I am now seven lessons in and I have got to be honest, I have got further than I ever thought I would, especially in so short a time. I expect the rest of the class just rock up every Wednesday and forget about it in between but I have to slog away daily to keep, well not exactly up but in order not to totally lose the plot. I have absorbed a fair bit of vocabulary, maybe five hundred words or so but I am struggling to put the words together into sentences in any meaningful way and I can’t yet see any logic to the grammar, perhaps there isn’t any.
I am interested in how I am learning. I am definitely relying on visual memory and I have to see the words written down in handwriting and picture these in my head. There’s a fair bit of word association going on. I did go back to the audio lesson and I got about ten minutes in before getting totally lost. Progress from three minutes I suppose.
I am looking forward to the end of the term so that I can consolidate what I’ve learned so far. It will be a relief not to be bombarded with new vocabulary each week.
I even managed to purchase some Cornish stout to add to the Christmas pudding. The stout is always a challenge as you only need a little but then in order not to waste it I feel obliged to quaff the remainder. As I rarely drink, this is sometimes entertaining. In case you are wondering, I have no idea how to translate the brand name, possibly something to do with jets.
It has been a while since my last post but I have not been idle. Buckland Brewer History Group published a book last month and I’ve been frantically wrapping and posting, watching the pile in my kitchen diminish as orders come in from hither and yon. This was a joint project, involving contributions from fifty people and we are very proud of it.
I’ve been really knuckling down to my writing project and now have nearly half the chapters completed, with several others well on their way. I don’t want to give too much away but let’s just say, in line with many of my talks, this book does concentrate in the grittier side of life. It has led me to some wonderful online sources. Following an excellent talk about the Temple Lodge Home for Inebriate Women that was given to Devon Family History Society by Liz Craig this week, I decided it was time to tackle the scheduled chapter on the inebriate. Liz had pointed us to The Birmingham Black Books, what a treasure trove. This is a record of ‘habitual drunkards’, complete with photographs, who were identified in the early years of the twentieth century. The book was issued to local publicans so that they would not serve those who were included. My work-in-progress book includes a series of case studies and I have spent most of this week following the life of one of those black-listers, Sarah Grosvenor, who chalked up over 200 drunk and disorderly charges. I am really frustrated that I can’t identify her during the first forty years of her life as I feel that might shed some light on why she ended up on this path.
There have been exciting family history discoveries of my own too. Access to the 1921 census as part of my FindmyPast subscription means I have been following up the extended family and I have discovered another relative who spent time in a mental hospital, then known as an asylum. I have been able to access the case books and – cue really exciting bit – letters survive between the sister on the patient and the institution. I am able to have copies of these letters, which I hope a lovely researcher will get for me next month – watch this space.
I have also revisited the family history of the fisherman of my acquaintance, looking at a branch that hadn’t been examined for several years. Newly available records did reveal the need for a bit of tree surgery. The branch that was lopped off were his geographically further flung ancestors – they came from a parish seventy miles from where he was born. Now I have identified the correct Elizabeth Nicholls, every one of his direct ancestors, on all lines, was baptised within fifteen miles of where he was born. Is this some kind of record? I also managed to crack a persist brick wall finding, that his 3x great-grandfather invented a surname. You can’t fool me Robert, I know who you really were.
The Cornish Adventure continues – more of that in a post of its own soon. Most of yesterday was spent biting the Mastodon bullet. As people seem to be deserting Twitter in droves, I’ve joined others in the genealogical community who have set up accounts on this social media platform that pretty much no one had heard of three weeks ago. Here one Toots rather than Tweets and it proves that there are new learning curves to be mastered and that every day is a school day. You can find me on Mastodon here.
The other bandwagon on which I have jumped is the new app from MyHeritage, which using AI to turn you into a Viking, a Green Goddess, a Punk Rocker or even a cyborg. This is free to try for a limited period. I do have a few reservations about this, particularly regarding creating ones that lead you down the path of mis-appropriation of ethnic identity and then there is the whole issue of tampering with the evidence that is original photos. I do think it might be something that would be a way of interesting young people in the past, although there is a strict ban on using this with photographs of minors. So how does it work? ‘Upload 10-25 photographs of yourself’. Do I even have 10-25 photographs of myself that don’t go back decades? I managed to scrape together ten by dint of lopping off the other people in them. Then the weird and wonderful images were created. Some are decidedly odd and distorted, probably because I only uploaded the minimum number of photos. In some I look like the late Queen but others have said the same, perhaps this is a default. I leave you with (allegedly) me as a Celt, in the 1950s, the 1970s and the 1980s. I think the 1970s one is my favourite as that does actually look like me in the 1970s. I have spared you the cyborg.
Well, here we are, nearly three weeks and two lessons in. It took me about ten days to master seven words/phrases. Then there was a bit of an epiphany and suddenly more words began to stick. I do find it easier to remember nouns, rather than abstract concepts and phrases. I’ve got basic colours sorted. It is interesting that, despite Cornish being an ancient language, there are words for things like car, or hyperlink, that didn’t exist when Cornish was last spoken as a first language. Disclaimer – I have no idea what the Cornish for hyperlink is but it is in the dictionary. The Cornish for place names is also fascinating. For example, Falmouth becomes Aberfal, aber being ‘mouth’, as in Aberystwyth or Aberdeen.
Writing and reading, rather than listening seems to be the way to go. I am up to about sixty flash cards now and can cope with English to Cornish and Cornish to English. Simple sentences are harder. I can just about manage ‘the house is red’ (except you say ‘red is the house’), ‘the sea is blue’ and so on. All cool phrases but probably not hugely useful in the great scheme of things.
I am trying to crack the spelling by writing things out. Cornish is pretty consonant heavy and I have to remember that th is spelt dh and ch gh. I have been slightly confused by my recent few days being exposed to Welsh signage, to the extent that I started to think I was learning Welsh instead. There was however a proud moment when chatting to a National Trust guide about Welsh and Cornish, when he used a Welsh word for ‘splendid’ and I recognised it!
So, onwards and upwards. Next week is weather. Oh and I can now say duw genowgh.
