Faint Passports Never Won – well, anything really – Isolation Day 65

One of the downsides of lockdown for me has been that I am unable to get out and about to share my love of all things historical with many wonderful people. It has been inevitable but sad, to watch one speaking engagement after another tumble like a domino rally. Fortunately, I am starting to replace some of these talks with online versions. A consequence of not meeting audiences in person is that I have lost one of my main book-selling opportunities. This is not just financially significant. In a couple of months, a pallet containing a very large number of boxes of novel number two will hopefully be landing on my driveway. I need to shift existing stock to make space. Oh, you want another clue? Happy to oblige, novel two includes little known facts about what is a fairly well-known local incident. Very soon there will be a title/cover reveal. The cover is amazing – thank you Robin of The Branch Line.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, selling books, or in this case, not selling as many books as I need to in the next three months in order to have any room whatsoever in my tiny cottage. In the past, I have added myself as a potential book seller on Amazon. I stopped doing this because it was a pain removing myself again on the many occasions when I was away from home. You can’t just leave the items up for sale as you have to be able to send out purchases within 48 hours. As it doesn’t look as if I will be going anywhere anytime soon, I thought I’d reactive my Amazon seller status. Well dear reader, how long have you got?

I suspect because the dreaded GDPR has loomed its ugly head since I was last a seller, I am required to jump through the hoop of proving I am a person and that I am actually me. I assure you I am me, although when I look in the mirror, I do wonder why I am my mother. ‘Send a copy of your passport’. Thankfully, I do have one. I photograph my passport. Maybe I didn’t get its best side or something but back comes the message ‘your details do not match, change your surname to FEWB’. Well the whole deed poll thing seems a bit unnecessary, especially as FEWB is not my name. Was three letters too short or something? My passport didn’t have a superfluous B on it. I heave myself off the chair and go to scan the passport instead, on the highest possible resolution. It takes ages, whirring merrily away. I now have a jpg (acceptable format) of two pages of passport when I require only one. It is also 11MB and the maximum I can upload is 10MB. Fine, I will edit it. I edit jpgs all the time. For some reason, which ever programme I choose, it will not let me edit the file. Eventually, I use my snipping tool to take a screen shot. Ok so the instructions do say ‘we cannot accept a screen shot’ but how will they know? I send it off. Back comes the message ‘your passport is too faint’. Too faint? Well that’s hardly my fault. I haven’t irresponsibly been leaving it to fade in high sunlight or anything. I click on the link for ‘if you are having trouble’ and compose a message expressing my frustration and seeking advice.

Time passes. The process has already been spread over two days and taken me a couple of hours to not sort. An email arrives. It sets out a carbon copy of what to do, exactly as it appears on the webpage where you upload faint passports. ‘Does this answer your question?’ they jovially ask. Well, errr, no. Then it occurs to a fisherman of my acquaintance that, although passports are mentioned, my driving licence contains similar information. Worth a shot. By this time, I really can’t face another journey upstairs to the scanner. In my defence, this is not the height of lockdown laziness (well not entirely) but my back does still prefer it if I don’t move from sitting to standing too often. No immediate rejection message. I cross my fingers. No ‘this has worked’ email either though. I wait. Finally, when lamenting my plight to a friend, she checks and discovers that there my books are there, happily listed, so it must have worked! Now all I need is people to buy them in droves and if that happens, people to donate recycled bubble wrap! Actually, if you are reading this, please don’t buy my books on Amazon at all, just contact me. It will cost you the same but it saves me a few pennies (actually quite a lot of pennies). A thousand sales before the end of July isn’t too much to hope for is it? Ok, so it is but I can dream.

What with this and the shopping order that mysteriously disappeared (long and really not very interesting story – even less interesting than the one you’ve just read), I am reluctant to face the next learning curve, which is finally giving in to entreaties to do my tax return online. I have no problem at all with completing it on paper and it would normally be done by now. This year however I have had a letter saying they are not going to send me a paper form. I do know, that if I ring up and wait on hold for a couple of hours (because my call is important to them), they will send a form but I am fairly proficient with online, I should be able to do it. Shouldn’t I?

