More Gravestones, Ancestral Homes and Non-roads

The holiday is over but due to the non-existence of the caravan site’s internet for several days, you think I am still stranded in Northumberland. All this happened a week ago; I promise you will catch up eventually.

What is life like in the frozen north? you ask. Bracing, I think would be an accurate term; windy, a bit drizzly and about 10 degrees. It turns out that the car’s funny noise means it needs a new alternator and that is booked in for four day’s time. Now all we need is for it not to break down completely in the interim. We drive out to the edge of the Keilder Forest for more gravestone hunting of ‘almost certainly my ancestors’ the Newlands and the Corbitts. All I can say is that I have not inherited their hardy gene. They must have been very resilient, trying to eke out a living here 300 years ago. The landscape is inspiring but forsaken and bleak. All I need to do is to find a tiny bit more evidence to confirm that John Hogg really was the son of Robert and I can claim this area as an ancestral home. All the evidence suggests that John son of Robert should be on my family tree but I am waiting for something further (which I may never find) before I ink him in.

Another day and more ancestor hunting. This time though in a town, so slightly more adventurous. I enter the large town churchyard in search of a grave. I have no burial plan and there are hundreds of graves. What I do have is a photograph with a tiny bit of background that I am hoping to identify, in order to take my own photo. I pause just inside the entrance and hold up the blurry picture to indicate to my companion that we are looking for a grave near to a fence and a lamp post. I look at the grave immediately in front of me – and it was the one I sought! It also contained information that wasn’t legible in the photo. Definitely a win this time. For those who have been following my recent family history adventures, this commemorates Peter (he of the pig and the 5 women) his parents and two of his children, one of whom I had not been aware of before.

This success was followed by my first visit to a supermarket in more than six months. It was a smallish supermarket and it seemed to pass off without incident but I will be relieved to get back to home deliveries.

After braving the town, we feel in need of a socially distanced day, so it is off to one of my one-places for some covert photography of people’s houses. We are used to narrows country roads but my proposed route does take us to some ‘interesting’ places. Despite the fact that my companion is very keen on his ‘new to him’ car, he bravely goes where no self-respecting driver has been before. This is clearly not the place for the alternator to expire completely.

The non-road takes us past the ruined peel tower that might have been the home of the Hoggs who I hope are my ancestors. Some of the one-place farms are too far up drives to be photographed. Although my partner-in-crime expresses a willingness to turn up a front doors of strangers when we are in an area where visiting other people’s homes is forbidden, I am less keen. I am already aware that we have zoomed in to take pictures of farms displaying large ‘cctv in operation’ signs. I suspect the local farm-watch hotline is already buzzing with our descriptions.

This is the day when I should have been doing my alternative Race for Life. Given that my back is still not conducive moving much, I have decided to postpone my 5km run/jog/walk until I am nearer home. I have been ridiculously poor at asking for sponsors too, so if anyone has a few pennies to spare this is where to go.

Family History Excitements and Jumping on the Scottish Bandwagon

My book launch two weeks ago seems to belong in the dim and distant past now. It went very well thank you, with 120 Zooming in. Thanks go to Devon Family History Society for hosting. The book is selling steadily and I am starting to get some lovely feedback. If anyone could face popping a teeny review on the dreaded Amazon I’d be grateful, as this open doors to other reviews. You don’t have to have bought the book from Amazon, you just have to have bought something from them. Reviews elsewhere are also welcome of course. In case you’ve missed all this book news and if so where have you been? details are here.

Plenty of news in the Family History world. 2021 is going to be exciting. Rootstech, for which I am an Ambassador once again, is to be virtual and free. This really is a chance to embrace the Rootstech experience without going to Salt Lake City. 25-27 February are the dates to save and you can register now. I am also proud to be joining my down under friends as a speaker for the Family History Down Under conference in March. This too is a virtual event, with a great international line-up.

Then those of us who have done Ancestry DNA tests had our ethnicity estimates updated. These are of course just that – estimates but it seems that the whole world is now Scottish, not just me. My own estimate changed very little, 5% moved from England to Scotland but there are many reports of increased Scottishness appearing in people’s estimates. See here for my take on ethnicity estimates.