After an uneventful journey, we arrived at the caravan site in Newport in beautiful autumn sunshine. We were just in time to explore neighbouring Tredegar House. I had even remembered my National Trust passport. Unfortunately, I had forgotten my membership card. By the magic of technology, I was located on the data base and we gained entry. There was only time for a quick look round this substantial seventeenth century house, home to the Morgan family. It was built on the site of a previous house by William Morgan, with the dowry received for his first wife and cousin Blanche. William’s second wife trued to murder him. The Morgans were substantial land owners
The estate’s downfall came in the 1920s when the then owner lived an extravagant lifestyle as a ‘Bright Young Thing’. He was also involved in the occult. During the Second World War he worked for M18 using carrier pigeons to bring information from Europe. Evan was court martialled for divulging the information to some Girl Guides. The house was sold as as school in 1951 and was acquire dby the council in 1974. It has been run by the National Trust since 2012
On a beautiful autumn day, we set off for St. Fagans. There was a slight issue paying to park as the instructions were in Welsh but English instructions were accessed and entrance to St. Fagans was free. We had been before but there have been many changes since. We began to explore the reconstructed houses, everything from an iron age round house to a pre-fab. The round house was particularly superior, consisting of two circular structures. Unfortunately, the guide was outside enjoying the sun so I could only photograph half of it. The circular pig sty was interesting, circular as pigs are more likely to escape from rectangular structures. There was a urinal, reminding patrons to adjust their clothing before leaving, several farmhouses, Pen-rhiw Unitarian Chapel and St Teilo’s Church with impressive reconstructed wall paintings. There was also a terrace of houses, each one decorated in a different period style. The civil war battle of St Fagans was the largest on Welsh soil and ended in a decisive victory for the Parliamentarians.
Before leaving Wales we popped back to Tredegar Gardens whose points of interest include a forty two foot long shovelboard in the orangery; allegedly the longest oak plank table in Britain.
I should never have mentioned learning Cornish. Quick as something quicker than a flash, Martha had found an online course through Exeter University, with the added bonus that as an alumni I got a discount. In a decidedly rash moment I enrolled.
Some background here. I am not daft. I will put it out there, because I need encouragement, that I managed to get a first class honours in the recently completed Experimental Archaeology post-grad certificate. So, despite advancing years, I can still learn something new. I’ve had books published, so I guess that make me reasonably literate. I enjoyed school and did fairly well, apart from PE. The only thing related to PE that I was any good at was ‘losing’ my PE kit. Oh, and languages; I was rubbish at languages. Latin gave me up after two years. I do have a French O level. It took me six years and two attempts to achieve this. I ended up with a middle level pass, mainly because grades were calculated on a curve of natural distribution and I resat with everyone else who had failed the first time. So basically I was slightly better than some other people who are no good at French. There’s no way that I would claim to be able to speak French. I can still remember some vocabulary. There was that incident while I was in French-speaking Canada when I correctly translated a road sign that said ‘Danger of…’. The trouble was I had no idea what the second part of the phrase meant (turned out it was deer). Basically, if there’s a word to describe an inability to learn languages other than one’s own, the equivalent of dyslexia or dyscalculia, that’s me. If there isn’t a word maybe there should be.
We have had one Cornish lesson so far. I am definitely the oldest in the group; most are twenty-somethings. ‘Let’s introduce ourselves and say why we want to learn Cornish’, says the tutor. The other introductions were along the lines of, ‘I am a professional translator’ and ‘I already speak (insert several other languages here)’. By this time, I am wondering if I do actually want to learn Cornish at all.
Anyway, we went through a few of the standard phrases you cover when you first start learning a language. ‘Hello, how are you, my name is ……’. Does anyone actually ever say ‘my name is’? Surely you just say ‘I’m’. So after an hour everyone is prattling away and I’m still on ‘Dydh da, fatala genes’ (and I’ve just had to check the spelling for that). I’ve not mastered ‘my name is’.
I’ve tried all the revision techniques I passed on to pupils when I was teaching. I’ve made some flash cards. I think I am up to seven phrases now. I can go from Cornish to English much more easily than the other way round. At the rate of one phrase/word a day I may be some time. I’ve listened to a recommended online course that relies purely on listening and repeating. There are strict instructions not to write anything down. After ten minutes of that I have confirmed that I do not learn by listening. I need to see things. It wasn’t helped because they didn’t start with the whole ‘Hello, my name is…’ thing but a load of different phrases none of which have stuck, despite the constant repetition. Arggh. It CANNOT be this hard. I know it is good for me to be challenged and probably good for me to find something that isn’t relatively easy but there are challenges and there is the impossible. I will persevere but don’t expect too much of me. I am supposed to know what goodbye is. I can manage nos da (goodnight). That’s going to be right for some of my international audience right?
I’m finally getting round to finishing the story of our trip to northern climes. There were lovely views as we crossed the county boundary to visit the RSPB reserve at Coombes Valley, near Leek in Staffordshire. We had a pleasant woodland walk but apart from a couple of buzzards, wildlife did its typical disappearing trick yet again. The most birds we saw were those spotted whilst in the car park.
The next day was the Family History conference at Buxton. It felt strange but it was fun to be back at a larger in-person event, maybe I had missed these occasions more than I thought. The conference was held in the Palace Hotel, obviously once very grand but now a faded old lady, somewhat fraying at the edges. I’ve organised enough conferences to know that it is the things that are out of your control that go wrong and I really felt for the organisers. In theory there was parking reserved for speakers and exhibitors. This had been absorbed by other hotel guests long before 8.20am when I arrived. I and my books were unceremoniously deposited on the doorstep whilst my companion circulated the car park many times, hoping to pounce as someone left. Then there was the heating, or rather there wasn’t the heating. Despite several requests, the management left the settings at arctic. This meant that I had several cups of coffee to keep warm. Decaffinated coffee didn’t seem an option so it was full strength or nothing. This was not a good idea. Lunch was a little lukewarm but the tiramisu was to die for. The previous couple of sentences contain the origins of my downfall.
The conference itself was excellent, with talks from Debbie Kennet on surnames, Nick Barratt on house history and Helen Tovey looking at four decades of Family Tree Magazine. My own presentation was about one-place studies. It was lovely to chat to people, including meeting two more of my family history coven in person for the first time. I also realised how many more books you sell when you are speaking in person and left with near empty boxes.
By the end of the day I was feeling very shaky and I began by blaming the caffeinated coffee. By the evening I was very unpleasantly unwell, not great at any time but especially not in a caravan. In retrospect, I think it was possibly the tiramisu and I heard that I wasn’t the only one to be struck down; maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘to die for’.
The next day we’d arranged to meet up with friends. I was still decidedly fragile so we decided not to go for our planned walk and chatted instead. There was more meeting up the following day, family this time and we were able to watch the Queen’s funeral and walk to the nearby Chatsworth Estate.
Our final day saw us return to Cromford Mill, which, fortuitously, was open this time. No plays on offer but a chance to view the industrial heritage of the area. We arrived just in time to join tour guide, David, who showed a small group of us round.
