Norfolk Tales

by thehistoryinterpreter

Some more recent travel adventures for you, this time to Norfolk. We left home slightly later than we might have, as I began the day by chatting to the lovely Helen Tovey of Family Tree Magazine, making a recording that will be available on their website. Then the inevitable lengthy, cross-country drive. We arrived at our caravan site in Thetford Forest about 5pm and had time for a quick walk in the forest.

A holiday isn’t a holiday without some family history so, the following day, we set off westwards across the county to Aylsham, the birthplace of my great great grandmother. The landscape was what you would expect from Norfolk, flat, large fields and the vernacular brick and flint cottages; there seem to be plenty of new housing developments on the edge of settlements. Having parked somewhere that probably wasn’t a parking space we looked at Aylsham church, then investigated the marketplace, where my ancestor had a grocer’s and draper’s shop in the 1830s.

Next to Felbrigg Hall, a National Trust property, built in the 1620s by John Wyndham, on the site of an earlier house. It was subsequently added to by later generations. The house passed to a step-son, who changed his name to Windham but the estate was lost by the profligate William Frederick Windham, who married a woman of dubious reputation and then lavished thousands of pounds worth of jewellery on her. His uncle’s attempt to have him declared a lunatic failed. The property was sold, complete with contents, in 1863 and coincidentally found its way back to a Wyndham descendant through marriage.

Our first port of call was the church, to try to identify John’s memorial trees that were planted nearly thirty years ago. At the time, it was easy to spot them, as they were the only young oaks in the vicinity. Now it is a little more tricky. Just how large should a thirty year old oak tree be?

We walked round the extensive walled garden. I thought it was a shame that there were so many more recently introduced non-native plants on show but it was impressive. In order to sit down, we forced ourselves to eat cake (me) and a bacon butty (my comrade in arms). There was a handy undercover outside space for this purpose. It had been drizzling all day and it seemed that everyone wanted to be undercover, so there were large queues, both for the café and the house itself. Although we had avoided indoor public spaces up until now, we decided we would go round the house, especially as almost everyone was wearing masks. As a glasses wearer, this does actually mean I can’t see where I am going, as despite purchasing masks described as ‘anti-fog’, I still steam up. I did discover that I could alleviate this by walking round holding my nose. Holding my breath also works but clearly this is not sustainable for more than a few seconds. Holding my nose not only makes me looks slightly ridiculous but comes with its own issues. I am contemplating purchasing one of those nose clips, as worn by synchronised swimmers.

The highlights of the house for me were, of course, the library, with thousands of volumes, including many travel books, brought back by a Windham after an extended Grand Tour. I did wonder how many had ever been read.  The ‘enlightened’ family provided a library of twenty five books for their servants. This did seem a bit underwhelming, given the size of their own library. The eighteenth century Chinese wallpaper was also interesting. Apparently it was peeled off the walls and sent to Cambridge for cleaning, before being reapplied. There was also some floor-covering on a bathroom, that had what appeared to be a nursery rhyme theme. As usual, the servants’ quarters had their appeal. A quick look round the second-hand book shop led to the obligatory purchases, including a book by a friend of mine.

With a months’ rainfall forecast for the late afternoon, we decided walking round Cromer might be best left for another day. We did drive in to see where the sea would have been if it wasn’t masked by heavy cloud. Cromer was gridlocked with those who had taken to their cars to escape the rain, so we resolved to return later in the week if we have time. The evening saw the first of a series of planned, how easy is it to Zoom using pretty ropey caravan site wifi? experiments. Possible it seems, as long as you don’t want to say anything or be seen.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 2: the technological challenges

by thehistoryinterpreter

Following on from my previous account, for once it seemed that my passport photo passed muster, so that was one hoop successfully negotiated. Then, last week, the excitement of registering for my modules. Randomly I do seem to be registered for something entirely different as well but that is a bridge to be crossed, probably if I seem to be expected to pay for it. I am sure that a graduate certificate in world heritage conservation is all very interesting but ……..

Yesterday I conquered, at the third attempt, applying for Commonwealth Games tickets. I thought I was all prepared for this, having registered as soon as it was possible about two years ago. It seems I failed then to click on the ‘confirm your registration’ link in an email I never received and certainly don’t have now, so I am not registered at all and my application kept stalling as I was told that I needed to verify my account. Never fear, thinks I, I’ll just reregister with one of my many other email addresses – there are advantages to having several. But no, it seems, as you have to give your name, address, date of birth and probably your inside leg measurement, so they think I am already in the system. I reapply as a fisherman of my acquaintance, hoping that my using my own card details but his address won’t mess things up. He will only attend under sufferance; I can hardly expect him to pay. At regular intervals throughout the whole debacle, I was exhorted to ‘click on the (ridiculously blurred) images with traffic lights/stairs etc.’, to ensure that I am not a robot. Maybe a robot could make a better fist of navigating the system.

Anyway, after all that, I’d had my fill of technological challenges for one week but embarking on an online university course comes with a whole set of challenges all of its own, before you even get to the actual studying. Yesterday I clicked on various links I’d been sent and discovered that course material was available. With a holiday in the offing, I gleefully began looking at this, thinking that I might be able to get ahead. There is in any case a debate about whether the course started yesterday, next Monday or next Tuesday – take your pick from advertised dates. It was a tad confusing, as this material seemed to refer to a similar, in-person course that ran last year. Despite the excitement, I was reluctant to go too far down this route in case I was spending time on the wrong course. Today I seem to have got the correct material, so that is a relief and also slightly scary, well, okay, very scary.