On the subject of Scotland, I still haven’t added any ‘born in Scotland’ ancestors to my tree. It looks likely but I am waiting for more supporting evidence. Really exciting news though. After more than forty years of searching, I have found that my great great grandparents did get married after all – sort of. In preparation for heading north, I reviewed my Northumbrian ancestry for the nth time. This branch is the one that gets stuck first. I am pretty sure who my 3x great grandparents are, I just need more evidence (a bit of a theme you’ll notice). For those who’d like all the details of this sorry search, I’ve written about it before. My great great grandparents, John Hogg and Elizabeth Pearson, were not married in the 1851 census and apparently married by the time their daughter was born in March 1854. Despite four decades of not finding the marriage, I am always optimistic so I tried again. This time though a glimmer of hope. Family Search led me to a notice in the Newcastle Chronicle recording a marriage of Mr John Hogg and Miss Elizabeth Pearson on the 13th April 1853. The names and date were right but was this my great great grandparents? They were not of the class to put a notice in the newspaper and they were in the Morpeth area not Newcastle. Finding the actual article was a challenge. It didn’t show up in a newspaper search on FindmyPast; I had to look for the individual newspaper and then find the page. The column was one of those in a margin, so distortion meant that it was not picked up by OCR. The snippet made it clear that this was the right couple as both were ‘of Espley’, a small Northumbrian hamlet where I knew they were living in 1854. Helpfully, it gave the place of marriage ‘Lamberton’. A quick google revealed that this was not the breakthrough I had been hoping for. Lamberton Toll was the location for Scottish irregular marriages; a less well-known Gretna Green. I suspect they travelled there because he was 23 years her senior, with children as old as his new wife and she had already had two illegitimate children. Perhaps that was why they put the notice in the paper,because they didn’t have an official certificate. It was an odd paper to choose though, why not pick a Morpeth paper, which was their nearest town? Some records of Lamberton Toll marriages do survive, sadly not for 1853 though, all that there is is an index. So there is my hope of confirming John’s father’s name gone (I was so hoping that it was Robert). The only faint chink in the brick wall is that John’s first marriage is also missing, was that another irregular marriage?

The moral of the story is don’t give up. At least I have a date and a place for the marriage if not the vital father’s name. The next post may come from the wilds of ancestral Northumberland, might just sneak in a quick trip to Lamberton!

Lamberton Toll

The Tale of Peter Pig-owner and should I buy a kilt?

There’s so much going on at the moment, of which more another time but for today a tale that shows you can still find something new, even after over forty years of family history research.

Yesterday I should have been giving my presentation ‘Madness and Melancholia: the mental health of our ancestors’ a final run through (incidentally still time to come along to this one if you cross my palm with £2.50) but my early morning email trawl dictated otherwise.

An email from My Heritage ‘You’ve got Record Matches’. Sorry My Heritage John Parr of Devon and Johann Jakob Parr are not the same person. Nor is Richard William Braund of Cornwall the one in Melbourne. Their third offering did catch my eye. An extract from a history of Alnwick, Northumberland, published in 1866, referring to Peter Eadington a miller. Now, lurking on my tree is 4 x great grandfather Peter Eadington, miller, not of Alnwick but of Norham, some thirty miles north on the Scottish border. I knew that Peter’s daughter lived in Alnwick after she was married but it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be an earlier family connection.

Although my DNA and tree have been uploaded to My Heritage, I don’t have a subscription so couldn’t look at the record but I found a free copy of the book online and could see that this was too late for my Peter Eadington. Nonetheless it set me thinking. about family connections with Alnwick. Firstly, my Peter Eadington was a bit of a lad. He was a miller in Norham between about 1788 and 1805, during which time he had six children by three different women. One, Alice, he appears to have been married to, although no marriage record has been found. His two eldest daughters were probably born within weeks of each other. His story, as was, is available here but now of course it needs updating.

So, the whole of yesterday was spent following this Bright Shiny Object, with some success. During the course of twelve hours’ research I found, amongst other things, that Peter, whose baptism and marriage still elude me, was sometimes called Patrick, as was his first cousin Peter/Patrick, who was also his brother in law. Ancestry tree owners have these two beautifully muddled and today’s task is to decide which of the two married Sarah Dodds. I am almost certain it is my Peter, in which case he lied about his age on his marriage bond, probably because he was nearly twenty years older than Sarah. Personally, I would have been a bit more worried about his chequered past but hey. Unfortunately, this makes him the right age for cousin Peter/Patrick. The will of his father, David, freely available on the North East Inheritance database, was key to all this but because it is not on Ancestry, it has been ignored and therefore the Peter/Patrick name change has not been picked up. Also key is a family gravestone in Alnwick cemetery. The great piece of luck is that all this came to light BEFORE I am due to stay just outside Alnwick. With the luck of 2020 it would have been after, although there is still time for a regional lockdown to sabotage the trip. The bad news is that there are nearly 600 gravestones in Alnwick cemetery – ah well at least we will be socially distanced.

