakfast of choice is granola, fruit and yoghurt. The fruit is usually frozen berries, which I take out each morning, ready to defrost for the next day. To be honest, I am surprised this is the first time this has happened but this week, I poured the granola in the wrong bowl, so that I had a mixture of frozen berries and granola. I know I could have just thrown it away but waste not want not, so I tried to separate a bowl full of granola and berries. Not just large lumpy berries oh no, some were blueberries and teeny tiny cranberries. It felt like some kind of reality TV challenge, not one at which I would excel.

This may be the last post before the holiday season, so I will leave you with Season’s Greetings from the family postcard collection.

Up the Garden Path 13

by thehistoryinterpreter

Although I said that there would be no more updates until spring, I thought I would just mention the recent storm, which reached over 80mph in my little corner of the country. Fortunately, the garden itself is relatively sheltered so the damage could definitely have been worse. The smallest pots of heather in the front garden blew over and in a couple of cases came out of their pots. The chrysanthemums ended up on their sides but managed to retain their earth and a few plants look a little wind blown. The main casualty was the back fence, which has a distinct list to starboard. In order to prevent it leaning further ,or giving up entirely and lying down (and who could blame it) whilst it awaits proper repair, the fence mender of my acquaintance decided an interim remedy was required- at least I hope it is interim. I kid you not, he has tied it to the pond. He probably has memories of just how heavy said pond was to manoeuvre into position.

Although I don’t really like buying plants by mail order, as I like to see what I am buying, there were three things on my must have list that I hadn’t seen all year in any of my garden centre forays. I decided that now was the time to treat myself, so somewhere in the garden is a guelder rose, a windflower and a mock orange. They don’t look much at the moment but I am hoping that they will survive.

It is obviously not a great time of year for things to be in flower but one or two things are braving the December chills, Randomly this includes a honeysuckle, which is in part of the garden that gets zero sun at this time of year. Mind you Storm Darragh kindly deposited a fine layer of sand all over my windows, so it is tricky to see what is going on in the garden, unless I venture outside.

Christmas is Coming

by thehistoryinterpreter

Having moved the week before Christmas last year, I missed all the excitement and anticipation so I was determined to start early this year. There was no time for considered placement of decorations when I was in the throes of moving, so the tree went in the conservatory. It was in full view of the living room but somehow wasn’t the same, so this year, into my tiny living room it had to go. This has involved a certain amount of furniture removing and I am not sure how or where I am going to put the dining table up but I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. I do love Christmas traditions and I am proud that my tree contains ornaments that span nine decades. The earliest my parents had when they first married in the 1940s. The family come for Christmas each year, with copies of historic family photos strung up on peg lights that are designed for Christmas cards. Not many people have their 4x great grandfather observing the festivities.

Sadly, not everyone has happy memories of Christmases past, nor are they able to enjoy Christmas present. If your childhood Christmases were special, do record your recollections for future generations. You can read mine here. I’ve also written about the historic Christmas tree decorations, how many did you have on your childhood trees and do you still have them?

Up the Garden Path 12

by thehistoryinterpreter

It has been a while since the last gardening update but that probably reflects the time of year and the fact that I was away for the whole of September. As I hadn’t asked anyone to water the garden while I was away, with much of the garden being in pots, I was wondering what would survive a month of neglect. Every pot was moved to the shadiest part of the garden and stood in an old paddling pool and other similar, water-filled receptacles, as my fingers remained firmly crossed. I think I must have done too good a rain dance, as Devon was deluged in September, which was good for my plants, as everything survived but less good for my local friends and neighbours. By contrast, I had lovely weather in the north.

I have now almost seen the seasons round in this garden and the winter jasmine is starting to bloom again. The robin has returned to the garden and I have had solitary glimpses of a great tit and a wren. The potato crop has been harvested. ‘Minimal’ is the word that springs to mind. The geraniums have been moved into the summerhouse for the winter and the garden chair has been dismantled and squeezed into the shed.

The three large chrysanthemums in pots, that I mentioned last time, have flowered. They were sold as being white, yellow and rust coloured. I guess one out of three isn’t bad, as I have rust, paler orange and dusky pink. They are past their best now but have been glorious. A piece broke off the rust coloured one and we shoved it in a pot. It has rooted and is now flowering! I also have yellow and white chrysanthemums in a hanging basket. Other additions include a Capsicum, a Hosta and a Michaelmas daisy, which I brought back from holiday, along with some rue. The Michaelmas daisy isn’t looking too healthy but maybe it will revive.