I filled in my student profile, choosing to upload my Mistress Agnes picture for this. They might as well know from the outset that I am weird. I added some biographical information as requested, confirming my weirdness status. This involved changing my Facebook username to something that actually was my name, before sharing the link, tick in that box. What the heck is my Google URL? Nope, no idea – I tried several likely combinations but all just lead back to a Google advert. I decided to leave that box blank.

I read the module handbook and ordered two very expensive books. One even might arrive before I go away if the mighty Amazon do as they claim. Other suggested books can be downloaded. I much prefer actual books to reading online but in the interests of economy, I downloaded some more. One helpfully tells me that it will take me 594 minutes to read. That seems awfully precise; if I had nothing better to do I’d time myself. I am quite thankful that I am a speed reader. I am also increasingly aware that I haven’t done any proper taught courses since the mid 1990s. I don’t count the PhD where you basically make it up as you go alone and devise your own questions.

There are weekly Zoom tutorials. Thankfully, only one of these clashes with a pre-existing engagement but I am concerned that I will be in the middle of a field with questionable wifi for the first ones. The first assignment is due in six weeks. I am starting to wonder if Ireland has a different calendar to us as in one place a least, the due date is a day/date combination that don’t exist. I am a submit early person, so hopefully this won’t matter anyway.

So I am off to read for 594 minutes, or maybe 593 if I am lucky.

It is difficult to find illustrations for these blog posts, so you will have to put up with a gratuitous ‘practicing with the new camera’ picture – so far the most significant challenge with that has been trying to thread the strap through a teeny tiny slit.

All Things Mayflower

by thehistoryinterpreter

Saturday was the all-day Mayflower 400 International conference. The eagle-eyed mathematicians amongst you will note that it is in fact 401 years since the Mayflower sailed in 1620. The conference was originally scheduled for last year and was to be a live event. It was delayed by a year and finally converted to an online format. This meant that there were attendees from across the globe, many of them watching at hours when most self-respecting folk were asleep.

After a very interesting and relevant introduction from Charlie Courtenay, Earl of Devon, Master Christopher and Mistress Agnes chatted about their lives in Devon in the fifty years since the Mayflower sailed. For various logistical reasons we had pre-recorded this, amidst a certain amount of issues, such as very loud, large tractors driving past, or the phone ringing at inopportune moments. Cue take 3, or 4, or 10.

After us, Cor de Graaf gave the Leiden perspective. I am so in awe of people who can present in a second language. After some friendly lunchtime chat, that is characteristic of Devon Family History Society meetings, Phil Revell told the story of the More children from Shropshire, who were dispatched across the Atlantic on the Mayflower, having been taken from their mother.

This was followed by Debbie Kennett, explaining the uses of genetic genealogy. Then a thought-provoking session from UK based, American TV journalist, Jim Boulden. He was analysing why lineage societies, such as that for Mayflower descendants, are so popular in the US.

Jo Loosemore told us about the problems of curating the Mayflower Exhibition at The Box in Plymouth, during a pandemic. Hearing about the ethos behind the exhibition, which incorporated heavy involvement from the Wampanoag, was fascinating. Unfortunately, now the day was virtual and therefore extended into the evening, I didn’t get to stay for Nick Barrett’s closing session, a real shame as Nick is always an excellent speaker.

Two years ago, I purchased tickets for the Torrington Bonfire. If you are thinking, pile of sticks, add a match, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I have been to three previous bonfires and these are truly spectacular events. They are organised by Torrington Cavaliers who spend two or three years building elaborate constructions, which are then burned, raising thousands of pounds for charity. Previous models have included the Victory, a Medieval castle, Trumpton and London’s Pudding Lane. So convincing was this last construction that a local estate agent was approached by someone trying to purchase one of the new houses that were being built on the common. This time, in another delayed event, it was the Mayflower that was to be consigned to the flames. The first thing of note was that this was a full-scale model and it really brought home just how small the Mayflower was and how hazardous that transatlantic journey would have been.

I am now going to get a bit ranty, so you may want to stop reading here. First, some context. In the past week Devon and Cornwall have been declared an area requiring enhanced response measures, due to levels of COVID that are twice the national average. In my immediate area, nearly half of all recorded COVID cases have been in the past month. Our major hospitals are on red alert. Although nothing is mandatory, extra caution, including continued mask-wearing, reducing social contact and regular self-testing is being advised. I have been doing all this as a matter of course anyway.

We debated whether it was sensible to attend a large scale event (the actual attendance was 9000). This would be the first time in eighteen months that I had intentionally put myself in a situation where there would be more than half a dozen people together. We reasoned that it was outside and we could remain on the outskirts, or even come home if we wanted to. We also decided to miss much of the preliminary activity and go later than we otherwise might have. Stupidly, we also thought that the recently announced need for particular caution might mean that people would be more considerate. Naturally, we resolved to wear masks.

We did indeed station ourselves on the periphery, in a place where we could see many of the other 9000 or so attendees passing by. We were several metres from anyone else until the very end when a raucous, large family pushed in front of us, despite there being plenty of space elsewhere. I passed the time waiting for the fireworks people watching and then with incredulity, counting the mask wearers. You might expect older people at least to be more cautious (nope – not one person who appeared to be over fifty, apart from us, with a mask). The first aiders then, they’d need to wear masks, wouldn’t they? No again, one out of the four that I saw. Out of 9000 people, of whom I estimate I saw well over 2000, sixteen, just sixteen were wearing masks, most of them children. I know we were outside but closer to the centre of activity, people were crammed in. Then, in what I thought was the height of irresponsibility, one of the live bands encouraged the audience to sing along. Bear in mind that most of the non mask-wearing audience were shoulder to shoulder with strangers.