Cromford Mills forms part of the World Heritage Site that stretches for fifteen miles along the Derwent Valley. Today’s trip brought to mind long ago schooldays learning about the industrial revolution. In 1768, Richard Arkwright, a barber and wig-maker, patented his water-powered spinning frame, invented in conjunction with John Kay. Arkwright was described as ‘a man of copious free digestion’; that sounds like a phrase worth dropping into a conversation at an appropriate moment. Working with the Nottinghamshire hosiery Industry, Arkwright looked for a suitable site to set up his mill in order to produce cotton thread. Cromford had the necessary water supply from the Bonsall Brook and Cromford Sough was diverted to increase the flow. The site was on a turnpike route, vital for transporting raw cotton and the spun thread. Raw cotton arrived in Liverpool from the Caribbean and would be taken by pack horse to the mill. Arkwright used builders from the local lead mines to construct his mill. The building was tall and thin to optimise the light and this became the blueprint for other mills in the area. Initially, the water wheel was constructed using wooden peg gears. The idea was to be ready for production as swiftly as possible.
The frame was designed to be simple to operate, so unskilled workers could be used. Cheap labour was obviously an attraction, so Arkwright largely employed the wives and children of local lead miners. At its peak, over 1000 workers were employed in two shifts. The employees were better paid than farm workers and lead miners. Arkwright supplied toilets in the factory for his workers and there was barrack-like accommodation on site for the male apprentices. He also had workers’ cottages constructed in the village. A second mill was built at Cromford, as well as others in the surrounding area.
Concerns about possible attacks by machine wreckers led to keeping pikes and small arms on site, which the workers were expected to use against saboteurs if the occasion arose. In fact, there were few problems. Until 1775, carding was done manually, which proved inadequate to meet the demand. A carding engine was invented in 1775. The invention of Cartwright’s mechanised loom in the 1780s, increased the demand for spun cotton. Arkwright is regarded as the father of the factory system and it was interesting to explore the site. I was still not feeling up to too much standing or walking but we finished off our visit with a walk along the canal.
Then it was time to head for home. We left early on a beautiful misty morning. I think this may not be our last visit to the area.
Preparing to leave our caravan site in the Lakes, the robin called to bid us farewell, bringing some of his friends, including a nuthatch. We had an uneventful drive south-eastward to Buxton. The landscape is notably different on the Peak District, with hills, open fields and mellow stone.
The Derbyshire site was adjacent to a country park so, once settled, we walked up to Solomon’s Temple, so named for local landowner Solomon Mycock and built in 1894 to replace a former building that was thought to have been commissioned by the Duke of Devonshire, to provide employment for unemployed lime workers in the 1820s. Archaeological finds suggest that this was the site of a Bronze Age burial mound, as artefacts dating from c. 3500 BCE have been found.
We had an early evening meal and left for Cromford where we had booked to see an open-air play. In fact we’d altered our holiday to arrive earlier in Buxton so we could do this. On arrival everything seemed shut and we could see no sign of an imminent performance. Having wandered around for half an hour and asked several people, I manage to find some mobile signal, rare since leaving home and checked the website to discover that the performance had been cancelled. As the play was about the gunpowder plot, I could understand that, in the aftermath of the Queen’s death, it might not be the most tactful time for a performance about trying to blow up a monarch but apparently the decision to cancel was only taken six days later. I was decidedly annoyed that no one seemed to think that it was a good idea to email those who had booked, to save them a round trip of forty miles, or indeed to put a notice of the cancellation on the firmly locked doors but hey ho. After five emails our not inconsequential entrance money was refunded.
The next day we drove to Hope Valley and along Winnats Pass, with its impressive views across to Mam Tor, the site of a Hill Fort. The Hope Valley is the boundary between the millstone grit of the ‘Dark Peak’ and the differing geology of the ‘White Peak’, an area of carboniferous limestone, with its elaborate cave system. Our destination was Castleton and Peveril Castle, one of many castles established after the conquest in the Forest of the Peak to establish Norman control. Originally called the Castle of the High Peak, the castle was later named for William Peveril, an early keeper of the royal forest. The castle’s purpose was more administrative than defensive, being a base for the Keepers of the Forest of the Peak from the eleventh to sixteenth centuries. Their role was to ensure that the punitive Forest Laws were adhered to; fines were paid and rents were collected. The value of the area to the crown lay in its use as a royal hunting ground and also the local lead and silver mines. Castleton grew up in the late twelfth century, its houses and mills providing an income for the castle’s estate. It was a stop on the packhorse route.
Although the castle was owned by the monarch or a member of the royal family, they rarely visited. Henry III, who was almost certainly responsible for constructing the New Hall at Peveril, only stayed once. Even after the building fell into disrepair, the castle continued to be used as a courthouse, prison and the local pound until the sixteenth century, after which much of the castle was demolished and the dressed building stone was plundered.
We looked at various gift shops selling the local Blue John or Fluorspar and read about John Tym’s Blue John workshop. We had excellent cakes and drinks in Dolly’s tea room, really good value too and highly recommended. Allegedly this premises, in a former incarnation, was billed the worst café in the country; definitely not the case now. A Buxton shopping trip yielded not only food but the adaptor required to download my photographs.
On Martha’s recommendation, we headed off to Crich Tramway Village without too much trouble despite a road closure. This haven for preserved trams was opened in 1959 after the former limestone quarry closed. This attraction is well presented and a credit to the largely volunteer workforce. The enthusiastic Ken showed us round. A random collection of items of architectural heritage have found their way on site but blend together. These include what remained of the Derby Assembly Rooms, which was built in 1765 and caught fire in 1963. Its brick by brick demolition and re-erection took three years. There are two 1897 gas lamps, from Ashton-under-Lyne, originally cast to commemorate Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee. The gates came from Marylebone station, there’s a tramway shelter from Matlock and a Hendon police phone box. The Red Lion pub from Stoke on Trent was particularly notable, as was one of the last twenty ‘Penfold’ hexagonal Victorian post boxes in the country. One of the more bizarre artefacts was the ventilation pipe from an underground Birmingham toilet.
We road on two trams, one a 1928 from Porto, Portugal. There were many more trams to view and a huge exhibition area. We took our second tram on a one way journey so we could walk back through the woods and view the wooden sculpture trail. We could see the Sherwood Foresters’ War Memorial, which marks the highest point in Derbyshire. There is a view of eight counties from here but access is restricted at the moment so we couldn’t walk up to it. The road closure was a little more impactful on our return journey but we made it back without too much of a detour.