There’s been some more moving. One of the many sheds is an unsightly plastic affair that houses the bins. It was on view from the conservatory, so we moved it to the other side of the tarmacked area. It is now on view from the converted garage room but you win some you lose some. Fortunately, this was a great deal less effort than other shed moving escapades. In the place where it once stood is a new plant trough. This was bought especially for a climbing Josephine Bruce rose. In truth, I am not generally a great roses fan, well only the chocolate sort but I particularly wanted this as it was my father’s favourite flower and it climbed all over an arch in my childhood garden. I had been told that it was also the rose in my mother’s wedding bouquet but it seems that it wasn’t bred and introduced until three years after they married, so maybe it was just a similar rose and they thought it was the same. Said rose arrived in the post as a ‘bare root’ specimen. This basically means that it has to be planted straight away. ‘Straight away’ turned out to be the coldest day of the year, when much of Devon was under several inches of snow. Fortunately my little corner had escaped with just rain, although it was pretty jolly chilly and not ideal for any kind of gardening. Now I just have to work out how to keep it alive.

Up until a few weeks ago, my garden was 100% not overlooked. Then an over the back neighbour dug up a large buddleia, giving me just a tiny corner view of their conservatory and vice versa. Just at this time, the fisherman of my acquaintance acquired an eight foot high evergreen tree thing, species unknown, in a pot, that was surplus to someone else’s requirements. ‘We could stand it in that corner’, he says. Not really my choice of plant but I thought it might serve a purpose at least for now. I particularly wanted to keep it in the pot, partly because it may be a temporary acquisition and also to stop it growing much more. The corner in question in on the raised bed. We then had to get a very heavy, eight foot high tree up on to a two foot high raised bed. Undaunted, scaffold boards were arranged to provide a slope up to the raised bed. The plan was to lay the tree down and roll the pot along and up the boards. The trouble was that the pot was not cylindrical but was noticeably wider at the top than the bottom. This, of course, means that, when rolled, it went round in circles and not in a straight line. By dint of ‘roll a little, straighten, repeat’ the tree was elevated into position. It doesn’t completely block the gap left by the buddleia but it helps. I am a fair weather gardener so it may be spring before the next gardening update.

What Janet did Next

by thehistoryinterpreter

Time for a bit of a round-up of recent events, both in the family history world and beyond. Let’s start with the beyond stuff. It was time for one of my infrequent trips to the hairdressers. I engender despair in all those who attempt to do things to my hair. “It is HOW long since you last had your hair cut?” I am asked in incredulous tones. Then having established that I just ‘wash and go’ she asked if I blow-dried my fringe to give it more volume. Lady, you are talking to someone who hasn’t owned a hairdryer for fifty years!

As a non-cook Christmas cake and pudding and occasionally chutney are pretty much my only forays into cooking (beyond shoving things in the oven and taking them out again) but it was time to undertake the annual challenge. Goodness, this actually involves weighing stuff and mixing stuff together. No longer having a Rayburn to assist, I decided, for the first time ever, to cook puddings in the slow cooker. My recipe makes three puddings. Realistically, even accounting for visitors, I really don’t want more than two but three it always has been, so three it is. The slow cooked ones did need finishing off on the hob but they were looking really good. The cakes, yes two of those too because well because there always are two, not so much, well, more of a disaster actually. In my defence, I have a new-to-me oven, although I really can’t blame the results on that. I cooked them for the prescribed time. I cooked them some more and then for several more hours but they remained in an oily uncooked state. I risked taking them out of the tins and they slumped gracefully into a heap. I fear mixed peel was to blame. I am quite a fan of mixed peel so for the last 45 or so years that I’ve been cooking these, I always add extra mixed peel. Ok, so I’ll concede that four times what was required by the recipe was an expensive mistake but we live and learn. The end product is edible but cake it is not, not by any stretch of the imagination. A fisherman of my acquaintance is manfully working his way through two cakes worth of fruity blob, heating portions in the microwave and adding ice cream.

Next, the saga that was trying to renew my house insurance. There’s a ‘new system’, requiring answers to questions that haven’t been asked before. This means that, on the renewal notice, they have basically made up a load of ‘average’ answers to fill in the blanks. Having got over the issue of nothing on the system even vaguely resembling my occupation, I corrected a few things. These included “When did you move in?” – their answer 1900; must say, I feel pretty good for 124. “How many storeys do you have? 2 (yes it says it is a bungalow etc etc). New killer question, “Are you less than 400m from the sea, a river, or a water course?” I had the devil’s own job trying to work this out. Point 1, where do you count the sea from? High tide? Low tide? and then high tides vary. Point 2, even if you know where the sea starts how the ***** do you measure because they obviously want the answer as the crow flies and even the most detailed map really isn’t going to give me an accurate enough measurement. If the distance was 200m or 600m I’d know the answer but 400m is pretty much exactly how far I am from the sea, sometimes. In the end I had to say I was nearer, as I could just imagine them refusing to pay out on a burglary because I’d said I was further away and it turned out that I was 398m away. After a load of faffing and trying to find out on useless websites it turned out not to make a difference to the premium anyway. Half an hour of my life I won’t get back. At least I have no longer lived in a two story bungalow for 124 years with a mythical husband.