I know I am over cautious, I know people are desperate for things to be ‘normal’ but I was shocked at the total lack of awareness and concern. I also know that mask wearing isn’t pleasant. It was the first time I had worn mine outside for several hours and as the night grew colder, I was either viewing the spectacular fireworks through a fog or wiping my glasses every ten seconds. No it wasn’t pleasant, yes it was a pain but I did it and willingly. Not only because I want to reduce my risk of being seriously ill, requiring hospitalisation or dying but I also want to reduce risks for others. I too want to go back to ‘normal’. I want going out to be safer for those with vulnerable, as yet unvaccinated, children and my immune-compromised friends for whom vaccines are unlikely to be effective and for whom COVID would be extremely damaging or fatal. I guess others who feel like me chose to stay away from Saturday’s event and attending was certainly out of character with my behaviour over the past eighteen months. I am still not sure if I regret going. I felt that for the most part, we minimised risk but it shouldn’t just have been up to us. This is a community issue and everyone should be playing their part. Vaccination helps but is not immunity. Outside helps but is no guarantee that infection won’t spread. Take care of yourselves people, take care of each other. So, a great event; the fireworks were particularly impressive, shame about the audience. I am sure if each one of those people was asked what they would do to save the lives of their children, grandparents, loved-ones, they’d say ‘anything’. We are not being asked to donate our kidneys, to do ‘anything’, we are being asked to be careful, considerate, human. I am not ‘living in fear’ or being dictated to, I am making informed personal choices and taking reasonable precautions to keep myself safe, in the same way that I wear a seatbelt, or exercise and eat reasonably sensibly. I can’t understand the thinking behind the behaviour I witnessed on Saturday night. I can only assume they think the risk is minimal that the odds are ‘it won’t happen to me’. I hope for their sakes their gamble with those odds pays off.

The Experimental Archaeology Adventure Part 1: the adventure begins

by thehistoryinterpreter

I am not sure which is more experimental, the archaeology or the adventure. Before I wrote Barefoot on the Cobbles it was a toss up between writing a novel and doing an experimental archaeology course and back in 2016, I opted for the former, which was at least cheaper! Two novels on and I was all set to begin novel number three. I had an idea (I still do) but it just wasn’t working. Time, thinks I, to put it to one side and return to the experimental archaeology course idea. This may well ensure that the creative novel three juices begin to reflow any time about now. Of course, in the intervening five years the world has changed. Despite all the awfulness, I now had more scope because there were courses that I could attend virtually. I looked for possibilities and came up with what seemed to be just what I wanted, at University College, Dublin. To be honest the course details were sketchy in the extreme but it specifically mentioned that it was suitable for historical interpreters, so I decided to take the plunge.

The first hurdle was circumnavigating the online applications process. Not hugely difficult but I needed an academic reference at a time when all universities were effectively closed. I also needed it quickly as it seemed that it was pretty much a ‘first come first served’ for suitable applicants. Not only was it the Easter vacation but everyone was working from home. It was also more than ten years on from my PhD, would anyone remember who I was? After a few phone calls and emails, I finally secured a reference that implied that I might be capable of Postgraduate level study.

Shortly after, I was given a place and began to wonder quite what I had let myself in for; it was still all a bit of a mystery. There were a couple of introductory Zooms over the summer. I ‘met’ the professor responsible for the course and he seemed to be my sort of person. I lurched between excitement, sheer terror and putting it to the back of my mind.

Then, this week, it all began to take off. I had several generic emails telling me how to stay safe on campus and explaining about all the great activities that I could take part in, or of course, not, in my case. It was time to formally register. This was mostly straightforward but I needed the dreaded passport photo. This came with all the usual, plain background, don’t wear a hat, don’t look sideways, don’t have your hair in front of your face and worst of all, don’t have a reflection in your glasses, instructions. I didn’t have anything remotely suitable but fortunately Martha was on hand to produce something that, for a passport type photo of someone who is 100% not photogenic, actually looked half decent. I tried to upload it. Error message. ‘Your photo must be less than 50KB. Hmmm that is really pretty small. I tried taking a screen shot of the 2.5MB photo. Ah, that was considerably smaller but still 62KB. The registration paged offered the option of an online photo size reducing thingy. Now I looked like something out of a hall of mirrors. A few more attempts and success. Now I am waiting to see if it meets with approval; it had better, as this is as good as it gets. Next, I have to decide if I want to give my parents access to my academic record. I am tempted to say yes but decide that might be tricky as they’ve been dead for 56 and 10 years.

Finally, I get a summary of the three modules that make up the course. Now I am really excited. Fortunately, they look brilliant, especially ‘Crafts, Making and Storytelling’, which comes in the summer trimester (or term as we English say – trimester sounds like I am pregnant). I also have a shiny new academic email address to add to the many that I already have. I wonder if we get to keep it post course. I have now had academic email addresses in two different countries, which is weirdly thrilling.

