Having just returned from London via Cambridge I have two days at home during which I field the aftermath of Who Do You Think You Are? Live. I have to respond to a Twitter storm following my talks and books launches. I have been added to the pool of lecturers for the Unlock the Past Cruises, there are articles to write and I have more volunteers to add to my pool for the 1946-1969 memories project.

Then a sad journey to the Isle of Wight for a friend’s funeral. As we travel across the Somerset levels there is a strange light in the sky. It resembles a truncated rainbow with a greenish tinge. It turns out that this is the aurora borealis. Having travelled to Lapland and missed it there, here it is not a hundred miles from home. We stop for sustenance. The restaurant is almost empty. Without a hint of sarcasm the maitre de says ‘I will see if we can find room for you’. Next morning we arrive very early for the ferry to the island. So early in fact that we get on the one that leaves nearly two hours before our intended sailing. This is the ferry beloved of large lorries. In the interests of fuel economy we are driving my very tiny car, which is dwarfed by surrounding vehicles. As we drive on to the ferry the news comes that my awaited grandson may be putting in an early appearance. So in the paradox that is the circle of life I find myself saying goodbye to a friend as my daughter is in labour.

The exciting news of Edward Leo’s arrival reaches us by evening. So whilst fireworks announced Lucy’s arrival, Edward’s was heralded by the aurora. We make it back home from the island at 1.30am. For someone who almost never sees 11pm this is a big deal in itself. Nine hours and several messages to workmen later, we are heading north to meet the latest addition to the family. He is of course completely gorgeous and I spend a lovely couple of days getting to know him. An added bonus is when his auntie, uncle and cousin come visiting and I get the chance to cuddle two grandchildren at once!

And the building works? Pales into insignificance really. There was the occasion when I had four different sets of workmen in the house at the same time. Four men plastering various walls, the house painting man, the Rayburn fixing man and the plumber removing what used to be an outside tap but which was now in the conservatory. Weird one this – removed at the request of the plasterer so he could plasterboard over it and make a nice flat wall. Having organised this, said plasterer needs access to water so he can plaster whilst I am out. ‘Do I have an outside tap?’ Well, I did have an outside tap. Unfortunately one of the various workmen here while I was away meeting Edward inadvertently (at least I hope it was inadvertently) turned the freezer off. Now the conservatory is almost complete I have to run the gauntlet af kitchen fitters. One day I shall get my house back and I promise we shall get back to historical posts soon!

Miraculously, the television that failed to function yesterday is now working. This seems to be because we have turned the aerial off – ours not to reason why. We set off for our first day at Who Do You Think You Are? Live. I cannot believe that I have neglected to bring any gloves for the long walk from caravan site to station. I wear gloves nine months of the year, what can I have been thinking? I am attempting to look vaguely smart, always an effort, so am sporting a new velvet jacket (once a child of the seventies…..). The downside of this is that I can’t carry the heavy lap top or bag over my shoulder without ruining the jacket. It appears that our trolley full of boxes of books will fit through the automatic barrier. Appearances can be deceptive and we get stuck with an alarm sounding. The trolley full of book boxes does not go down well with our fellow travellers either – well it is a commuter train. Disconcertingly the scrolling information in the train reads ‘we are now approaching Crystal Palace’ for the entire journey. Well, I hope not as we have just come from there. Ah this appears to be not Crystal Palace but Clapham Junction. We are warned of the VERY big gap between the platform and the train. They are not wrong. My partner in crime manfully hauls the book laden trolley across the gap. I can see that I am going to have some serious grovelling to do in gratitude.

Once at Olympia we catch up with friends. Very excited to see Putting Your Ancestors in their Place in print for the first time. I spend a couple of hours in the speed-dating scenario that is the ‘expert’s’ table area. The venue is about fifteen degrees warmer than it was last year; pity I have dressed for last year’s temperature. I hover outside the Celebrity Studio in good time for my presentation; that would be in VERY good time. I am following the keynote slot. The Celebrity Studio is only half full for that session so I am not expecting much of an audience for my own. Far from the crowd thinning as I expected more and more people pour in until there are very few empty seats. This may be because half the audience are desperate for somewhere to sit, undaunted I deliver my A to Z of sources presentation to the assembled throng. Speaking from the Celebrity Stage seems to involve staring into very bright spotlights. I am still wondering quite what I am doing in this arena – I am sure it is a mistake. Nonetheless I was pleased with the reception and there were some embarrassingly effusive comments afterwards – what lovely people. They even bought a box and a half worth of books – even better. Chris bravely juggled books, change and handouts whilst I devalued people’s purchases by signing them.

Then time for the home journey. Even on the platform people are approaching me to say how much they enjoyed my talk. Regular readers may remember that last year there was an incident when the wheel fell off the book carrying trolley. As we alight at Clapham Junction I notice that the trolley again has only one wheel. Even I know that this is one too few. Spectacularly, this time not only has the wheel fallen off but it has found its way on to the railway track. An obliging member of staff stops oncoming trains whilst he fetches a ‘picker’ to retrieve our wheel. The crowds on the platform opposite are hugely entertained by the proceedings. Now to affix the wheel back on to the trolley. Last year I conveniently had a nappy pin about my person (best not to ask), not so this time. We scour the station for a suitable metal spike like object in vain. Transport for London have done a great job on litter collection. So good in fact that there is nothing lying around that we could utilise. We somehow manage to keep the wheel in place without the aid of a split pin substitute and board our second train. Chris is eyeing up the fellow passengers to see if any look like they may have a handy spilt pin, or something that could be used as such, about their person. A lady with earrings that are adorned with large metal spikes is attracting his attention. We reach Gypsy Hill. Clearly the whole world lives at Gypsy Hill as the train empties rapidly. A final departing passenger has her hair restrained by hair grips. Well she HAD her hair so restrained until Chris persuaded her to donate one to the cause. In the unlikely event that you are reading this Madam, you can probably dine out for months on the story of the strange people that you met on the train but thank you very much. Sadly the hair grip does not last long and the wheel is again at serious risk of imminent departure. We manage somehow to get to Crystal Palace with two wheels not exactly intact but at least not in danger of being flattened by a train. I elect to sit with our possessions while Chris goes for car. That would be fine except that there are no seats. Maybe no one has come up with something sufficiently vandal proof for the populous of Crystal Palace. Our reputation has obviously preceded us as the station is crawling with police. It seems they aren’t looking for people who rashly attempt to get wheel-less trolleys on trains. One individual is sporting a high-viz jacket with ‘Revenue Protection’ on the back. What ever they are expecting does not materialise whilst I am waiting for Chris to return with the car.

