Excited to learn that I am to speak on North Devon Emigrants at the Halstead Trust’s Exodus: Movement of the People conference in Leicestershire in September. Now to decide which example emigrants to choose. Cheered me up after a morning slogging through ‘S’ Enquire Within entries; unfortunately these include Scotland, Seamen and other lengthy topics. It is incredible how much has changed since the last, pre-internet, edition. Having become obsessed with the alphabetical motif I have decided to adopt it for an after dinner talk/Christmas entertainment that I appear to have been ‘volunteered’ for. A is for advent, Y is for Yule and all things in between. I may inflict this on my blog followers as a sort of advent calendar.

I am beginning to regret the decision to incorporate the burial registers from Buckland Brewer into our memorial inscriptions’ index. The registers have been transcribed but I felt I should check the transcription. Despite all my palaeographical practice with the High Admiralty documents, this is going to be tricky. The handwriting is not the problem, nor indeed is the Latin. The pages appear to have been chewed by rats, damaged by tempest or something similar. I may have to trust the transcription done in the 1930s, at least for the earliest entries.

Have now finished ‘B’ for my Family Historians’ Enquire Within edit. Just thought I would, for the uninitiated, share how good British History Online is. A treasury of national and local documents, many from the early modern period, that can be searched by surname or place name. So many sources, so little time.

I am also getting back to the Buckland Brewer Memorial Inscriptions indexing project. The full transcriptions are all done and we are indexing. Still haven’t braved storm and tempest to take the remaining photos but I will, I WILL. We also plan to incorporate the burial registers for a ‘buried in Buckland’ overview. Bit of an indexing fest all round really as I am about to start some Clovelly indexing and I am now whizzing my way through the C17th Court of High Admiralty documents – on a case relating to the misappropriation of a cargo of serges at the moment.

Also revisted my Dawson ancestors this week. Have finally confirmed that the ‘fact’ that  great great auntie Alice died in a fire in Whitstable is rubbish. I had several similar ‘facts’ on this branch, gleaned from years of discussions with my mother and great aunt, both of whom knew the individuals they were talking about. Apart from the mode of auntie Alice’s demise, other ‘facts’ that proved groundless include the name of her first husband (actually there was no first husband but the name I was given was also incorrect for the father of her illegitimate child). No, William Sadler’s, name was not William but Harold, Uncle William’s wife was Fannie, not Carrie and as for the surname for cousin May’s husband – no relation to the truth at all. All this depsite the labels in the family photo album that I had revelled in since early childhood. ‘Always label your family photographs’. Yes, but it would help if the labels were right!

Auntie Alice – who definitely didn’t burn to death – and Cousin May

Now for the Braund Society Christmas lunch today.

Well, I’ll get the advert over first. I am offering gift wrapped copies of my book Coffers, Clysters, Comfrey and Coifs (RRP £12.95), posted anywhere in the UK, for £13 – a great present idea for those history loving friends or family members. Overseas prices on request – contact me on historyinterpreter@hotmail.co.uk

My daytime sessions in the C17th are over for 2012. I now of course delude myself that I will get all those jobs done, that have remained undone since March. I have no basis on which to come to this conclusion but I guess I can hope. Yesterday, during a C17th session with thirteen year olds, I was asked, in all seriousness, if they had Facebook at the time of the Civil War. I explained the no electricity = no computers scenario but the enquirer clearly thought I was making this inconceivable idea up. Sad though that this young person had never spoken to his parents or grandparents about their childhoods.

After work I went off to vote, always an incongrous activity in C17th costume but important to exercise my democratic rights. People chained themselves to railings so I could be one of the 15% to turn out. Wonder what would happen if we adopted the Australian system of making voting compulsory?

Been adding a few more historical quotes to pages of my website, gleaned from yesterday’s school visit. Can you spot them?

As anticipated, my own contribution to Instruments of Death ended up on the cutting room floor but my three colleagues feature – an interesting series.

Now which of the 18 things on my ‘to do’ list to tackle first?