No book list yet, which will be the next excitement. In anticipation of needing extra shelf space and cash to purchase the new books, Martha has been helping me with a book cull. If anyone wants some heraldry books at bargain prices please get in touch.#

I may be a bit stuck for pictures for this series of posts but here I am being vaguely experimental. No, no idea why it looks like I am praying.

About Family and Family History

by thehistoryinterpreter

I know, I know, I’ve been worryingly silent lately. I think this is my longest ever gap between blogs. You only have to read my previous post to know that I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing. Firstly the family have been visiting. This involves excavating the house from under its protective layer of dust, although I suspect the visitors think I could have done a better job. It also means that I’ve been cautiously out and about digging sandcastles, blowing bubbles, reading stories and other fun things.

The family history continues of course. This month, I have managed to have items in both leading UK family history magazines. My discussion on why our ancestors might have been embarrassing is in the latest issue of Family Tree Magazine and there is a short item about agricultural labourers as part of a feature about genealogy education in Who Do You Think You Are?.

One Pharos course (In Sickness and in Death: researching the ill-health and death of your ancestors) draws to a close and another, First Steps to a One-place Study, begins. I am also checking through Are you Sitting Comfortably: writing and telling your family history ready for October and working on a beginners’ course for Devon Family HIstory Society. There are talks to three countries on the horizon, I’ve done some more brick wall demolition and chatted all thing one-place for an upcoming Family History Federation podcast.

I am still working with my lovely memories group, which is really just chatting with friends. I have got to the end of 1973 in my hugely embarrassing diary read. Another ten years and it might start to get better!

If you’ve been following my ramblings for a while you will know that I am passionate about involving young people in their history and heritage. It is something that I have written about and give talks on. Finally, in no small part due to the wonderful folk at Hidden Branch, there is a real enthusiasm for moving forward in this area. Family history societies need to embrace this if they are to have a future. Down here in Devon we are looking for someone (or several someones) with Devon heritage, or a Devon address, in the 18-25 age range to help us to take our society forward in this respect. If that’s you, or if you know someone, please get in touch. It is no good a load of old people trying to decide what they think younger people want.

Following on from the great loft sort out, I’ve embarked on a bit of a book cull. This may sound like sacrilege but when you have a house as small as mine, it is hard to justify keeping books that you haven’t opened since the 1970s. This week on Twitter someone pointed out that 1980 (which as we all know must be about ten years ago surely) is the same distance from 1939 as it is from 2021 – noooooooo.

We are off on another mini jaunt soon, this time heading east to Norfolk. Time of course to revisit the Norfolk ancestry so I can plan the obligatory churchyard tour. There are images of parish registers online now, which weren’t available last time I worked on this branch and ooh look there are a few new ancestors to be discovered. Currently, I am wrestling with some Norwich woolcombers and Great Yarmouth shopkeepers and trying to negotiate my way past an ancestor who was not baptised and came from a non-will writing family who never appear in the newspapers. The use of more unusual forenames means that I am pretty sure who his parents are but evidence, there’s another thing.

The excitement is building prior to the start of my postgraduate certificate course but I have decided to chart my progress through that in a series of separate posts, so watch this space.

What I do now I am ‘Retired’ – or a few days in the life of a family historian

by thehistoryinterpreter

I always say that I work 100 hours a week, or just spend my life enjoying myself. See what you think. This was a fairly typical week in the busyness stakes.

Wednesday

Most of the day was spent hosting ‘One Place Wednesday Online’. #OnePlaceWednesday takes place each week on Twitter, when those with one-place studies ‘chat’. This was an experiment to see if we could have conversations that were more than 280 characters long. And we could! Here are the topics we covered (I was going to list just some of them but I wanted you to get the full favour of the day):

Why settlements grew up where they did

Organising heritage walks

When does a scandalous story become interesting history? How recent is too recent for the story to be told?

Studying indigenous history in ‘colonial’ one-places

Dating vernacular housing

Mapping gravestones

Places and a sense of belonging

Doing a one-place study without spending money and not using Ancestry/FindmyPast etc

War Memorials

Covid in our places

Preserving the story of the present for the future

What makes a community? – geography, religious persuasion, shared experience?

Bottom up history or top down?

Making one-place studies, history and heritage relevant to all ages

Use of family trees for one-place studies

Rural places being swallowed up by towns

Archaeological surveys

Gravestone styles

Ebay purchases

Lockdown (impact on activities, health, different people/different attitudes, changes to the way we research and things like meeting)

Railway accidents

Availability of records in different places

Interviewing “reluctant” contributors and interview techniques

Australian records

Coincidence (or too much of a coincidence) in a name change mystery

Parliamentary Archives

What a good idea the One-place Wednesday online was

1910 valuation

Multiple births

Then, if that wasn’t enough, I had to accompany Mistress Agnes to her virtual talk on seventeenth century crime and punishment at The Merchant’s House. No idea why she can’t go on her own.

Thursday

I was working on a Brick Walls presentation for Devon Family History Society. Working on the walls is a team effort, then I put them together in a presentation. My lovely memories group met to chat about school days in the evening.

Friday

This was devoted to Devon Family History Society admin, followed by a virtual talk to a local U3A about Memories of 1946-1969 and how to write your own and putting the finishing touches to the Brick Walls session.