We made a return visit to Stott Park Bobbin Mill, a fascinating insight into the industrial heritage of the area. The factory was built in 1835 to provide bobbins for the Lancashire cotton industry and was ideally situated for water power and the necessary supply of birch, sycamore and ash. We arrived just in time for a guided tour by Ann. The mill produced bobbins in 260 different styles. Many of the workforce were young boys for the Ulverston workhouse. There was little regard for health and safety. Apart from the dust from the sawdust and shavings, the unguarded machinery would have been a hazard for any workers whose concentration lapsed; circular saws were driven at 3000 rpm. The workshops were well ventilated to reduce fire risks but this made them very cold. Shavings might be waist high to help keep the workers warm but this was of course a fire hazard. Nineteenth century workers were on piecework and were paid by the gross. The tally man would mark their sticks when each gross was completed.
Many workers were laid off when the supply of cotton was disrupted during the American Civil War in the 1860s and the ensuing ‘Lancashire Cotton Famine’ led to a drop in the demand for bobbins. About 1870, W A Fell introduced a semi-automatic boring machine, which simplified the task of boring holes in the bobbins, reducing it to loading new blocks and removing bored bobbins. In 1880, a steam engine replaced the water mill as a source of power. Once plastic began to replace wood the mill went into decline and it finally closed in 1971.
Rain stopped play as regards walking but we did stop off at the Esthwaite Water Café for some very acceptable cake and decent sized mugs of tea and coffee, which we consumed overlooking the lake.
We came home to the news of the Queen’s death.
The weather forecast was uncertain, so we decided on an early walk, whilst it was dry and headed anti-clockwise around the lake for a mile or so and then returned in order to head off to Acorn Bank, an interesting National Trust property. Acorn Bank is situated at Temple Sowerby, which takes its name from its association with the Knights Templar, who were gifted the manor by Henry II in 1185. The next owners, in the mid-fourteenth century, were the Knights of the Hospital of St. John. After the dissolution of the monasteries, Acorn Bank was in the hands Thomas Dalston and his descendants for almost four hundred years. The writer Dorothy Una Ratcliffe purchased Acorn Bank in 1934 and was it given to the National Trust in 1950. The house was tenanted until the 1990s and spent time as a nursing home.
Parts of the current house are sixteenth century but there were later alterations and the façade is eighteenth century. It is the gardens and orchards that are notable at Acorn Bank. The orchards are home to over a hundred varieties of apple, some of which were grown in cordons, in other words, trained diagonally to save space. This year’s crop looked to be prolific. Here also is the largest herb garden in National Trust ownership. There were bee hives to aid pollination and we spotted a large number of red admiral butterflies feasting on fallen plums. Although the surrounding woodland, with its streams and ponds, are a haven for wildlife, the fauna was, as so often on our holidays, conspicuous by its absence. Within the woods are the remains of gypsum mines. This was produced on the estate from 1880-1938 and sold as fertiliser or for plaster. We also walked down to the watermill.
To make up for the lack of wildlife at Acorn Bank, the red squirrels came out to play once back on the site but hasty scampering made them difficult to photograph. They seem to make a habit of opening the top of one of the bird boxes to investigate the contents. The late afternoon was spent watching the accession speech of Charles III.
We set off early to go to Hill Top, a seventeenth century cottage owned by Beatrix Potter from 1905 but used as a writing retreat, rather than her home. She was responsible for extending the property but no mains water or sanitation system was installed until 1928, when her nephew came to live at Hill Top. It was fascinating to see some of Beatrix Potter’s books lying open to show illustrations that mirrored the part of the house or garden that we were in. A bed was covered by a reproduction of the wedding quilt made for her parents in 1863; the original quilt is in the V & A. The main living room had a rather strange wallpapered ceiling . Some knowledgeable guides told us the story of the house and Beatrix’s life. She was constrained by the mores of her time and regretted being known for ‘bunny books’ rather than her other accomplishments, such as botanical drawings. The first book she wrote after her marriage is now seen as a treatise in support of women’s suffrage and was turned down by Warne’s, her publishers. Her published works after this date tended to be re-presentations of earlier works. The cottage garden was beautiful and you expected to spot Peter Rabbit and friends hiding in the foliage.
On the way home, we stopped off to view the standing stones at Castlerigg, visited by William and Dorothy Wordsworth in 1799. We also called in at Keswick for some food. Finally, a short walk to the lake in the afternoon.
We drove out to St. Bees, which was an opportunity to see the sea but on the whole not very inspiring. We climbed the cliffs and rewarded ourselves with an ice cream. We returned via Threlkeld Mining Museum. The quarry opened in the 1870s to provide ballast for the newly opened Penrith-Keswick line and closed in 1982. There were plenty of construction vehicles in varying states of decay, some of which are being restored. We had mistimed our arrival to miss the 1pm train ride, so waited for the 3pm trip before heading home as the rain began. This is an interesting museum, which is clearly a hobby for construction vehicle enthusiasts. Don’t expect professional presentation of exhibits but worth a visit.
It was rainy on our last day in the Lakes, so we went for a drive towards Bassenthwaite. We had planned to go to the post office in Keswick but missed the turning and couldn’t find the free parking. When we finally found it there was no space, so we returned to the van and tried again later with more success. It finally stopped raining in the late afternoon so we could walk by the lake without getting soaked.
Amidst all this touristy activity working/volunteering life went on. Conducting a Zoom meeting was not without difficulty. Great signal in the hotspot but I couldn’t face standing up and waving my arms about for two hours to keep the light on in the hut. Plan B was driving the car to beside the hut and sitting in the car. Thankfully it was a new laptop so had plenty of battery. Of course nights are drawing in so by the middle of the meeting, not wanting to drain the car battery by using the courtesy light, I was in the dark in any case!
We’ve been back from our latest excursion for several days but the ‘interesting’ connectivity issues whilst away meant that I am posting news of these adventures retrospectively. So cast your mind back a few weeks, we are now in early September )although in my head we have surely only just got to June). Day one, other commitments meant that we left home at lunchtime and had an uneventful run to our ‘breaking the journey’ stop in Tewkesbury. Van pitched, we took a short walk into town to acquire some very tasty fish and chips. Tewkesbury makes the most of its heritage. There are several historic buildings and plaques explaining their significance. Heraldic banners along the main street also give a unique flavour.
As it was raining the next day, we forewent another walk round Tewkesbury and drove straight to Keswick amidst delays on the M6, due to an overturned lorry. The satnav was counter-intuitive but we didn’t get lost. The campsite at Borrowdale is in a beautiful wooded setting near Cat Bells and a short walk from Lake Derwentwater, where Swallows and Amazons and Star Wars were filmed. Access to the site is a little challenging but nothing that fifty years’ experience of towing caravans couldn’t handle. A friendly robin greeted us and even popped in the van to say hello. As a bonus, the sun came out, allowing us to walk round the lake. We passed a shed that is home to ‘Teddy in the Window’, who collects money for charity. The outside of the shed is decorated with letters and postcards to Teddy from all over the world. The downside of the site is that wifi access is limited. To be fair, the hot spot includes the information shed, which is one up on huddling under a tree. It does however necessitate standing up and moving continually, as the light in the hut works on a sensor. With two evening meetings due this week, at least for as long as my battery lasts, I anticipated an interesting time.
