Yes, Yes, I know it is the end of Day 2 – give me a break, it’s pretty full on all this networking lark. For once no trolleys were harmed in the process of our Who Do You Think You Are? Live experiences (see previous blog post for links to further details). Today (that’s of course now yesterday) was my busy day. On arrival we were guided to a car park that was as far as possible from the hall as the NEC complex allowed and took the shuttle bus down the hill amidst many folk who looked like they were in for a fun day at some form of transport convention or what appeared to be an OFSTED conference.

I hastened to get my presentations uploaded ready for later in the day (Miss Efficiency me) and was flattered to be remembered from last year by one of the technicians. Then it was off to the experts’ advice tables. Always a good plan to offer to be an ‘expert’ as it does at least ensure that you are able to sit down. I did have one of those ‘arrgggh’ moments. My appointment sat down early for their twenty minute slot, as my previous satisfied customer had gone away early. ‘I don’t know anything about my great grandfather Joe Brown’ (the name has been changed to protect the guilty but it was an equally common name). A large sheaf of typescript, which appears to have been taken from Ancestry is proffered. This contains dates of birth, marriage and death, entries in every applicable census, parentage, spouse and offspring of the ancestor about which the enquirer ‘knows nothing.’ ‘It says here he was born on 6th January 1870’, say I, ‘where did you find this information, was it from the family?’ ‘Oh that’s definitely right.’ says the enquirer.  I pursue the named parents, finding their marriage index entry. I explain how to get a marriage certificate and how that should hopefully give Joe Brown’s grandfathers’ names. I find Joe Brown’s father in more than one census. I find Joe’s spouse’s line back to grandparents. ‘You haven’t told me anything about Joe,’ is the response. I point out what we had discovered. ‘Oh but I knew all that already.’ I gritted my teeth and resisted the temptation to point out that I had not only answered the question he had asked but also the question he should have asked – what more could be expected, great granddad’s shoe size? Well that was thirty minutes of my life wasted then.

Photo by Sheridan Parsons

It was then time for my first talk, twenty minutes on inspiring young children to take an interest in history and heritage. This session was the best kept secret of the convention, somehow having been left off the website and display boards. Nonetheless it did attract an audience of more than one and led to a very interesting contact. Then it was pretty much straight off to my full length presentation in the main studio. Mustering ‘rent a crowd’ is no longer possible now these sessions are charged for. Nor can you rely on acquiring an audience from those who need to rest their bunions after a long day on their feet, so I was worried about speaking to an empty hall.

Photo by John Boeren

In the end, this was a sell out session with over two hundred people who had parted with real cash in order to hear me talk about finding elusive ancestors. This included several friends who had turned out to support me – thank you. My worries that the audience would demand their money back if they couldn’t find their elusive ancestors by the end of the session were unfounded. I did explain that I had left my magic wand at home. Despite something very weird happening to the formatting of my slides as they translated to the double screen, the talk did seem to go done well and I had a large queue of questioners outside the studio afterwards.

On the strength of the book sales after my talk, I then invested in the most expensive bottle of water in the world, in the form of a ‘free’ gift as a recompense for purchasing a Living DNA kit. This involved a charming young man watched me scraping the surface off the inside of my cheek, all in the name of discovering where my geographical origins might be. At the end of a long day we joined in a world record attempt for how many people you can cram into a shuttle bus and then crawled along the motorway back to the caravan to collapse in preparation for doing it all again tomorrow.

After three hours of non-stop chatter on Friday, whilst single-handedly womaning the registration desk at the Guild of One-Name Studies conference, my errant voice had all but deserted me. This did not bode well for my presentation on Sunday. Cue throat sweet overdose. To be fair, there were others assigned to the registration desk but they were needed at the main reception to welcome folk in, leaving me to fling bags and badges at what seemed to be a never ending stream of delegates alone. I took a much needed break and attempted to learn more about autosomal DNA with Barbara Griffiths. Having been hard at work all day, we forewent the pleasure of one of Alan Moorhouse’s fiendish quizzes and repaired to the caravan.

Photo by Peter Hagger

The following day, it was back to the melee by 8am in order to greet the new day’s delegates. We were provided with our room ‘key’ (card), which bizarrely depicted Peppa Pig – nope, no idea. The chance to actually inspect said room was not forthcoming. During the AGM, I was surprised and honoured to be presented with a Guild ‘Award of Excellence’ for an article I had written about a member of the Braund family, whose census entries were an amazing work of fiction. I was very glad that fellow awardee, Marie Byatt, was also in the audience. At least this spared me from smiling inanely at the camera, clutching my award, on my own.