Saturday

I went through one of the lessons, ready for my online One-place Studies course that starts next month. (There were still a few spaces last time I looked.) Every time, things need updating and links need checking. Then it was virtually off to North-west Kent Family History Society to give a presentation about agricultural labourers. In the afternoon, it was time to deliver the Brick Walls session, tackling submitted family history problems. I think we have taught people how to circumnavigate their own brick walls too well, as this year’s walls were super-solid, so our success rate was lower than usual but we did give suggestions for further research for those we couldn’t solve and there were some very happy customers.

Sunday

I sent out the second lesson to my Pharos Sickness and Death course students. Then making a start on the second Brick Walls session for August but it was mostly too hot for working. People have weekends off right? Not sure I understand this concept.

Monday

An early meeting with Australia, preparing to assist with another Brick Walls session later in the week. Then I had fun recording a podcast about young people and family history for the Family History Federation. The internet connectivity gremlins (not mine) were out in force but it was a very interesting discussion. Another Brick Wall preparation meeting in the evening.

Tuesday

Some CPD training for the job I must not mention and then that very rare thing for someone who works in the family history field, some of my own family history, prompted by a DNA match. This on a Cornish branch that I haven’t worked on for so long that it has never made it from paper on to Family Tree Maker. Given that my first version of this software was on floppy discs, you can see how long it has been neglected. It is close to forty years since I last took a serious look. The Buckinghams are finally being computerised! Not exactly breaking down my own Buckingham brick wall but some suggestions and it does look likely that they came from Devon, rather than Cornwall. Plus the joy of discovering that my 5x great grandparents were in court for fornication. I so need to get a copy of this record. The day ended with an Education sub-committee meeting for Devon Family History Society.

Wednesday

I spent a long time proofreading my article that is due to appear in the next issue of Family Tree Magazine. I am really pleased with this one but it does contain a tricky, sensitive paragraph, which has been worked and re-worked numerous times. Then I attempted to write a section for a rural history book that my local history group are compiling. This was followed by a hybrid meeting of said group. We were proud to have members from three continents, both in the room and online. We still haven’t quite cracked the sound quality coming from the room but we have plans and the speaker was online, so it wasn’t critical.

I still have the Australian brick wall session, listening to a talk, hosting a talk, hosting a coffee morning, sending for the fornication court report, an online chat for Pharos students, a committee meeting, giving a talk, oh and cleaning the house before the family descend at the weekend.

If you think I need downtime, I have been walking on the beach most days. One disastrous evening walk involved encountering far too many people in order to get from the car to the sand. I must have been in sight of getting on for 500 people only two of whom were wearing masks (apart from me). I am not counting the two with masks on their chins. Ok so it was outside but it was very crowded and it was ‘Freedom Day’. I do understand why this is a good thing for many people but equally it is anything but for others. I have friends with health conditions that not only make them extremely vulnerable but also make the vaccine less effective. There are those who are far more COVID anxious than I. Monday was imprisonment day for them. Whilst many people are being personally responsible and are aware of taking care of others, many are not. There are those whose physical or mental health means that they cannot risk being round idiots who are acting like it is all over and who have zero respect for others. I also feel for the young people who may be vulnerable themselves, have vulnerable family members, or who are just anxious and want to wear masks. Now this is not essential, bullying for mask wearing will escalate and sadly not just amongst children. Whilst lockdown anxiety was a very real problem, freedom anxiety is equally so for others, spare a thought for them. Me, I am sticking to early morning beach walks.

The last word belongs to Edward who has been fund raising for a local (to me not him) charity that helps families like his feel at ease and provides exciting activities in a safe space. He has been walking every day, when even leaving the house can be difficult for him. If you want a heatwave, get Edward to do a charity walk. His efforts always coincide with extremely hot weather. He has also been delivering ‘happy post’ to lift people’s spirits. His fundraising page (in his dad’s name) is still open.

Finally, a recent conversation about university in Edward’s household, Edward (aged 7) tells it like it is.

Edward’s mum: Granny is starting a course on archaeology in September

Edward’s dad: She’ll be looking at old things

Ed (without hesitation): She just needs a mirror

How I like my Beach Visits

Welsh Adventures Part 3

by thehistoryinterpreter

The final instalment chronicling our adventures in Wales and beyond.

Day 7 Blaenavon Ironworks

We set off for our pre-booked entry at Blaenavon Ironworks. This time the sat-nav, not only gets us to the right place but takes us past some stunning scenery on the way. Blaenavon Ironworks is a fascinating site. We get in free because Cadw, who run the site, have a reciprocal arrangement with English Heritage. The ironworks were established here in the 1780s and the finished products were shipped out by canal. It was at Blaenavon that Sidney Gilchrist Thomas discovered a way to remove phosphorus from iron ore, which was significant for the steel industry. An impressive digital display gave some idea of the noise and heat that was part of the working environment. It was somehow more impactful because part of the commentary was in Welsh. I am drawn to ruined industrial landscapes and this is on par with the Cornish tin mining sites. Here the jackdaws and the feral pigeons have made their home.

A series of workers’ cottages on the site have been furnished to represent different eras from the 1780s to the 1960s, the life of the ironworks. Covid restrictions mean that we can only look in these cottages, rather than enter them but they are still a highlight of the site. Instinctively, I wanted to look them up in the census returns and mentally put real people in them. This is just the sort of site that anyone with ironworking ancestors should visit. An interesting fact that I gleaned was that, in 1851, there were more industrial workers in Wales than agricultural, allowing Wales to claim to be the first industrialised nation in the world.