On our first full day in the Lakes, we set off for Allen Bank in Grasmere. I had neglected to note the postcode and had no phone signal but the helpful site warden found it for me, saving me repairing to the shed hotspot. There is blue badge parking only at Allen Bank, so we parked in Grasmere Village and walked up to the house. It was built in 1805, an era when many industrialists from Manchester and Liverpool were settling in the Lake District. This house was rented to Wordsworth for three years. There is a definite twist to this National Trust property, which suffered from fire damage. It is set up for interaction, with opportunities to sit and read, borrow an art pack and draw, play board games, or just admire the impressive views. An added touch is the provision of explorer rucksacks that children can borrow as they explore the grounds. Some of the fire damaged walls have been painted with interesting murals by a local artist. A nearby, detached billiard room, which resembles a chapel, complete with stained glass, is being renovated and is due to open on Friday. It doesn’t take long to view the house but it is definitely worth investigating the surrounding gardens and woodland. The gardens have been designed with biodiversity in mind and Herdwick Fleeces are used as mulch. There is an uphill walk through the woods to a viewpoint. This did involve climbing wet granite steps, made additionally slippery by fallen leaves but we survived. This despite my not having my non-varifocal glasses with me, making clambering more difficult, as I am unable to see my feet clearly.
Next, a look round Grasmere and a stop to consume cake and a drink. I was tempted by the many sales in the outdoor clothing outlets and acquired what is allegedly a waterproof jacket with a 70% discount. Just as well as I would never spend £90 on a jacket. It will be interesting to see if the claims of breathability and waterproofing are valid.
We stopped off in Keswick on the way home. This was partly to try to purchase an SD card to USB convertor to download my photographs as the new laptop is lacking an SD card slot. In both Grasmere and Keswick there are plenty of cafes, upmarket tourist shops and outdoor clothing outlets but a distinct lack of a camera or computer shop. We managed to secure roadside parking in Keswick and having drawn a blank amongst the shops, went down to the lake. There were people feeding the geese and ducks, providing photographing opportunities. Apparently the views of the lake were revealed in 1747 when the Crow Bank oak plantation was felled. From then on Keswick became a magnet for artists, writers and travellers.
I have had a particular affinity with my great, great grandmother, Ann Stratford, ever since I discovered that her childhood home was in the road I myself lived in for three years. Ann was the third of the five children of Richard and Grace Stratford née Kingham.[i] She was baptised on the 13th of May 1834 at St. Michael and All Angels, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire[ii] and it seems that she spent the first twenty-one years of her life living there.[iii] Aston Clinton is a village situated on the main road between the towns of Tring, in Hertfordshire and Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire. Once married, Ann moved six miles away to Little Kimble,[iv] another Buckinghamshire village whose economy was dependent on agriculture. In company with many rural areas, Buckinghamshire was a flourishing centre for home industry, in particular lace-making and straw-plaiting. Many members of the Stratford family were involved in the plaiting and distribution of straw for the hat trade, which centred on Luton. Born on the eve of the Victorian era, in 1834 and dying a month before Edward VII, in 1911, Ann Stratford’s life-story spans not just the Victorian age but also the rise and demise of the domestic straw-plait trade.
St. Michael and All Angels, Aston Clinton
At the time of Ann’s birth, Buckinghamshire was still suffering from the aftermath of the Swing Riots. In 1830, following an agricultural depression and a series of bad harvests, the plight of agricultural labourers led to protests, during which threshing machines across the south of the country were destroyed under the auspices of the mythical Captain Swing. Conditions and wages were poor, with workers increasingly being hired on short term contracts and having to find their own accommodation, leaving them destitute when work was scarce. Prior to the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, poor relief was inadequate and the obligation of church tithes was punitive. The riots spread across the south of England and were prevalent in Buckinghamshire and the surrounding counties.
The Swing rioters targeted those they perceived as wealthy and overseers of the poor were sent threatening letters, ostensibly from Captain Swing. The rioters demanded increased wages, better conditions, reductions in rents and tithe payments, as well as the destruction of threshing machines. Groups of rioters roamed the countryside damaging threshing machines, burning ricks and attacking property. As labourers in an agricultural community, even if they were not actively involved, the Stratfords must have been affected by causes and consequences of these troubles.
Before Ann’s birth, in 1829, her father Richard, had twice been in court for petty theft.[v] This may have been as a result of the actions of a headstrong young man but the stealing of firewood and turnips suggests perhaps that the family were in dire straits. As poverty tightened its grip, families, such as the Stratfords, were increasingly dependent on income from home industries, in their case straw-plaiting. In 1839, Ann’s short-lived younger brother was born.[vi] In the January of 1840, her two and a half year old sister, Mary, died of convulsions.[vii] Just a month later, Ann’s mother, Grace, mother died of tuberculosis.[viii] This left Ann’s father, a straw dealer, with three young children, Ann and her two older brothers, to care for. Just over three months after the death of his first wife, Richard Stratford married again, to nineteen year old Hannah Young;[ix] Ann was just six years old.
The plait trade flourished in the years known as the ‘hungry forties’. The Stratford’s local market would have been five miles to the east, in Tring. By 1846, a new market opened up to the west in Aylesbury, four miles away from Aston Clinton. The first Aylesbury market was held on the 3rd of October and twenty children under the age of twelve, from surrounding villages, were give monetary prizes for their plait; one of the winners was eleven-year-old Ann Stratford.[x] Ann was recorded as a plaiter in the 1851 census. She was living with her family in Green End Street, Aston Clinton, where I was to live in the 1980s.[xi] It was in 1851 that Anthony Nathan de Rothschild purchased the Aston Clinton estate from The Duke of Buckingham.[xii] The Rothschilds were to set up a model farm in the parish.
Green End Street, Aston Clinton
According to Gróf, 4% of the female population of Buckinghamshire in 1851 were involved in the plait trade, yet in some parishes, such as Edlesborough, the figure was as high as 58%.[xiii] Conditions were notoriously hard for straw-plaiters, who would be brought weekly supplies of straw by the plaitman and paid by the score (twenty yards) for what they produced; the more complex patterns commanding the highest rates. From a very young age, children would be expected to contribute to the family income in this way, some in plait schools that gained a reputation for ‘places of child exploitation amid exceptional squalor, and even cruelty’.[xiv]
In 1851, Ann was one of one hundred and eighteen females aged between five and twenty five in Aston Clinton, 59% of whom were involved in the plait trade. In all, 60% of Aston Clinton females, including children, were recorded with some form of occupation; two thirds of them were plaiters.[xv] Ann Stratford’s father Richard was a straw dealer,[xvi] as was her older brother Peter;[xvii] another brother, Henry, was a straw drawer, preparing the straw for plaiting.[xviii] The graph below shows the age and gender distribution of the two hundred and thirty nine plait workers in Aston Clinton in 1851; they made up 41% of the workforce in the parish.