I now know that he, or possibly cousin Peter (I need to check who was at which mill and what time) owned a boar that, when killed, weighed 52 stone. Thanks British Newspaper Library. The ubiquitous Ancestry trees claim Scottish ancestry for both of Peter’s parents. I still have to satisfy myself that this is correct. If it is, they will be my first direct ancestors born outside England, which is very exciting.

Beside this, last week’s discovery that my grandfather’s first cousin was an actor with the fingers of his right hand missing, who performed with Cary Grant, pales into insignificance. William Smith is, after all, a bit harder to trace. So don’t tell me your family history is ‘finished’ there is always more to uncover.

Now back to who married Sarah Dodds?

St. Michael's, Alnwick

St. Michael’s, Alnwick

Book Launches, Blogs, Being Online and Breaking Free

Sorry for the long silence. It isn’t that nothing much has been happening, rather that life has been hectic, mostly in a virtual way. Firstly I need to say that this blog has been listed in the top 100 Genealogy blogs site. So, thank you to the compilers for that. Do go and check out the other great blogs on that list.  I am at number 131, so not sure how that works (maybe it is a bit like the ‘100’ years’ war) but I am grateful for the mention, especially as I ramble on about things as well as genealogy. I also have no idea who moved North Devon to New Brunswick – it wan’t me.

I’ve been Zooming away across the globe, chatting family history to anyone who will listen, including a great session with my ‘down-under’ genealogy friends from Talking Family History and several sessions both as speaker and as host for Devon Family History Society, including a breaking down brick walls session for a bumper audience of close to 200. Bit of a shame therefore that my magic wand appeared to have gone awol but we did make some inroads into a few tricky genealogical problems. My own history interpreter sessions are being well received. These continue through to the end of the year and there’s plenty of opportunities to join in the fun, so do take a look what’s on the programme.

I’ve also left home, not once but twice. For someone who hadn’t even been for a walk or to a shop since mid-March, it did feel a bit odd. Two trips of 300 miles each way with the caravan, so effectively taking our own room, in order to sit at a social distance from the two twigs on my family tree. Definitely worth it though and it is surprising what fun you can have from the opposite ends of a garden.

On the book front, what I hope are the final edits on a school text book that I was commissioned to write are done. Now it is all systems go for the appearance of Sins as Red as Scarlet in 32 days’ time. I am expecting about 40 boxes of the same to be deposited on my driveway any day now. The troops are assembled read to lug them into the house. Where they are going once I get them in the house, is a logistical problem of mammoth proportions that is still to be resolved. I also have to make space for potential socially distanced visitors. Maybe we can use boxes of books as a barrier. People have been very kind and relieved me of copies of my other books in a last-ditch attempt to make more room but ………. .

I have been writing the talk for launch day – 29 August. You are welcome to come and join me as I describe the family, social and local history research that underpins Sins as Red as Scarlet. Here I am reading a few extracts on cover/title reveal day. To be in the virtual audience on 29 August, 2pm British Summer Time, you just need to contact me and a few days beforehand, I will let you have the link to the Zoom presentation. There is also an offer available for those who pre-order the book.

3d and Kindle

And there’s more. If all goes to plan, the audio book of Barefoot on the Cobbles produced by the awesome Circle of Spears Team will also be available from 29 August. Plenty of excitement here therefore although I now have to bite the bullet and try to remember how to upload the file for those who might want to order a Sins ebook, or to order from outside the UK. As usual, I issue a plea for those in the UK to order directly from me, my publisher or an independent book shop. Not only do you get a better quality book, rather than print on demand but it helps reduce my pile.

In other matters, I have discovered how difficult it is to  Zoom quiz when your other team members have Whats App and you don’t and despite living in the C17th, I am hazier about English Civil War battles than I should be. Fortunately, this did not feature in the above mentioned text book. I’d much rather concentrate on all the lovely social history than the political stuff.