The first presentation of the day was Suzie Cox who told us about the archives of the P & O company. This was followed by Ian MacDonald’s story of the Mewburn family. I then chaired Kim Baldacchino’s session on the Navy in Malta. There’s another destination on the future holiday list then. The final presentation was by Michelle Patient from New Zealand, with some interesting insights on migration. The two hour special general meeting that followed meant that preparations for the banquet had to be swift and we finally got to inspect our room. We were provided with water (free) in an £8 bottle and a coffee making machine but no kettle. We never did tackle the learning curve that may have allowed us to boil water in order to a) fill a hot water bottle or b) dilute ginger cordial (good for non-existent voices). Despite leaving the banquet at what for most people would have been an early hour (the middle of the night by my estimation) sleep eluded me.

After no more than two hours sleep I was required to be alert and audible enough to give my own presentation. This actually seemed to go remarkably well (I did at least stay awake). I promised to pass on a few websites from the talk, although the complete handout can be accessed here. Three of my favourite finds were the British Southern Whale Fishery  database, with 13,500 entries from 1775-1859. The details are mainly taken from The National Archives’ Board of Trade records. Then there is the list of  Lost Trawlermen of Hull. Finally a record of Hastings’ fishermen, which not only provides a list from 1623 but also records nicknames of later fishermen. How do you fancy being related to these characters: Tambourine Jack Cobby, Hard Pudding White, Rum Cheese Tassell, Whip-me-naked Gallop or Licksnot Sutton? Bob Cumberbatch followed on with a session on Caribbean surnames. We then had video presentations from Peggy Chapman and Tessa Keough on Canadian and US records and the day ended with Jean-Marc Bazzoni entertaining us with tales of the London Dock Police. All in all another great weekend, the best part of which was the opportunity to be amongst friends.

Next up a couple of days’ rest. Rare is it that I can describe days with Edward as a ‘rest’ but sandwiched as they were between the conference and Who Do You Think You Are? Live, they did seem comparatively restful. So, I have helped to pitch tents, identified wildlife and spent a day at the Birmingham Think Tank. This was followed by a trip to L**l’s for supplies. A staff member trundled by with a large wire trolley full of yoghurts and other goods to be put on shelves. Regular readers will remember that Who Do You Think You Are? Live is, for us, not infrequently accompanied by wheels falling off things (see 2013 and 2014) and yes dear reader the wheel fell off this trolley leaving groceries descending or suspended precariously. A fisherman of my acquaintance leapt to the rescue and was to be seen supporting trolleys and grovelling on the floor trying to refix wheels. Meanwhile I continued shopping and attempted to remain unobtrusive. P.S. I am still shamelessly touting for an audience for my two Who Do You Think You Are? Live talks on Thursday, especially the one at 2.15 in the Education Zone, which does not yet appear in the programme – come and find out how to inspire young people to take an interest in history – this one is free!

Before anyone suggests that I am not wearing well, or wishes me Many Happy Returns (do people still say that?), I am, sadly, not celebrating my 40th birthday. This week I enter my fifth decade of serious family history research. It was March 1977 when I took myself off, alone, to Cornwall to visit my father’s ancestral village for the first time. I arrived by public transport at a B & B some six miles away. All I can remember about this was that the proprietor chatted incessantly about her late husband’s role with the electricity board. The next day was Sunday. Said small ancestral village not being overly well blessed with Sunday public transport links (there weren’t any) I decided I would walk. I am still of the opinion that Cornish miles are longer than those elsewhere. I plucked up courage to enter the local pub (think lone female, 1977, rural pub) and ask if there was anyone of my surname living locally. It turned out that half the village were related and I was ‘adopted’ by members of the family instantly. They even had a car to take me back to the B & B.

Forty years on and the family history world has changed beyond recognition, not always for the better. The hobby/obsession has shaped my leisure time, my friendships, my working and academic life. I am still of the opinion that an understanding of history is crucial to our well-being, both personally and as a nation, as a world. Only this week a ‘think tank’ (who no doubt were paid a small fortune to work this out) suggested that schools should teach children to recognise fake news. Schools have been doing this for centuries. The subject dear think tank is called history. It teaches the ability to evaluate sources, to recognise the role of propaganda, to think critically – or at least it should. The very personal brand of history that is family or community history, gives us a sense of self, a sense of place. ‘Lone Tester’ has just posted a very interesting blog entitled ‘Are you a Genealogist or a Family Historian?’ I have long-since realised that ‘genealogist’ and ‘family historian’ have different meanings in different parts of the globe and perhaps the way in which the terms are understood also varies according to how long an individual has been researching. To me, genealogy is the basic family tree and family history is the wonderful contextual background, setting those individuals on that family tree into their time and place.

Whilst on the subject of putting our ancestors in their place, I was pleased to see what a great job Family Tree Magazine made of my article on One-Place Studies in their latest issue – than you Family Tree Magazine.

…. and the latest in the ‘what does Janet not have wrong with her?’ saga – having been x-rayed last week, still no idea. Am I alone in thinking it ironic that I was greeted by the radiographer with ‘Hello, are you all right?’ I was tempted to reply ‘Yes, I’m in full health, I am just sitting around waiting to get zapped with radiation for the fun of the thing’.