Inhabitants of Aston Clinton in 1851 who were involved in the Plait Trade[xix]
Children as young as three would begin to learn to plait. Plaiting expert, Veronica Main, has found a record of a child of eighteen months involved.[xx] The children would be crowded into plait schools, held in small cottage rooms= that had poor lighting and were full of fumes from the ‘chaddy pot’ charcoal heaters that they put under their skirts for warmth. Those running the schools were accused of exploiting their labour-force. School is a misleading appellation, the education provided related solely to plaiting. Ann was illiterate, signing her marriage certificate and registering her daughters’ birth with a cross.[xxi] A child’s early attempts at plait would not be saleable and were termed ‘widdle waddle’ but by the age of ten, a child could earn two-thirds of an adult’s income.
The plaiters would work twelve or fourteen hour days but the rewards were significant; the most proficient, who produced the more complicated patterns, might earn more than their agricultural labouring husbands. Plain plait was worth seven pence a score. In 1813, Priest wrote, ‘women and children here make great earnings by making lace and platting [sic] straw, unfortunately to the disadvantage of agriculture; for whilst they can earn by such work from 7s. to 30s. per week ……, it can scarce be expected they would undertake work in the field’.[xxii] Lucy Luck referred to the straw season, as being from January to June, saying that there was less work during the remainder of the year[xxiii] but there was a good living to be made from plaiting.
There were several roles involved in the plait trade, including drawers, strippers, cutters, splitters, sorters, bleachers, dyers and the plaiters themselves. One splitter could provide enough straw for fifty plaiters. Although it was possible to fulfil more than one of these roles, increasingly, individuals specialised in one or the other. At the top of the hierarchy were the straw dealers, some having large-scale, highly profitable businesses. At the first Aylesbury plait market, held in 1846, Mr Thorn of Aston Clinton brought 500 score of plait to sell; the most productive dealer bringing 1300 score and nearly £1000 of plait changed hands.[xxiv]
There were health hazards associated with plaiting. Plaiters developed cracks at the corners of their mouths, from dampening the straw. If dyed straws were used, the dye transferred to the plaiter’s mouth. The posture required also led to hunched left shoulders.
Throughout the nineteenth century, middle-class men passed judgements on the lifestyle of the straw-plaiters. Straw-plaiting was regarded as leading to immorality and ignorance, with plaiters deemed to be more likely to have illegitimate children and lack proficiency in essential domestic tasks. The plaiters’ husbands were accused of being lazy and living on their wives’ incomes. In 1882, it was reported that plaiters
“are a sadly untidy and unthrifty set of people, scarcely knowing how to do a stitch of needlework, or cook a potato; addicted to making a cup of tea and eating dry bread and butter if they can afford it.”[xxv]
Goose writes that,
“The Clergy Visitation Returns for Buckinghamshire in 1854 and 1866 blamed high levels of illegitimacy squarely on the industry. At Stewkley and Linsdale the ‘evils’ of the trade were castigated, while at Aston Clinton the local clergyman complained that plaiters became independent of their parents too soon, leading to early marriages and unspecified ‘immorality’ which, it was claimed, frequently took place on Buckland Common.”[xxvi]
Goose goes on to point out that, in 1864, the Royal Commission on Children’s Employment reported that children could earn 6d a week from straw-plaiting, therefore there was a significant incentive for parents to put them to work, thus, “it is not surprising… that ignorance and vice abound among a population so reared.”[xxvii] As early as 1804, Arthur Young wrote in General View of Agriculture of the County of Hertfordshire that, “the farmers complain of it, as doing mischief, for it makes the poor saucy, and no servants can be procured, where this manufacture establishes itself.”[xxviii] George Culley’s report to the Royal Commission on the Employment of Children, Young Persons and Women in Agriculture of 1867/8, commented on the “great want of chastity amongst the plait girls,” blaming the early independence from their parents, that earnings from plait allowed and the fact that, “male and female plaiters go about the lanes together in summer engaged in work which has not even the wholesome corrective of more or less physical exhaustion”.[xxix]
Despite these contemporary claims, Gróf’s study of Edesleborough in Buckinghamshire[xxx] concluded that the assertions of higher illegitimacy rates amongst plait workers were unfounded. Goose’s wider study of Hertfordshire suggests that despite indications of enhanced rates of illegitimacy in some plaiting areas, this was not necessarily attributable to plaiting, other factors being at work.[xxxi]
Plait-School
Image George Washington Brownlow in the public domain
Studying the Stratford family shows that Aston Clinton was similar to Edlesborough, in that their women played a vital role in the family economy. These villages had far more women with recorded occupations than the county average of 4%. Two of the factors that Pennington and Westover cite as being likely to result in the emergence of home industry, such as plaiting, were low wages for men and the prevalence of casual labour; both factors which also stimulated the Swing Riots.[xxxii] It can be seen that Ann was part of a much wider pattern of female employment.
On the 13th of March 1855, Ann gave birth to an illegitimate daughter, Mary Ann Howe Stratford in Aston Clinton.[xxxiii] There is no DNA evidence to confirm or refute the identity of Mary Ann’s father but it seems almost certain that he was William Howe. Ann was to marry William three months later in his home village of Great Kimble, where the couple set up home. What then of the allegation of immorality amongst plait workers? Ann’s eldest brother had been born three months before her parents’ marriage. Ann’s own first child was also born out of wedlock. Would Ann, or her mother Grace, have been subjected to the ‘rough music’ that traditionally accompanied illegitimate births? This involved banging saucepan-lids or tins cans together to cause a commotion outside the mother’s home. At her baptism, which took place in Great Kimble after the marriage of William and Ann, Mary Ann’s parents were listed as Robert and Charlotte Howe, who were in fact William’s parents.[xxxiv] As Charlotte would have been fifty at the time this seems unlikely, also Mary appears in the 1861 census as William’s daughter.[xxxv] Mary Ann’s birth was registered as Mary Ann Howe Stratford,[xxxvi] underlining the probability that she was the child of William and Ann and illustrating that the baptism record is misleading.