Mostly about going Virtual – Isolation day 93

With all the awfulness that is going on at the moment, I am sure this should be a deep and meaningful commentary on current affairs. It isn’t. Not because I don’t feel strongly about things. Not because I don’t care. I am an historian. I should have something to say. Not least about what some claim is the erasing of our history. Indeed I do have thoughts and opinions, it is just that they are not yet fully formed and putting them into words requires more emotional energy that I have at the moment. So I am sorry if this seems a bit like I am burying my head in the sand and ignoring world events but just for now, I am retreating back into the everyday, whilst I process everything.

There haven’t been many posts lately because, to be honest, most things are just jogging along in much the same way as they have for the past few weeks. The weather has turned a bit and the garden has reached a plateau. Plenty of baby blue tits to watch but not much else to report. So far, the relaxing of lockdown restrictions has not made any difference to my life, so I remain here in my own little world, making contact online. I have been invited to do several online presentations and have attended a lovely school reunion and several Devon Family History Society meetings. I took part in Crediton Literary Festival, talking about Remember Then, which was fun and there is also a YouTube video of me, with a very croaky hay fever voice, reading from Barefoot on the Cobbles. I will be reading for Exeter Authors’ Coffee Time Sessions on Thursday at 12. I have decided to run my own series of family/social/local history lectures, as well as provide a four week continuation of the family history course that I ran for Crediton library. There are still spaces if anyone is interested in any of these.

Tomorrow is the cover/title reveal for novel #2; so anyone who has been waiting for more news will learn more of what it contains. I am attempting to read some extracts from the book at 11am via Facebook Live. That’s another whole new learning curve. Now to create my ‘set’, which so far involves some red material, a sprig of bay and a noose …….hmmmm.

Capture

A Post for VE Day – Isolation Day 56

As an historian I want to mark today. As a family historian, I want to think about members of my family who experienced the Second World War first-hand, both those who were members of the armed forces and those who stayed at home running essential services, or bringing up children alone, often in fear and poverty. I am happy to mark today as the anniversary of the day that hostilities ceased in Europe. If I am honest, I am less comfortable with the whole ‘victory’ thing. It is a little like saying we are glad the enemy are dead. Much as I abhor Fascism in all its forms, I am very much aware that no one ‘side’ is wholly good or bad and the views of the ordinary soldiers, the ones who suffer, are frequently not those of their leaders. In war there are no winners.

So if you haven’t already un-followed me, here is my tribute to the members of my family who endured the Second World War.

My family is tiny, of the male descendants of my great grandparents on all four sides, only my father and two uncles were of an age to serve in World War 2. In addition, one of my grandfathers served in the Home Guard. My mother, who was twenty when the war ended, should in theory have been obliged to do some kind of war work. It has never been entirely clear to me why she didn’t. She worked as a book-keeper but I am not sure how that might have been considered to be essential. Perhaps she had some secret task that I am unaware of but I think that’s unlikely. Maybe, although she was liable for call-up from February 1944, the call never came. The only other female descendant of my great-grandparents to be of an age to serve, was my mum’s cousin Olive and she was in uniform.

My father, Cyril Albany Braund, was a cinema projectionist in peacetime. Cinemas were closed for the first fortnight of the war, in an attempt to prevent crowds gathering in public places but were re-opened as a boost to morale and a way of spreading edited news. With the extension of the call-up in May 1940, Cyril joined the Royal Air Force Reserve on 4 July, together with his close friend Eric (John) Golding. Cyril was now Gunner 1351715. By February 1941, Cyril was on a gunnery course on the Isle of Man, with the RAF Regiment. This was followed by a spell guarding airfields in Coventry. Initially attached to 2785 Squadron, early in 1943, Cyril was a member of 2731 Squadron at Docking in Norfolk. On the 5th of May that year, the squadron moved to Langham Regimental Training School. The next month saw periods spent in Great Sampford, Essex and at Catfoss in Yorkshire.

By the June of 1943 Cyril was with 2859 Squadron, which appears to have been newly formed, perhaps in the May. On 1 July, he was on board the troopship Francinia in the Clyde, about to embark for the Mediterranean. They docked first at Algiers and then in Malta. The convoy was attacked whilst in Malta but sustained no damage. They then proceeded to Sicily, where they were based at San Francesco airfield and were soon to come under fire once again. 2859 Squadron had a concert party and it is almost certain that Cyril, being a keen singer and pianist, would have participated. The climate began to take its toll and it was not long before malaria was diagnosed amongst the men. Cyril is known to have suffered from malaria but we don’t know when he was first taken ill.