I’ve also spent a wonderful eighteen hours in an idyllic location, eating good food and trying to solve a murder mystery set on the French Riviera. It was exceptionally well done and although we didn’t identify ’im wot dun it, we came very close, largely because the people on our table spent ten years living in the location where the story was set.

On the family history front, The A Few Forgotten Women Team, of which I am a proud member, have held another very successful collaborative research day, this time looking at women who can be found in refuges for fallen women in a census return. I did the example biography for this, a lady called Lucy Adderley; she certainly had a story to tell. Then my allocated lady for the day, Fanny Sophia Austen, who was a staff member in the institution, turned out to be a niece of THE Jane Austen.

I’ve recorded and uploaded my presentation for Rootstech 2025. Just a short recorded session from me this year about UK places, distinguishing your lathes from your hundreds and your tithings from your townlands. I, deliberately, haven’t taken on any paid research for quite some time but this week, I was tasked with untangling two people of the same name and establishing how they were related. It turned out that there were actually several more people with the same, unusual, name, all related and the inevitable total nonsense on a plethora of online family trees, which I studiously avoided. It was great fun and I was able to confirm for the client that the two individuals were first cousins.

My online Pharos course about twentieth century research is drawing to a close and a new course about the ill health of our ancestors has just begun. You’ve barely missed anything if you want to join in with In Sickness and and Death. The course last five weeks and the lessons are sent to you as pdfs that you can follow when it is convenient to you. There’s an optional weekly online chat and a student forum.

Time I think for a comment about FindMyPast’s (FMP) new subscription structure. This has created a cheaper, tier of subscription, where you can’t search for anything but you are dependent on hints that their algorithm suggests may be the person that you want. In general, I am a fan of FMP and have used it continuously since before it was even called FMP. I much prefer it to their main competitor. I am also in favour of making genealogy more accessible, which some would argue cheaper subscription can do. Having said that, I can’t see that this is going to do anything but encourage shoddy research. Maybe it is meant to be a carrot to encourage full subscriptions but so many will just do what a prominent family historian (pretty sure it was Dave Annal) called ‘click and collect’. For me, the fun is in the research in any case. I’d rather have my properly researched tree of about 3700 (and that has taken nearly fifty years to amass and includes my grandchildren’s families too) than 70,000 people in five minutes that I know nothing about, many of whom will not actually be my relatives at all. I guess it is a hobby and each to their own but I have to say that, in my opinion, this is not FMP’s brightest idea. If it encourages more subscribers I suppose the silver lining is that there will be funds for the digitisation of more records for those of us who want to do it properly.

It occurs to me that I haven’t blogged about family history since the excellent All About That Place event. If you want to hear me chatting about my straw plaiting ancestors in Buckinghamshire, or the General View of Agriculture, just click on the links.

Finally, because I have gone on for far too long, I have joined the eXodus, as it is being called and am enjoying the unpolluted social media waters over on BlueSky, where a rapidly increasing number of my friends and colleagues can be found.

Mostly about Mull

by thehistoryinterpreter

You will be relieved to hear that this is the end of the Scottish jaunt. It seems like a lifetime ago! Firstly our trip to Mull.

We are pretty keen on islands and this trip will tick two more off the list. The first concern of the day is, will we find anywhere to park, ideally somewhere free. We had identified a possibility yesterday and do manage to locate a spot a shortish walk from the ferry terminal. The next stress inducing issue is that we have had our coach tickets for some time and I have printed these out at home but the ferry tickets, which I need to produce on four occasions, have only just arrived by email so rely on me having a workable phone. Too late, I realise that I could have forwarded this to my companion, so that we had access in two places. It isn’t even just an email, you have to open the email and then download something. This I can accomplish but my phone has days when it decides that the battery life is about five minutes. I spot a USB charging point in the terminal but for some reason this doesn’t work.

First ferry boarded and on the most beautiful, sunny, calm day we sit outside on the ferry to Craignure on Mull. The crew wear hard hats but none of these are fastened, surely that renders them next to useless? One of the deck hands serenades us with Mull of Kintyre. He really should stick to the day job.