We went for a short uninspiring walk from close to the car park then headed off home, planning to stop to take photographs of the view on the way. We hadn’t done so on our outward journey as we were keen not to miss our entry timeslot. Strangely, the sat-nav decided to return us to Brecon via a completely different route. Although a circular route has the advantage of exposing us to more of the country, we are disappointed to miss the views. Just as we are lamenting this, the landscape opens up and the vista is amazing. Squelchy bog prevents me getting a great camera angle and views always seem less impressive in photographs, so I will have to rely on memories. The mid-Welsh landscape seems to be darker green than many areas and fields tend to be small and hedged, despite the availability of stone for walls.

On the way home we are reminded that the Brecon Beacons have their fair share of ******* drivers. We reach a bridge that it not only described as weak but is barely wider than the car. This in itself is not a problem but like many Welsh roads, it is not straight and at the point at which you join the bridge you cannot see the end of it. An illuminated sign warns us that there is a vehicle on the bridge. A vehicle emerges the sign goes out and a green light comes on. We launch into the unknown, only to find, as we turn the corner, that someone is coming in the other direction, presumably having ignored the sign at his end. My gallant chauffeur had to reverse 100 yards round corners, with unforgiving walls no more than six inches from the wing mirrors on either side.

Day 8 Thursday Brecon Canal

Today it is sunny, so we decide to walk from the caravan site, down the canal towpath to Brecon. This involves taking our lives in our hands to cross two dual carriageways first but we survive. This is a pleasant walk and we are rewarded by a grey heron allowing us to get to within five yards before flying off. There are more signs of industrial heritage here, with the remains of the limekilns that were in operation in the early nineteenth century. The canal linked Brecon with the industrialised areas in south Wales.

After a short rest we decide to explore more byways of Wales by car. We drive out to Craig-y-nos Country Park but by the time we arrive, dark clouds are looming and as we have already had our walking ration for the day, we return to the van.

Day 9 Friday To Cheltenham (yes, I know this isn’t in Wales)

It is time to move nearer to home and take up residence at the caravan site on Cheltenham Racecourse. We have stayed on racecourses before and although we have views across what is probably the Malvern Hills, I have to say that it isn’t the most picturesque site we’ve been to. Cheltenham too is unexpected, much larger than I was anticipating. In my head I was thinking smallish, Georgian grandeur, maybe a bit like Buxton but it seems not, or not in the part we travelled through.

I hadn’t planned an activity for the afternoon so time to Google for an outside space. I lied when I said that the wifi on the previous site was the slowest in the world, that honour belongs to the Cheltenham Racecourse wifi, which is not the Caravan Club system, for which I have an annual subscription but free Jockey Club wifi. I guess there isn’t much call for surfing the internet when hurtling over jumps on the back of a horse. An additional issue is that we have the ‘delights’ of a ‘Fun Weekend’ event on the racecourse this weekend – deep joy. This appears to involve a fun fair. Peaceful it may not be.

We opt for Beckford Nature Reserve. This comes very close to being another addition to our ‘nature reserves we didn’t find’ list but no, here it is, unsigned until you get to a small gateway hidden in a hedge. A path winds round an algae covered lake. There’s not much sign of wildlife apart from some baby coots, which I am surprised to see have orangy-coloured heads. Despite two perambulations of the lake, I am still 1500 steps short of my target. Time for some jogging up and down on the spot outside the van. This is followed by the Wimbledon men’s singles semi-finals.

Day 10 Forest of Dean

It wouldn’t be a holiday without some family history, so today it is off to the Forest of Dean, the haunt of some of my children’s ancestors. This lot even rate some gravestones, though many were in poor condition. Trailing from churchyard to churchyard is often circumscribed by bladder capacity, because small villages rarely rate toilets but hurrah, today two of the churches on our itinerary had toilets, so we could happily spend hours peering at semi-legible gravestones.

One of our stops is at St. Briavels. St. Briavels Castle, now run as a Youth Hostel, is closed to the public. It was built as a royal hunting lodge in the twelfth century. It became an important centre for the making of cross bows, using iron from the Forest of Dean.

Having got suitably soggy feet from traipsing through grassy graveyards, we take a short walk along a forest path to keep the step count up. Then it is back to the van, where the wifi oscillates from intermittent to non-existent. I hurriedly identify today’s photographs. In the past, I have been known to end up with numerous church photos and not be quite sure which is which.

Day 11 Slimbridge

We have saved the best until last. Today is our pre-booked visit to the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust centre at Slimbridge, established by Sir Peter Scott seventy five years ago. Last time I visited it was in the spring so there are different things to see today and the opportunity to feed birds is confined to a small area. My favourite part is the new estuary aviary with avocets, oystercatchers, black-tailed godwits, ringed plovers and spoonbills, amongst others. I manage to get a few half-decent photos, despite every bird assiduously going into a preening frenzy at my approach, so that their head are hidden from view.

Welsh Adventures Part 2

by thehistoryinterpreter

Now I am back home and no longer in the land of steam driven wifi, I can continue the story of our Welsh adventures.

Day 4 Ynys-hir Reserve

This is a day to make use of my RSPB life member status and we visit the reserve at Ynys-hir. The reserve is a pleasant setting but notable for its lack of wildlife. Tally, one robin, one thrush, a few squirrels and an unidentifiable, distant bird of prey. In the absence of my own coat, which is sitting on the peg at home, I have appropriated a waterproof coat from the caravan. One of those two words, waterproof and coat, accurately describes this garment. Half way round the second of two trails the heavens open, mostly it seems on my head. We squelch back to the car and call it a day.