St. Nicholas’, Great Kimble
From this single instance it is difficult to draw any conclusions about pre-marital pregnancy however, in this respect Ann was adding weight to those who reviled the straw-plaiting women as being promiscuous. Gróf mentions an unreferenced Parliamentary Report of 1842 which stated that, “the moral condition of the lace-makers seems nearly as low as that of the plaiters… chastity is at a sad discount … prostitution is at a high premium.”[xxxvii]
Ann’s husband, William, was an agricultural labourer. Despite the Swing Riots and increased demand for labourers following waves of emigration, agricultural wages were still low in Buckinghamshire in the 1850s. Perhaps attracted by the promise of up to £6 bounty, in 1852, whilst still a single man, William Howehad responded to a recruiting poster and enlisted in the Royal Bucks King’s Own regiment of militia.[xxxviii] The militia were groups of amateur soldiers, mustered in times of strife or perceived threat. The Militia Act of 1852 was a response to the fear of French invasion and 80,000 men were sought. It was hoped to recruit sufficient volunteers but the Act did provide for a ballot to force men to enrol should they not come forward. Private 492 William How [sic] was recruited on the 28th of October 1852 at the age of twenty years and eight months[xxxix]. His height was 5’ 6¼”, his occupation was listed as labourer and he received an initial bounty of sixteen shillings. Over the next two years William undertook several periods of service throughout the county, receiving regular bounty payments of up to £3 13/- a quarter.[xl] This illustrates how wider reaching foreign affairs affected the life of a simple agricultural family in the provinces.[xli]
When Ann married William Howe at St. Nicholas’, Great Kimble on the 26th of June 1855; she was described as a servant of Great Kimble and William was recorded as being a militiaman.[xliii] It appears that William and Ann spent thirty years in the same cottage.[xliv] It is likely that they moved there on marriage in 1855 and were still there in 1886 when their daughter, Caroline, returned from Battersea in south London, in order to give birth to her daughter, my grandmother, Elizabeth Ann Hogg.[xlv] The census returns of 1861 and 1871[xlvi] suggest that this cottage was close to a chapel and the Crown Inn, with just one cottage between the Howe’s and the Inn. In Little Kimble, when I visited in the 1990s, Old Chapel Close indicated the site of the Chapel and an Indian Restaurant inhabited what appears to be the former Crown Inn. Next door was one cottage, then named ‘*** ******’, clearly old enough to have been built by the 1850s. Further on again, was Brookside House, where William and Ann’s daughter Jane was working in 1881.[xlvii] So where could William and Ann have lived? Had it been demolished? Looking more carefully at ‘*** ******’ it became obvious that this was once two cottages; the brickwork round a second front door was clearly visible to the left of the existing door. So, the right-hand half of ‘*** ******’ was home to William, Ann and their nine children. In 1861, the family, by then with four children, even found room for a lodger, George Fleet; almost certainly an economic necessity. According to the 1861 census, Ann was still plaiting.[xlviii]
The Probable Former Home of William and Ann Howe
William and Ann went on to have five more daughters and three sons. They all survived to adulthood and married, which seems unusual in times of poverty and poor public health. It is possible that there were miscarriages but the children are very evenly spaced.[xlix]
Although no occupation is listed for Ann in the censuses from 1871 to 1891,[l] it is almost certain that she would have continued to plait; women’s occupations are notoriously under-represented in the census returns. Toward the end of their lives William and Ann went to live in Weston Road, in Ann’s home parish of Aston Clinton, next to their son Joseph, for a time. They were there in 1891, when, at the age of sixty, William was working as a roadman and by this time, Ann had lost her hearing.[li] Ten years later, they had returned to Great Kimble and were living in Smokey Row. William was working as a horseman on a farm. Ann was then recorded as plaiting straw.[lii] William, described as a farm labourer, died in Great Kimble of exhaustion and acute bronchitis on the 14th of December 1904. His death was registered by his daughter-in-law Louisa, who had come down from Fulham and had been in attendance at the time of William’s death.[liii]
Ann’s generation was the last to depend on straw. The market had collapsed in the face of cheap imports and former plaiters were forced to turn to sewing the foreign plait into bonnets, or to seek other means of contributing to the domestic economy. Of Ann’s daughters, only the eldest, Mary Ann, took up plaiting, something she did into adulthood, although by the time she was widowed, in 1911, she was engaged in laundry work, there being no longer any demand for plaiting.[liv] The remaining daughters went into domestic service, or worked as dressmakers.[lv]
On the 1st of April 1911, Ann died in Saunderton Workhouse infirmary of old age and exhaustion. Her death was registered as Hannah How.[lvi] Ann was buried with her husband at Great Kimble.[lvii]
Clarke, E. ‘Plait and Plaiters’ in Cassell’s Family Magazine (1882) Vol. 8 pp. 76-79.
Davis, Jean Straw Plait Shire Publications Ltd. (1981).
Few, Martha unpublished, untitled essay for The Open University course A173 (2008).
Goose, Nigel ‘How saucy did it make the poor?: Illegitimacy fertility and the family in nineteenth century Hertfordshire’ in History Vol. 91.4 304 (2006) pp. 530-556.
Gróf, Lázló L., Children of Straw, Baron, Buckingham (2002).
Luck, Lucy ‘Lucy Luck Straw-plait Worker’ in Burnett, John Useful Toil: autobiographies of working people from the 1820s to the 1920s Routledge (1974) pp. 53-62.
Pennington, S and Westover, B., A Hidden Workforce, homeworkers in England 1850-1985, Macmillan Education, Basingstoke (1989).
Page, William [ed.] ‘The parishes of Aylesbury hundred: Aston Clinton’, in A History of the County of Buckingham: Volume 2,Victoria County Histories (1908), pp. 312-319. Accessed via British History Onlinehttp://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/bucks/vol2/pp312-319 accessed 23 September 2022.
Priest, St. John General View of Agriculture of the County of Buckinghamshire (1813).
Tremenheere, Hugh S. Commission on Employment of Children, Young Persons and Women in Agriculture H. M. Stationery Office (1867)
Young, Arthur General View of Agriculture of the County of Hertfordshire (1804).
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Martha Barnard, Lorna Brooks, Stephen Daglish, Vicki Morphew.
[i] Aston Clinton entries from Buckinghamshire Baptisms Index via www.findmypast.so.uk original document reference PR8/1/4. 1851 census for Green End Street, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire HO107 1721 folio 485.
[ii] Aston Clinton entries from Buckinghamshire Baptisms Index via www.findmypast.so.uk original document reference PR8/1/4.
[iii] Aston Clinton entries from Buckinghamshire Baptisms Index via www.findmypast.co.uk original document reference PR8/1/4. 1851 census for Green End Street, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire HO107 1721 folio 485.