A real variety this time. Excited to announce that I am being given the opportunity to contribute to the editing of a long awaited new edition of that family history classic Enquire Within. This was first produced by Fred Markwell and Pauline Saul and always featured highly on my family history students’ list of ‘musts haves’. At the moment I am fixated on the ‘G’ entries – from gavelkind and Genuki to gypsies. I am not working alphabetically and no, I couldn’t resist the temptation to start with X Y and Z – three letters of the alphabet done already you see!

Bit of a diversion when the British Newspapers came online via Find My Past. Am now working my way through 38163 Braund entries. We are obviously a very newsworthy family. Also distracted by Ancestry releasing World War One records free for Remembrance Day. Downloaded 59 pages worth for my grandfather, Frederick Herbert Smith. Nothing very exciting, in one respect. His Bii health rating means he was trained as a gunner but seems to have spent his time pen pushing in England. It did solve the mystery of the address of one of his former homes though. From the address on the records I was able to go to Google Street View and find that the current house was recognisable from a photo that I have, taken in about 1900. Also surprised to find that he gave the address of his future wife as his own, some four years before they married. Now I don’t know if the lodger became the boyfriend or vice versa.

Frederick Herbert Smith

Really getting into the Marine Lives transcribing now. Currently, I am embroiled in the adventures of the Endeavour in 1655, when the barbarous French made off with 113 pipes of Canary Wine that they had on board.

This week I had been booked to give a talk at a local history society. As the evening approached, I became less and less confident that the topic they had chosen was suitable for that particular audience. I therefore risked giving them the premiere of my talk on C17th witchcraft instead. It seemed to go well and I look forward to repeating it next week.

Excited to learn that Gregg Wallace is to be of the celebrities at this year’s Who Do You Think You Are? Live a little less excited to discover that my application to be a speaker again this year got lost in the ether, so I wasn’t considered. I just hope that my service provider (who swear this losing of e.mails is not possible – depite it happening with unfailing regularity) know that I have access to swords and muskets. Talking of swords and muskets – looking forward to the episode of Instruments of Death, to which I contributed, being screened on Yesterday Channel tonight.

To cheer myself up after the Who Do You Think You Are? disappointment, I decided to spend the earnings from the job I mustn’t mention on a trip to Lapland – as you do. Now off to discover exactly where Lapland is.

An enjoyable day last week at the annual conference of Cornwall Family History Society. Then back to croak my way through a ‘between courses’ dinner talk. Fortunately  this was in short segments and I was ably assisted by Master Christopher (barber surgeon to the desperate) so my voice just about held out, if it did sound a little painful. Anyway, being told about gory medical procedures didn’t seem to put people off their meal.

The voice gradually improved throughout a week in the C17th, although the outdoor session struggling with a large group of French teenagers and a howling gale required Master Christopher to come to my rescue.

We’ve now heard that Instruments of Death will be screened on the Yesterday Channel on 12th November and then repeated twelve times in the few days afterwards. I would say this was overkill but it might be taken as a pun. The episode that I was involved in was centered around the English Civil War, its weapons and the medical techniques available for the treatment of any resulting wounds. I probably won’t appear myself (even if I’m being generous mine was a cameo appearance) but my colleagues will. This is episode one of what should be an interesting series.

More transcriptions of High Admiralty documents for the Marine Lives Project this week. I am getting into the swing of these now and it is an exciting project. If you are interested in C17th maritime history take a look.

Yesterday was the second of my one day Writing up your Family History courses. I was very pleased with how it went and was amazed that students came from Cornwall, Somerset, Berkshire and Hampshire! What a great bunch, all hopefully now motivated to put their family story into some kind of permanent form. Been a good week for sales Coffers, Clysters, Comfrey and Coifs – am planning to market it as a Christmas present suggestion – oh dear, Christmas catalogues come out in June, maybe I’ve missed the boat.

Very excited to learn that my new status as leader of the North Devon Group of Devon Family History Society entitles me to wear an official polo shirt – shame it won’t be available in time for today’s meeting in Exeter, which is to be followed by a meeting of Devon members of The Guild of One Name Studies.