I return to find that the Twittersphere contains numerous references to Putting Your Ancestors in their Place – aren’t people great. A lovely day and tomorrow we do it all again – minus the trolley.

The excitement of setting off for Who Do You Think You Are? Live was delayed by waiting for the electrician to ‘first fix’ the conservatory. Odd term ‘first fix’, surely something is either fixed or it isn’t. He was due last Friday but the lack of a conservatory roof at that point made playing with electricity less than desirable, especially as the rain was still of biblical proportions at that point. Very shortly before last Friday I realised that in order to be ready for the electrician I should have purchased the necessary wall lights. No spare days for a trip to the shopping metropolis that is Barnstaple so I relied on online outlets. Plenty to choose from and I found some that I liked. In fact I liked them so much that I bought some to replace the wall lights in the living room as well. I suppose the clue was in the brand name ‘Massive’ really. I had thought that it was just that – a brand name – unfortunately it was a descriptor. It never occurred to me to look at dimensions, supposing there were any. I now have four seriously oversized wall lights. On the grounds that I can’t be bothered with the hassle of sending them back and finding something else I shall use them, even if it makes me feel like Alice in Wonderland after she’d drunk the shrinking potion.

Then the car journey to London. There is a vent in the car door that blows cold air on my knees regardless of any fan and heater settings. The equivalent vent on the driver’s side doesn’t appear to work (or malfunction) in this way. After several journeys I have now worked out a solution that involves wedging magazines in front of the vent. This is fine until you open the door BEFORE removing the magazines, which then fall out of the car into an inevitable puddle.

The Twitter-sphere informs me that there has been an earthquake at home. It is apparently the 5th strongest English earthquake of the twenty first century – not actually sure that that is much of a claim to fame. Typical though that things get exciting when I am not there. All I can say is that if my conservatory has been knocked down by the aftershocks someone will suffer!

We know we have arrived in London as eccentricity rules. Some of the inhabitants even make me seem normal. As we drive through Wandsworth (I think it is Wandsworth – looks pretty much the same as other London boroughs on our route) there is a man walking along with a paper bag on his head. It is one of those sturdy paper bags with a bottom and handles. He has cut eye holes but the bag is otherwise undecorated. If he is trying to be inconspicuous he has scored a major fail!

Ok so I can’t sit on this any longer. If you have memories of all or part of the years 1946-1969 I need you. In return I can encourage you to finally get around to recording part of your life story. Go on, you know your nearest and dearest have been nagging you to ‘write it down’. If you are amongst my family history friends, just think how pleased you would be if your ancestors had left an account of their lives – you can make sure your descendants are not left wondering about your own.

So get out the family photo album, ransack the loft for any memorabilia, start racking the brain, tell your friends and get ready to join in. Further details can be found here.

Just so I am the first to embarrass myself, here I am in the 1950s.

I am enjoying working my way through the Christmas book haul. Both my daughters provided me with hardbacks – always a health and safety issue as they fall on one’s nose when I doze off reading in bed. I have just finished the inspiring ‘The Girl on the Wall: one life’s rich tapestry’. I see it is also available in paperback or on Kindle, which would be less hazardous but might lack the illustrations, which are integral to the book. The author, Jean Baggott, born in the 1930s, constructed an elaborate tapestry illustrating memories of her own life and local and national events of the era. The book explains each image (there are more than 70). I do not have the skills or the eyesight (32 point canvas) for the sewing aspect but a wonderful framework in which to record recent family history. If you want to do likewise watch this space – I know I have said this before but I am nearly ready to explain more. Oh and while you are looking for Jean’s book on Amazon (I am NOT responsible if you can’t resist the ‘buy it now’ button) my latest publication is now there too – exciting. Also noticed that someone in Canada is trying to sell a copy of Coffers, Clysters for £60.15 – what fool would pay that when you can get new copies for £12.95?
In the days since my last post the building work has continued, if not exactly ‘apace’ at least with some progress between bouts of torrential rain. What will one day be the conservatory is currently masquerading as a swimming pool. I still lack a letter box but in theory I have said goodbye to the builders and now have to wait until next week for a different set of workmen to begin to put the glass panels in place.
Waking up at some silly hour recently I encountered a children’s TV programme called History Hunt. The approach adopted in this programme was particularly appealing. Great to watch young people engaging in research and combining this with technology. Check it out. We may be adopting a similar format as we begin to work with the local school on local history projects.
I was showing a young friend how to find a birth in the General Register Office indexes using Find My Past. Imagine my surprise, as I used my daughter as an example, at finding that her name had been indexed incorrectly. Correction has now duly been sent in.