In September 1943, the squadron moved to Falcone and it was there that they received the news of Italy’s capitulation. The concert party were still performing and were now calling themselves the Flak-Astras. After two weeks at Falcone, the squadron was moved to mainland Italy and arrived in Foggia in October. It was here that malaria claimed its first life amongst the squadron. After a five day journey, the squadron took up residence in Capodichino, Naples. Its role was to guard the airfields in the area. In May 1944 the squadron boarded the HMT Orontes at Naples and disembarked at Greenock. They then took the train to Sutton Bridge in Lincolnshire.

On 19 July 1944, Cyril was admitted to Queen Victoria’s Hospital in Herne Bay, Kent, before being transferred to the Municipal Hospital in Canterbury, where he spent three weeks, almost certainly suffering from malaria. By the time he rejoined his squadron, they were at Sibson in Cambridgeshire.

By the spring of 1945, with the end of the war in sight, Cyril was one of 34 other ranks and 3 SNCOs who were transferred to the army. His discharge document describes him as being ‘of very good character with a satisfactory degree of trade proficiency’. The following day, Cyril reported to Personnel Transit Station, Weeton, Preston in Lancashire for service in the territorial army. At interview the PSO observed, ‘Above average intelligence, bright, pleasant and alert. Has quite good ability all round and is keen to do well in the army. Should prove capable’. Cyril’s application form stated that he had a provisional driving license, that his sporting activities included football, cricket, swimming and a little boxing and that his hobby was sketching.

Cyril became part of the Royal Army Service Corps battalion of the Wiltshire Regiment with a new service number, 14005098, and began gunnery training at Warminster, Wiltshire, where he met my mother, who was visiting her cousin Olive, who was also stationed at Warminster. Cyril then spent a month on a senior NCO’s training course before being sent to Bally Edmond, Rostrevor, County Down, Ireland as a gunnery instructor. His regular letters to my mother survive for this period, much of which seems to have been spent peeling potatoes and singing in a choir.

Once the war was over, Cyril remained in the army, as a sergeant with the Department of National Service Entertainment, working with ENSA, resuming his civilian trade as a cinema projectionist. He returned to Naples and helped to set up a cinema at Pomigliano. He was stationed at Lammie Camp during the early part of 1946, working as chief projectionist at the Odeon Cinema in Naples. He was formally transferred to the army reserve on 23 August 1946, with effect from 6 November. His reference reads ‘This NCO has proved himself a capable worker and [has] given consistently good service in the Cinema Division. He is a qualified projectionist and is keen hardworking and reliable. An efficient and valued NCO.’

A photograph survives of Cyril’s brother Leonard in uniform but I know nothing about his service. The third brother, Stan, worked on the railways with their father, so he was in a reserved occupation and he served with the Home Guard. My grandfather Albany Braund was also in the Home Guard. He never claimed the medal to which he was entitled. I was able to do so on his behalf after he died.

Top: Albany Braund and his medal. Cyril’s Service Book

Middle: Stan on the left and Leonard on the right

Bottom: Cyril and his medals

Books, Games and 34 years of Family History Teaching – Isolation Day 42

So, in the week when we saw the leader of the free world advocate drinking bleach (here is a tip – don’t) what has been going on in the bottom left hand corner of England? The days roll on but today, after two years and 80,691 words, I think I might just have ‘finished’ novel number two. Of course, ‘finished’ doesn’t actually mean finished at all. Now comes all the hard work of editing, tweaking, lurching between being quite pleased with it and thinking it is all total rubbish. It is a sense of achievement nonetheless. I have also seen the first rough ideas for the cover, which is very exciting. I will now reveal that the sub-plot involves a character undertaking genealogical research. I was heard to say that there probably wouldn’t be a novel three but I have just bought a book that might help with a germ of an idea.