Well it is official, I have the plague – or more strictly a throat infection. Whilst some of my acquaintance are enjoying the peace and quiet it has made working impossible, so I am off sick for the first time in thirty years. I am very annoyed to be missing the fun but I have to admit that miming what not to wear in the C17th isn’t awfully effective. I know I should be able to solve this, probably with lemon balm and echinacea but at present I am on proprietary medicines; can one overdose on Strepsils?

I have been putting the finishing touches to my C17th witchcraft talk – due for its premiere next month at the North Devon branch of Devon Family History Society. I am fascinated by this topic. Partly because three of the last (or possibly the last depending on who you believe) witches to be hanged in England came from Bideford, my nearest town. Witch fever also has resonances with modern day bullying culture and mass hysteria. It was very interesting to watch Channel 4’s programme about an American town where a number of teenaged girls have developed Tourette’s like symptoms. Was I alone in screaming (silently due to the lack of voice) ‘erogtism’ at the screen?

As part of the talk I have been looking at Devon witches, not just those from Bideford. I normally begin my C17th talks by encouraging my audience to think of their own C17th ancestors, named or unnamed. Up on the screen go the three couples amongst my own C17th ancestors who I can name. These include Peter and Katherine Elford of Mary Tavy, Devon. When I get to the list of those indicted in Devon for witchcraft in the C17th who do I find but Johanna Elford. Is it, could it be? Peter had a sister called Johanna………..

Other news is that I am now leader of the North Devon Group of Devon Family History Society. This is a great honour and we are working on planning the Summer Conference for next year. Two excellent speakers booked already and a novel theme – under wraps at present. I croaked my way through a discussion on the form that Clovelly Archive Association‘s database might take. This promises to be innovative and exciting with applications for other One Place Studies and Local History Societies. Then it was back to the memorial inscriptions indexing for my own parish and investigating possible chancel liability for the PCC; a bit different this last. Today I work on regaining my voice, wait for a series of bastardy examinations to arrive in the post and some healing herbs work. Never let it be said that my life isn’t varied.

Today I was schueduled for 3 x 45 minute sessions with 6 and 7 year olds, talking about healing herbs. Not only is this not the best time of year for gathering herbs but it is a bit tricky to make this more than ‘here is a plant’, ‘here is another plant’. So the children have imaginary diseases and I cure them, they grind seeds, they smell herbs and they get green and sticky rubbing soap wort in their hands.

A child comes in from break for the start of the session with her arms held out straight in front of her. ‘Are you drying your hands?’ I ask. Not a random assumption as they’ve all just been asked to go to the toilet on the way in. She looks me up and down scathingly. ‘No’, she says. ‘I am a zombie’. Well, silly me, I clearly should have known.

This age group are great, they are never quite sure if I am really from the seventeenth century or not (I am of course) and we get the occasional Santa Claus moment. The answers to the questions are great too. Me: ‘What do you need to do when you’ve had lots to drink?’ (I am trying to illicit the repsonse ‘wee’ here – nothing goes down so well as wee and poo with year 2). Child: ‘You wash up your cup.’

One child, almost certainly on the autistic spectrum, knows plenty about the uses of herbs, can name most of my examples and is coming up with some really intelligent answers. Bless him though, when I explain the Ladies Mantle (useful for holding wrinkles at bay) and say I’ve been using it for 350 years and it isn’t working yet, he says ernestly ‘yes it is I can see!’ Hurrah – made my day.