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More Lockdown Ramblings – Isolation day 62

I am trying not to dwell on the fact that, right now, you should be reading day 4 of a month’s worth of daily holiday posts from Ireland. It is a bit difficult to make much newsworthy from life chez-moi. As mentioned in my previous post, I chose to honour my World War 2 ancestors on VE Day. As a family historian I was excited that my children and grandchildren did the same. All that indoctrination gentle persuasion must have worked. They had the advantage of places to display pictures and bunting that are visible from the road. Still, we did our best. Here are our collective family efforts.

In other other news, I have had to temporarily (who am I kidding?) abandon joining Joe Wicks for his daily P.E. sessions. Currently, I can barely move having done something to my back, possibly not as a result of doing star jumps and Pikachus (really best not to ask).

I have spent half my life on Zoom, including 24 hours (in two 12 hour stints) over a weekend, hosting a hastily arranged worldwide Braund family reunion. This wasn’t what we planned but had the huge advantage that those who could never attend our face-to-face gatherings were able to join in. We had 53 people from five countries drop in over the weekend, ranging in age from 1 to 80 something. I’ve also taken part in virtual coffee mornings, piano lessons, family history classes and author chats. It is a whole new world but one that we are adapting to. We even managed to get 8/9 family members on screen looking almost normal, well as normal as we get anyway. The 9th family member was present but was working from home at the time.

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The garden is coming on. The flower seeds seem to have been eaten but peas, beans and tomatoes have survived.  The cherry blossom and clematis have come and gone. Now we are enjoying the laburnum and guelder rose. The birds have been delightful, with Mr and Mrs Blue-tit currently feeding their brood. We also had a visit from a field mouse, who stayed around long enough to be photographed.

 

A Post for VE Day – Isolation Day 56

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Middle: Stan on the left and Leonard on the right

Bottom: Cyril and his medals

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay safe – until next time.

My Own Take on the Marathon #TwoPointSixChallenge

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

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

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

Here is Edward enjoying his time there last summer.

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If you go Down to the Woods (maintaining safe social distancing) – Isolation day 33

This week Edward decided that we should have a virtual Teddy Bears’ Picnic. This is a bit more involved than Peter’s request that we should all wear particular socks. Always up for a challenge we went into the garden, bashed the dust of ages off four generations worth of teddy bears and struggled to get them to sit up in the wind. We brought out plates, cups, food, drink and arranged them perfectly on an attractive daisy-strewn lawn. The occasion was snapped from all angles. We reversed the process, returning all the picnickers to their homes and various foodstuffs to the larder. It was then I realised that the memory card was not firmly in place in the camera and that I had no photos. My camera usually warns me but in the bright sun I couldn’t see the screen. The pictures may be preserved in the camera’s internal memory. I am sure I should still have the lead to connect camera to laptop. I unearthed every lead in the house but none would fit. There was nothing for it but to repeat the process once again. By this time the sun had moved round so the teddies moved to the patio. This did mean I could prop some of the wobbliest of their number up against a wall and Lovely Boy could toast invisible marshmallows, courtesy of part of our C17th kit. I won’t apologise for Gladly (the cross-eyed bear)’s inebriated state, at 95 I feel she can be excused! No social distancing as they are all from the same household. This is just a selection of the many photographs. Edward was thrilled that so many people joined in.

A request went out on Facebook for a picture of a dusty stone demi-john to use in a film shoot. Well my house is full of random stuff, so I was able to oblige, complete with an impressive amount of antique dust (I am pretty sure this hadn’t been dusted since before Christmas). I am now using that as an excuse, ‘of course I can’t possibly dust any of my possessions in case anyone wants to use them in a photo shoot’.

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In other matters, the zooming continues. Last night our local history group took the meeting online. Considering we were all still familiarising ourselves with the technology, it went quite well. The added advantage was that two members who did not live locally, one from Hampshire and one from New Zealand, were able to attend, even though it was 6am in New Zealand.

The latest gardening project is reinstating the gravel path that had becoming overgrown. This involves hand picking the stones from a mat of grass roots and weeds. This is startlingly reminiscent of the kind of tasks that might be required of workhouse residents in the past. It might be preferable to picking oakum but it is a close run thing.

On the subject of gardening, remember that family tree that I pruned a couple of weeks ago? Well, after careful reassessment, I have reinstated 9x great granddad. 9x great granny has been exchanged for a more plausible alternative (one who wasn’t dead when her child was born).