[iv] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire, RG9 861 folio 91.
[v]Bucks Gazette 16 May 1829 p. 4 col. d. Bucks Gazette 28 November 1829 p. 4 col. c.
[vi] Birth certificate of male Stratford 1839 digital image from the General Register Office.
[vii] Death certificate of Mary Stratford 1840 digital image from the General Register Office.
[viii] Death certificate of Grace Stratford née Kingham 1840 pdf from the General Register Office.
[x]Bucks Advertiser & Aylesbury News 10 October 1846 p. 4 col. d.
[xi] 1851 census for Green End Street, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire HO107 1721 folio 485.
[xii] Page, William [ed.] ‘The parishes of Aylesbury hundred: Aston Clinton’, in A History of the County of Buckingham: Volume 2,Victoria County Histories (1908), pp. 312-319. Accessed via British History Onlinehttp://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/bucks/vol2/pp312-319 accessed 23 September 2022.
[xiii] Gróf, Lázló L., Children of Straw, Baron, Buckingham (2002).
[xiv] Gróf, Lázló L., Children of Straw, Baron, Buckingham (2002) p. 65.
[xv] 1851 Census Index CD, Buckinghamshire Family History Society.
[xvi] 1851 census for Green End Street, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire HO107 1721 folio 485.
[xvii] 1861 census for Plumbers Arms, Weston Road, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire RG9 867 folio 8.
[xviii] 1841 census for College Farm Road, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire HO107 40/1 folio 10.
[xix] Few, Martha unpublished, untitled essay for The Open University course A173 (2008).
[xx] BBC2 Made in Britain: hats first screened 2018.
[xxi] Marriage certificate of William Howe and Ann Stratford 1855 from the Local Registrar. Birth certificate of Mary Ann Howe Stratford digital image from the General Register Office.
[xxii] Priest, St. John General View of Agriculture of the County of Buckinghamshire (1813) p .346.
[xxiii] Luck, Lucy ‘Lucy Luck Straw-plait Worker’ in Burnett, John Useful Toil: autobiographies of working people from the 1820s to the 1920s Routledge (1974) p. 63.
[xxiv]Bucks Advertiser & Aylesbury News 10 October 1846 p. 4 col. d.
[xxv] Clarke, E. ‘Plait and Plaiters’ in Cassell’s Family Magazine (1882) Vol. 8 p. 76.
[xxvi] Goose, Nigel ‘How saucy did it make the poor?: Illegitimacy fertility and the family in nineteenth century Hertfordshire’ in History Vol. 91.4 304 (2006) p. 534.
[xxvii] Goose, Nigel ‘How saucy did it make the poor?: Illegitimacy fertility and the family in nineteenth century Hertfordshire’ in History Vol. 91.4 304 (2006) p. 535.
[xxviii] Young, Arthur General View of Agriculture of the County of Hertfordshire (1804) p. 222.
[xxix] Tremenheere, Hugh S. Commission on Employment of Children, Young Persons and Women in Agriculture H. M. Stationery Office (1867) p. 135 mentioned in Goose, Nigel ‘How saucy did it make the poor?: Illegitimacy fertility and the family in nineteenth century Hertfordshire’ in History Vol.91.4 304 (2006) p. 535.
[xxx] Gróf, László Children of Straw: the story of straw plait, a vanished craft and industry Baron (2002).
[xxxi] Goose, Nigel ‘How saucy did it make the poor?: Illegitimacy fertility and the family in nineteenth century Hertfordshire’ in History Vol. 91.4 304 (2006) pp. 530-556.
[xxxii] Pennington, S and Westover, B., A Hidden Workforce, homeworkers in England 1850-1985, Macmillan Education, Basingstoke (1989).
[xxxiii] Birth certificate of Mary Ann Howe Stratford digital image from the General Register Office.
[xxxiv] Aston Clinton entries from Buckinghamshire Baptisms Index via www.findmypast.co.uk original document reference PR8/1/4.
[xxxv] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG9 861 folio 91.
[xxxvi] Birth certificate of Mary Ann Howe Stratford digital image from the General Register Office.
[xxxvii] Gróf, Lázló L., Children of Straw, Baron, Buckingham (2002) p.80. He is presumably refering to the second report of the Children’s Employment Commission.
[xxxviii] WO13 199 Muster Books and Pay Lists Royal Bucks King’s Own Regiment of Militia Enrolment Account 1852.
[xxxix] He was in fact twenty one years and eight months old.
[xl] WO13 199 Muster Books and Pay Lists Royal Bucks King’s Own Regiment of Militia Enrolment Account 1852.
[xli] Some of the information in this paragraph is based on Few, Martha unpublished, untitled essay for The Open University course A173 (2008); used with permission.
[xlii] Recruiting Poster reproduced in Beckett, Ian Call to Arms: Buckinghamshire’s Citizen Soldiers Barracuda Books (1985) p. 49.
[xliii] Marriage certificate of William Howe and Ann Stratford 1855 from the local registrar.
[xliv] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG9 861 folio 91; 1871 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG10 1408 folio 109; 1881 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG11 1469 folio 95.
[xlv] Birth certificate of Elizabeth Ann Hogg 1886, short certificate in family possession, full certificate from the General Register Office.
[xlvi] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG9 861 folio 91; 1871 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG10 1408 folio 109.
[xlvii] 1881 census index for Brookside, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG11 1469 folio 97.
[xlviii] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG9 861 folio 91.
[xlix] 1861 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG9 861 folio 91; 1871 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG10 1408 folio 109; 1881 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG11 1469 folio 95. Birth indexes of the General Registrar.
[l] 1871 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG10 1408 folio 109; 1881 census for Aylesbury Road, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG11 1469 folio 95. 1891 census for Weston Road, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire RG12 1146 folio 37.
[li] 1891 census for Weston Road, Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire RG12 1146 folio 37.
[lii] 1901 census for Smokey Row, Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG13 1352 folio 83.
[liii] Death certificate of William Howe 1904 from the Local Registrar.
[liv] 1911 census for Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG14 7901 sn 7.
[lv] 1881 census for 10 Church Street, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire RG11 1472 folio 32. 1891 census for Church Cottages, Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG12 1142 folio 79. 1891 census for 37 Park Lane, St, George’s Hanover Square, London RG12 67 folio 87. 1881 census for Brookside, Little Kimble, Buckinghamshire RG11 1469 folio 97. 1891 census for 100 Fetter Lane, London RG12 238 folio 34. 1881 census for 14 Rickford’s Hill, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire RG11 1472 folio 24.
[lvi] Death certificate (pdf) Hannah How 1911 from the General Register Office.
[lvii] Gravestone at St. Nicholas’ Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire.