Twenty six 7-9 year olds in front of us to learn about daily life in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Amongst other things, we dress them up, give them toys to play with and set them to work with my recently acquired hand butter churn. Of course it is the wrong time of year to make butter; the seventeenth century housewife made butter in the spring but we want the children to have an idea just how much hard work this was. As they start their lunch we leave them with the churn to plunge away with in shifts. We do have full cream milk – no hope without but wonder if we should have gone for super extra creamy milk to give them half a chance. The children stalwartly thud up and down with the hand churn for nearly 2 hours. The milk has gone decidedly yellow and there are signs of little solid flecks in it. I wonder if this may consititute slave labour so I take over whilst my colleague puts out the Great Fire of London again. Yes, as I rinse the churn out after the children have left, there is definitely something solid in there. It’s very small but it is there. I am very excited by this. Even after my short stint my arm is aching and I shall probably never play the violin again (not that I could in the first place). This is the way to begin to appreciate the sheer physical effort required for the daily tasks of our ancestors.

It has been a busy few days since we returned from the frozen north. Inevitably there was the post holiday mound of e.mails and post to wade through. These contained several requests for talks and some Braund one-name study queries. A lovely review of Coffers, Clysters in the latest Cornwall Family History Society Journal too. Then some exciting ideas for the Clovelly Archive database/website and plans for a winter indexing project. Next I spend a day inspiring some lovely people to create their own family’s story in some kind of permanent form. I struggle to do my quota of transcribing of C17th Admiralty documents for the Marine Lives Project. The latest lot are about whaling.

Today, back to the real work in the seventeenth century and we get up at silly o’clock to take the delights of the Civil War to a not very nearby school. Vehicle loaded, three passengers in full C17th rig, a couple of miles up the road and we get a puncture. Simple, some of us at least know how to change a tyre. What we don’t know is where in this fairly new to us car to find the jack. Will we have to empty armour, wooden buckets and clyster syringes out on to the road? It is still dark, raining and we are on a bend approaching the crest of a hill, this could be somewhat of a hazard. It turns out that we don’t have a jack. We contemplate using the C17th head crusher instead (every car should have one). We decide to go for the AA option. Strangely the substitute AA man, when he arrives, blinks not an eye-lid to find our driver dressed in knee high boots and breeches. I do think the high-viz jacket set them off well though. It seems the spare wheel is the wrong sort and it is difficult to tighten the nuts. Not wishing to see our back wheel rolling down a hill, we take advice and return to a garage. Sadly, this means we have to postpone our school booking as we are already nearly two hours late. There’s a bit of an issue while we wonder if we actually have any money on us – will they take groats?

The is the coldest day yet and we have to deice the car before our 288 mile drive back down the Great North Road, except in our case it will be the Great South Road. We leave before the site office is open so I am instructed to chalk our now vacant pitch number on a blackboard provided for the purpose. Blackboard fine, chalk the size of a pea, more difficult but I manage, despite the gloves. All the time we have been on this site we have seen and heard large skeins of geese, who apparently live on the nearby former gravel pit. On other sites we have been ‘entertained’ by cockerels and peacocks, here it has been geese. One flies past very low as we leave, as if to say goodbye. We need yet more fuel and decide to leave the main road at Newcastle to try and obtain some at cheaper than services prices. Our map tells us that there is a Morrisons here but the Sat Nav fails to recognise the road so we are guessing. I spot a large M on a road sign, it is yellow and black, Morrisons’  colours and in the same font as Morrisons’ signs so we follow these only to find that it also stands for Metro. Fortunately the Metro is close to Tescos so we are fine. The Angel of the North looms on the horizon, unfortunately we cannot stop on this road so I try taking pictures first through the windscreen and then by letting in a lot of cold air, leaning precariously out the open window and turning round backwards as we speed past.

The Angel of the North

The Sat Nav does have a few funny turns as we take her down roads she thinks are fields. ‘Turning around where possible’ is probably not an option on the A1(M). The caravan limits us to a maximum of sixty mph so it is nearly seven hours before we arrive back at Tewkesbury. The annual mop fair is being held. Sadly this doesn’t seem to pay any lip service to the historic hiring fair that it would once have been. Now it is an excuse for an oversized fun-fair creating a diversion in the town. We do however get to the camp site on time this time. The site has been flooded in our absence so is a little on the spongy side but we settle in for the last night of our holiday. The following morning it is home from Tewkesbury – now for catching up with all the work that hasn’t been done over the last three weeks.