We board a double decker bus, securing upstairs seat and with Andrew as our driver, set off for a thirty seven mile drive along a single track road to Fionnphort. It is an enjoyable drive with plenty of information supplied by Andrew, as well as comments on the inadequacy of the driving of other road users. This is the new road, built between the 1960s and the 1980s and halved the previous journey time. There is plenty of reversing and pulling in to passing places. Some of the other drivers appear to be in vehicles that don’t have reverse gears.

Mull’s population is about 3,000, with 200 on Iona. We spot one of the 8,000 deer on the island; there are also fallow deer. We see evidence of the mussel fishery, a seaweed farm and a forestry industry. Travelling in the coach proves hazardous and I manage to bang my head three times and whack my upper arm into the half raised arm rest.

We leave the bus to take the ferry to Iona. A notice tells us to turn our phones off. a) Why? And b) How is that going to work when our tickets are on our phones then? I have tried charging my phone on the bus, that charging point didn’t seem to work either. So far I am two ferries down with more than half my battery left.

After a short trip we alight on Iona and the first stop is the nunnery, founded in 1200. There is allegedly a carving of a naked women over the window of the refectory that was intended as protection from evil but we don’t spot it. Next, St Ronan’s Chapel, which was built about 1200, although there is evidence of an earlier chapel, dating from c.700. Interestingly, all the skeletons that have been found in this area are female.

Unfortunately, the heritage centre is not open but we probably wouldn’t have had time to explore it. We are still able to find out about the island’s history as a centre of religion. Columba, accompanied by twelve monks, arrived on Iona in 563 and founded the monastery, which would have been a timber construction. An account of Columba’s life, written by Adomnan, Iona’s abbot in the 690s, provides details of the early years of the monastery. It became a Benedictine foundation in 1200, which survived until the Reformation. What we see today is a reconstruction of the abbey as it would have been under the Benedictines. This was accomplished by the Iona Cathedral Trust in the early twentieth century and funded by the Duke and Duchess of Argyll.

Iona was famous for its scriptorium, where monks produced beautifully  illustrated religious manuscripts, including the Book of Kells, created about 800, which we saw in Ireland last year. Remnants of a path, dating from 700, survive. This ‘street of the dead’ was used as a processional route, passing the monastery’s holy places and leading to the shrine of St Columba. Crosses were erected on the route to mark places for contemplation. Viking raiders plundered the abbey from 795. In 806, sixty eight monks were killed. This led Abbot Cellach to take the monastery’s treasures and most of the monks to Kells in Ireland. Some monks remained on Iona. There were strong sea links between Iona and other religious houses in Scotland and Ireland. Viking raids continued for two centuries. In 825, Abbot Blathmac was killed when he refused to give raiders the jewelled casket containing St Columba’s bones. The abbot and fifteen monks were killed on the beach on 25 December 986.

The museum on site of the abbey contains many ancient carvings dating from the early 600s onwards, including huge crosses and tomb tops. In Medieval times many  of those from high society were brought here for burial. The twelfth century St Oran’s Chapel is the burial places of The MacDonalds. The site is home to St John’s Cross, thought to be the first Celtic Cross of its type.

We partake of lunch at the St. Columba Hotel, a little upmarket for us. We decide that we should have something regional, so Cullen skink for my companion and haggis, goat’s cheese and onion marmalade quiche for me. I wouldn’t normally eat haggis but the other options didn’t appeal. We sat outside and observed a cucumber eating dog on the next table. The owner had ordered a whole cucumber that he cut up and gave to the dog as treats.

The return journey passes without incident and we opt to stay  inside on the ferry to Oban as the temperature had dropped. We exited the ferry terminal in a different place, leaving us with a route march back to the car. It has been a lovely, if long day and we couldn’t have hoped for better weather.

The next day, the weather had turned grey but an improvement on what those further down south were experiencing, where there are severe floods. We picked a Scottish National Trust property that isn’t too far away and go to Arduaine Gardens. The coastal garden was created by James Arthur and Ethyl Campbell, who purchased the land in 1897. The garden suffered severe storm damage a couple of years ago, with many trees being blown down, so there is much restoration underway. There are some lovely views of the coast, although the visibility isn’t great. We don’t fancy the cake on offer in the neighbouring hotel, so it is back to the van via Lidl’s, who sadly, don’t have any tiramasu muffins this time. The afternoon is spent enjoying the sea views from the van and tomorrow we begin to wend our way home.

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.