I have been updating my beginners’ family history course, ready for presenting it online to a full group, organised by Crediton Library in May, which is apparently Family History Month. I am still struggling with days of the week. Please don’t expect me to remember month names, let alone special designations for those months. It was a bit of a shock to realise that I taught my first family history course thirty four years ago. Techniques and methods of accessing records have changed beyond all recognition since then. The sources and the excitement are unchanged however. My early courses were illustrated with large posters and overhead projector acetates. I advocated, purchasing International Reply Coupons (remember those) and wearing skirts in case you offended an elderly relative that you were interviewing (that was the women of course). Now I am that elderly relative! Online databases and DNA tests were the stuff of science fiction. I am not convinced that it has all been change for the better. I miss the meticulous research that has, in all too many cases, been replaced with a grab it all quick and never mind checking to see if it is plausible, let alone true, attitude. Of course, many modern researcher are scrupulous about verifying the evidence and citing sources and long may that continue. In comparison to those days in the 1980s, so much can be done from the comfort of home and with luck, reasonable trees can be built in months not decades.

On the family front, we have tried playing Monopoly online. It was not an unqualified success. To begin with, neither party had traditional Monopoly. Well I had a traditional board but couldn’t find the corresponding cards and money. So I was using the deluxe version, with renamed streets and allowances for inflation and my opponents had a superheroes Monopoly. ‘I’ve bought Thor’. ‘Where’s that?’ ‘Regent Street.’ ‘I don’t have a Regent Street’. ‘Third green one along’. It was a laugh a minute and I was swiftly bankrupted.

The garden has come on apace. We now have a fully re-instated path, well the weed inhibitor is laid but we will have to wait until replacement chippings are available. We have recycled as many old chippings as possible but the new path is longer than the old path and many of the original chippings have long since disappeared.

DSCF0533

I am gearing myself up for tomorrow’s #twopointsixchallenge when, in lieu of a marathon that I was never going to run, I will be doing a 26 minute workout, 26 minutes of gardening and offer 26 people the opportunity to have 2.6 hours of genealogical research in return for a donation to my chosen charity. I have not yet reached 26 takers for this so there is still time – I will give you until midnight my time on 26 April.

Stay safe – until next time.

My Own Take on the Marathon #TwoPointSixChallenge

Even with my daily dose of Joe Wicks, I shall never run the London Marathon (other marathons are also inaccessible). Many charities rely on donations from those taking part in the London Marathon, which was scheduled for 26 April but cannot now take place. In order to compensate for the loss of funds, a number of people are taking up ‘at home’ physical challenges and are seeking donations. A number of possible challenges are suggested. I can now manage a 26 minute workout without too many ill effects (thanks again Joe) and I’ll add on 26 minutes of gardening.

The idea is that the challenge should be something energetic but I thought I’d play to my strengths. Therefore I will also offer 2.6 hours of free British genealogical research (or provide a 2.6 hour consultation) for each of the first 26 people who donate to this charity and contact me before the 26th April 2020 with proof of their donation. I am not specifying the size of the donation but it would be nice if it had a 2 and a 6 in it! Bear in mind though that this is nearly 70 hours of work if 26 people respond and may take me months to do all 26. This is of course limited to what I can do from home.

The charity I have chosen is The Calvert Trust Exmoor. This is a small Devon charity who provide adventure activities and holidays for individuals and families with disabilities.

Here is Edward enjoying his time there last summer.

Calvert Trust (25)

Zooming About – Isolation Day 29

There has not been a post for a while because, let’s face it, one day is pretty much like another. Day whatever it is (29 apparently) of staying at home and I am beginning to wonder how I ever found time to go out. Thankfully, I am gradually finding that I am getting a few things done now but I do still have 52 things on my ‘before the end of April’ list (like that’s going to happen). Sadly, there are a few more that haven’t even made it to the list.

So, what have I been up to since we last met? I have joined in with the millions (literally) around the world who do daily PE with Joe Wicks. Not for me the namby-pamby seniors’ workouts, oh no, this is the full on half an hour school PE session. Yes, I am probably certifiable. I should explain that, although we do walk a fair bit on holiday, I am not really an exercise sort of a person. I have never been to a gym, or for a run [edit – I have been reminded that once a year for getting on for twenty years, I have indeed run 5k as part of Race for Life – for which I have done zero training] and my idea of a successful school PE lesson was to hide my kit sufficiently well to be told to tidy the PE store. After day three of the enthusiastic Joe I could barely move. I persevered. I can now grit my teeth, get to the end and not feel any adverse effects. I am treating this a bit like essential medicine. Genetics mean that I am already at higher than average risk were I to catch COVID-19, so I really do owe it to myself to try and put my slightly dodgy heart and my lungs in the best possible shape in case I do succumb. I do still feel like the whole thing is a bit of a penance though.