Day 5 To Brecon and Llangorse Wildflower Meadows

Time to journey 60 miles down the A470, back towards home and move to a new site at Brecon. This has the advantage of us being able to access more than three TV channels and it has wifi that reaches to the van. Ok, so it is officially the slowest wifi in the world but it beats sitting in a car park. We arrive by lunchtime and decide to explore the nearby wildflower meadows at Llangorse. ‘Park by the common’, it says. First problem, identify the common. It turns out that it wasn’t the tiny, scrubby piece of grass where we leave the car. We do find the enormous common on foot but I am not convinced that we reached the wildflower meadow, unless it was an area of unmown grass with some clover growing on it, not quite the poppies, cornflowers and ox-eye daisies that I was expecting. We did find a Crannog, an ancient lake dwelling familiar from our trip to Scotland and plenty of ducks. If you are wondering why we didn’t use a map, there is a bit of a map issue for this part of the trip. As usual, I made sure I purchased an OS map before leaving home. This is the Brecon Beacons, surely I need a map called Brecon Beacons? No. It turns out that there are three that cover this area and I have chosen the wrong one. Map of the western half of the Brecon Beacons anyone?

Sad to see Emma Raducanu’s enforced retirement from her Wimbledon match on our return to the van.

Day 6 National Botanic Garden of Wales

The National Botanical Garden of Wales is on the itinerary today and this is the furthest we plan to go from a site. Today we have our fair share of road re-surfacers again but all the roads that aren’t being re-surfaced are having their verges/hedges cut, so the stop-go board count rises even further. The sat-nav insists that we have reached our destination. We haven’t. We drive round the block a bit in search of helpful brown signs. After a few miles we pick these up and discover that we should have turned left when the sat-nav insisted on us going right. The gardens were definitely worth the drive and the effort. There is plenty to see, including an Eden Project style biome and a bird of prey centre. Inevitably my favourite parts were the less formal apothecary’s garden and the allotments. There is a display associated with medicinal plants and some beautiful quilt panels depicting herbs. I also learn about the physicians of Myddfai, whose story began with Rhiwallon who was the thirteenth century court physician to the Prince of Deheubarth, Rhys Grug. Their tradition continued until 1739 and the Red Book of Hergest, which records their remedies, is held out to be one of the most important Welsh manuscripts from the Medieval period. I couldn’t resist looking for an English translation.

We return via a local supermarket of our choice. This is the second time I have been in a shop since March 2020. I still have 1000 steps to hit my daily target, which I’ve maintained all year. It is now raining persistently. My options are to circle the site in the rain or to make myself look like an idiot jumping up and down by the cold counter in M********* whilst my companion loads up the yoghurt and milk. I’ve tried getting soaking wet doing laps of a caravan site before. Fun it is not. I go for surreptitious jogging as I examine tins of beans and load the bag at the checkout. Yay 1000 steps accomplished.

Welsh Adventures Part 1

by thehistoryinterpreter

Day 1 To Llanbrynmair

We leave in mist and showers and cross the Prince of Wales bridge, heading to mid-Wales. We pass Raglan Castle and encounter numerous tractors enroute as we drive into the iridescent green Welsh hills. It appears that every possible inch of Welsh road that could be being resurfaced is being resurfaced and stop-go boards abound. I am excited to see several red kites with their iconic forked tails.

We arrive at Gwern-y-Bwlch campsite. It is a pleasant site, snuggled in the forested hills. The only downside is that it has hot-spot only internet, which is why you will be reading this after our visit is over. At least this time I am prepared to be abandoned in a technological black hole. It seems that television signal is a challenge as well. Fortunately, the one side that is available is BBC, so Wimbledon watching is possible if you can accept a bit of buffering as an accompaniment. Having had a serious bout of insomnia the previous night, on arrival, I have a power nap, followed by an exploration of the site.

Day 2 The Centre for Alternative Technology

We have pre-booked entry to The Centre for Alternative Technology, which is a Unesco Biosphere, set up in a disused slate quarry near the River Dyfi. Apart from explanations of alternative energy sources and sustainable building, there are beautiful allotment-style gardens growing edible plants and wildflowers to create a diverse habitat.

Sarah takes us on a guided walk through the woodland, which is being managed as a native, broad-leafed habitat. This means that the rhododendrons have to be eradicated, as they discourage growth on the woodland floor. We call in at the café but its offerings, although delicious, are a little too ‘alternative’ for my meat and two veg loving companion.

Day 3 Coed y Brenin National Park

We are trying to avoid anywhere too peopley and to be outside as much as possible, so I have picked a National Park for today’s visit. This is of course Wales and outdoors means that we run the risk of getting wet. For some reason best known to no one at all, I haven’t brought any kind of coat with me. Fortunately, there are coats lurking in the caravan. I have a postcode for the car park for the National Park but finding it seems to be as fruitless a quest as our search for somewhere to park at the Savernake Forest last month. After driving up what almost certainly wasn’t actually a road, managing not to drive over a precipice when three-point turning and retracing our steps, we do find a locked gate to what looks like a car park. We drive on and find another car park, this time with a solid looking boulder blocking the entrance. This is definitely meant to be a car park. The clue is in the notice that says ‘do not linger in the car park’, along with ‘keep two metres apart’ etc.. This time, there is room to park on the accessible side of the boulder, even though that probably isn’t the car park, so we do.