The novel is nearing completion. Hopefully, next time I post, I will be able to report that it is finished. If I am not distracted by gardening, zooming and piano playing of course (don’t mention the Cornish). A clue? You are welcome – the historical thread is set firmly in Mistress Agnes’ era, from the 1640s-1680s. The full list of clues revealed so far can be found here.

Zooming About – Isolation Day 29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Easter!

Pruning the Family Tree and other adventures – Day 19

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Getting Older and Learning Stuff (or not) – Day 17

“You’ve got all that time,” they said. “Why not learn something new?” Great. An opportunity to finally study Cornish. I have downloaded lesson one. There are 48 lessons. Lesson one will take me like about a year. At least. It is unbelievably complicated, especially for someone like me who has zero ability at languages. I passed French O level second time around. I even got a half decent grade but that was because the results were worked out on a curve of natural distribution and I was sitting it with all the others who had failed (remember the days when you could fail exams, instead of getting a grade 1 for putting your name on the paper?) the first time round. I did Latin for two years before it gave me up. It wasn’t even the sort of Latin that might be useful in an historical context and I have long since forgotten how to say, “take the spear to Caesar’s camp.” In my defence, when my daughter did French, I was amazed how much basic vocabulary I had retained after 2½ decades. This proved to be a disadvantage when we were in Canada as I could translate ‘Beware of’ but not the following word that specified the particular hazard, in this case deer, as I found out later. My one attempt to ask for directions in French was met with stony silence.

So what have I learnt today? The honest answer is nothing. The spelling is totally counter intuitive and apparently ‘mutates’ – please don’t ask. Oh, Hello is Dydh da. I will have forgotten that by tomorrow – or probably in about ten minutes time actually. Might do what I did when the children were learning to read and stick post-it notes on the furniture. The only consolation is that it makes learning the piano seem like child’s play. Now to remind myself how to spin.

Really pleased that there is a special version of the Christmas Puzzle to entertain us, though I am struggling to fit all these activities in.

So today I am a year older than I was yesterday. To be fair, my birthdays aren’t usually a riot of celebratory activity but under normal circumstances, I would be with one descendant or another. Martha had acquired yesterday’s shopping delivery for me. This meant that she had control of the list. When it arrived (with only one item missing) she had added in various birthday goodies: banners, a badge, balloons, party hats, daffodils.  We duly had a virtual cake cutting ceremony. This was in two parts as Edward couldn’t wait until afternoon for his cake. The grandchildren wore their party hats and helped me blow out candles.

Isolation Capers Two Weeks In – Day 14

We started early so today is day 14 for us. As the situation around us worsens, here are a selection of joyful moments.

The grandchildren have been participating in a Lego building challenge. Thursday (day 4) the challenge was the flag of your favourite country. I thought I’d cracked this with Libya.

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Turns out this is no longer Libya’s flag – drat.

We also had a family ‘wear your lobster socks to isolation’ day, which went well.

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Disclaimer – these are not my feet and legs

Given that the glorious weather (and goodness doesn’t it help) was not predicted to last, we went for outside activities. I managed to paint two bookcases and my co-isolatee has made good progress with the outside window frames. I am not close to running out of things for him to do (purely for his own benefit of course) any time soon.

Excited to receive my copy of Sara Read’s The Gossip. It is set in 1665 Could be topical.

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We did the clapping for the NHS thing. It seems so little but it helps us to do something and we are able to stay in, so that’s our greatest contribution. Inevitably, there is evidence that people have no idea what the word ‘essential’ means and they are going out unnecessarily.

Martha managed to get us a food delivery slot for Monday – yay! Won’t have to break open the six year old cream crackers yet.

I joined in a genealogy chat with some friends, mostly those in Australia and New Zealand, so it started at 7.30am but I can do 7.30am.

After many struggles, I managed (I hope) to upload my new One-Place Studies booklet Ten Steps to a One-Place Study, so it can be purchased from Amazon in a day or two. If you buy one and the formatting is weird please be gentle with me – it’s all a learning curve. I haven’t worked out how to download a copy of the cover, which I created on Amazon, that isn’t super fuzzy, so you will have to make do with the image that I used on the cover instead. When printers are up and running again, it will be possible to buy copies from me as well.

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