Zoom has taken over my life. There were several meetings last week, including chatting to nearly 100 genealogists, predominantly from Australia and New Zealand and writers’ group get togethers. Having climbed the Zoom learning curve, I have now arranged to take two sets of regular family/local history meetings online and organised a virtual two day one-name society reunion for May. I’ll let you know how it goes.

The garden has been duly attacked. Of the ancient seeds I planted a couple of weeks ago, only one sort has germinated. I now have a glut of woad. Hmm, that will come in useful if we are inside long enough to run out of clothes. Actually, outgrowing them is probably more likely, despite Joe. Some new flowers and veg seeds have also been planted. I don’t really have sufficient room but fingers crossed. The trees are coming into blossom and there are blue tits (one of whom thinks it is a woodpecker – long story) and sparrows in the nesting boxes. It is a positive aspect of being at home that I can see the garden at the nicest time of year.

DSCF0507

We had another family sock wearing meet up, lobsters .v. Amelia Earhart and the grandchildren have been showing me their Easter gifts. One of our number had to confess to not having his socks accessible but we managed to include him using the wonders of technology. It is surprisingly difficult to photograph your own feet – especially when they are hovering in front of a laptop.

The NHS clapping in our village gets louder each week. This week I broke out the replica C17th drum in order to join in.

Drum

The piano is progressing, the Cornish not so much. I have very very very nearly finished novel number two. I estimate there will be about another 2000 words to go. Then for the edits. Today’s clue is that it includes the (true) story of an errant clergyman with a chequered past.

Happy Easter!

Pruning the Family Tree and other adventures – Day 19

I, like many others in these strange times, am finding it difficult to concentrate, least of all on what I should be doing. After a couple of totally unproductive days. I revisited a branch of my family tree that has been virtually untouched for over forty years. Before you scoff, bear in mind how difficult research was then. No digital images, no indexes, just trawling through page after page of original parish registers in archives. In fact, much of this was done by another trusted researcher. It is only now that I have got around to going over the earlier generations and verifying the information. Or in this case not verifying it. I come from a long line of Bishops. Not actual bishops you understand but people with the surname Bishop. This included four successive generations of chaps called Christopher.

It seems that the original researcher was pretty hot on baptisms and marriages. She also spent ages doing in-depth research in churchwardens’ and overseers’ accounts in which they feature, all good stuff. What she failed to do was to attempt to kill these guys off. First, I discover that the lady who held the distinction of being 9x great granny, Annes (or Agnes) Maddick, died before alleged 8x great granddad was born. Cue the substitution of Jane Thorne, second wife of 9x great granddad Christopher Bishop I, in the role of 9x great granny. Oh hang on, here was a burial of a Christopher Bishop just two weeks after the supposed baptism of 8x great granddad Christopher Bishop II. Clearly ‘my’ Christopher Bishop, who married Mary Bowman and went on to have yet another Christopher (lacking in imagination these Bishops), was not only not the son of Christopher and Annes but not the son of Christopher and Jane either. In the absence of probate material for Devon, I doubt if I will ever be able to be conclusive about my 9x great-grandparents on this line but never mind, I’d rather have a shorter tree that was accurate.

I have also undertaken the biannual excavation of the flies’ graveyard that is the shelf round my conservatory where the ‘walls’ join the roof. This involves much precarious balancing on window sills and is not to be recommended. Said shelf contains many historic ornaments, all of which have to be taken down and wiped in order to remove the fly pooh. What is it about flies and conservatories? The warmth I suppose. I maintain that I leave the cobwebs there (and believe me there are plenty of those) for six months in order to catch the flies. Are you convinced?

After over a week of ‘block’, I have just written some more of novel number two. Still scheduled for launch in August, even if it can only be a virtual launch of a digital version at first. It is so nearly finished. Probably about 4000-5000 words left to write. Today’s clue. Although the characters in the modern strand inhabit a rather different version of 2020, there are references to COVID-19.

Oh and the Cornish? Still not got beyond dydh da I’m afraid but a helpful book arrived in the post today.

And a pretty sunrise from my bedroom window (December 2017), just because I can.

19 Dec 2017 1 (2)