The Coed y Brenin National Park consists of 9000 acres set in the Rhinog mountains. Allegedly, it was part of the historic Nannau Estate, founded in 1100 by Cadougan, Prince of Powys. We are encouraged to call at the state of the art, ‘green’ visitors’ centre. They must have done a good job of blending it into the landscape as it is nowhere to be seen.

This area is obviously designed for extreme off-road cycling and there are numerous cyclists hurtling down steep paths, to the detriment of brakes and tyres, if not life and limb. The routes have names like ‘The Beast’ and ‘The Minotaur’. Realistically, I accept that the seven mile ‘strenuous’ volcano walking trail is not for us. So we stroll along a wide, flattish cycle track (The Fox), alongside, dramatic, fast-running streams in a granite and slate-strewn landscape, managing to pick a dry spell between the showers to do so.

I may have left my coat at home but my travelling companion, who is chief in charge of food supplies, has neglected to put the mince beef in the caravan fridge. I am hoping he has left it in his own freezer, rather than defrosting somewhere in his kitchen. This means we need to find a shop, something, along with petrol stations, that have been conspicuous by their absence. The upside of this is that it takes us into the centre of Dolgellau, instead of bypassing it as we traverse up and down the A470. This is an attractive small town, with narrow streets and looming, grey, stone buildings. We identify a butcher as a likely source of mince. I wait in the car whilst my companion ventures forth. The time spent in making said purchase was probably long enough to lasso the animal in the field and carry out all necessary processes in between but mission accomplished. We arrive back to the van in time to see Emma Raduanou’s impressive third round Wimbledon victory.

Young Genealogists: what can YOU do to nurture the next generation of family historians?

by thehistoryinterpreter

Well, this isn’t the blog post that I was going to write. I was going to tell you about my second day at THE Genealogy Show and in part I still will but this needs saying and it needs saying now. At the show, I listened to Daniel’s presentation Genealogy from a Young Genealogist’s Perspective. In the second half, he challenges older family historians to make life easier for young genealogists, who have a number of barriers to participation. Not least of these is the attitude of some of those of more mature years in the genealogy community. Engaging younger family historians is something I have been advocating since I was just a few years older than Daniel and that’s quite a long time!

Family History and Local History is perceived as a hobby for the older generation. When I attended my first meeting in 1982, I was the youngest person there, probably by about thirty years. Sadly, here we are, forty years later and I am STILL in the younger 25% of attendees. There are certainly younger genealogists out there but family history societies have singularly failed to engage the under 40s, let alone the under 20s. Family historians are constantly bemoaning the fact that their children/grandchildren are not interested in their family history. Here is a revelation. In most cases, what family history societies and individuals have been doing to encourage younger people hasn’t worked up to now. If we carry on doing the same thing, guess what, it isn’t magically going to become engaging and relevant to younger people. Nothing is going to happen except that older family historians will die off, no one will be interested in taking over their research and it will become increasingly difficult to recruit members and officers to societies.

If we value our hobby and our own research, we have to be pro-active in order to broaden its appeal down the age range. We need to be inclusive and work to break down some of those barriers. It is our job to reach out, not the young genealogists’ task to scale those obstacles. Younger genealogists need a safe, affordable place to interact and to pursue OUR hobby, with acceptance and nurturing from more experienced genealogists. We need to understand that the GenZ genealogists (aged c.13-25) have a valuable contribution to make. They have knowledge and a thirst for more, they have energy, they have ideas. Family History Societies need to take advantage of this in a mutually beneficial relationship.

So what can you do, or what can you ask your society to do? How affordable is membership, could it be free for under 18s? The response, ‘We’ve never been asked for under 18s membership’, may be true but is not satisfactory. Free under 18 or student membership needs to be publicised loud and clear in a prominent place on the society website, perhaps with posters on display in places where young people are, or mentions in school and college newsletters. It is no good doing this until the society has something attractive to offer those young genealogists. Can you provide activities that would engage school and college goers? Could you stage events (virtual or in person), where entrance is dependent on bringing along someone under 25? Some societies have premises with access to the major data providers, can we welcome young people to take advantage of this? Not in a passive, ‘well we wouldn’t turn them away’ manner but by doing things to actively promote this in a safeguarding compliant way, at young person’s open day perhaps. Could each society seek out a young person’s advocate to join their committee, if only on an ad hoc/advisory basis? Needless to say that advocate has to be a young person.

So you have read this far and thought a) She is ranting again and b) I’m not on a committee what can I do? If you are a society member, you can make suggestions to your committee. If you are not associated with a society, you can still ensure that you make our hobby engaging and accessible to the young people around you, be that your family, youth groups, schools, or young people in your neighbourhood.

I have been saying this for so long. Young people are interested in family history, they are just not interested in doing it OUR WAY. It is up to US as individuals/societies/whatever to adapt and take our hobby to them where they are, not just carry on in the same old way and lament the absence of those young genealogist in our own milieu.

If you have the opportunity to listen to Daniel’s presentation, please do. It is worth the now reduced entrance fee to THE Genealogy Show on its own. Do something, or before long, your research, your society, our hobby, will be dust.

I had the pleasure of being interviewed by Daniel for his podcast last night but more of that another time. Do take a look at the activities of him and his Hidden Branch colleagues and let us ensure that the younger genealogists are no longer hidden.

429 1 Nov 2019
Posing as his 6 x great grandfather

This young man, now aged seven, is interested in his family history and is currently compiling a family history scrap book.