Autumn Thoughts

Firstly, I am delighted and amazed that my entry "How I Did It" has been picked as Journal entry of the month. Thanks to Jules for letting me know because I had no idea. It is a nice feeling and given me a real buzz.

The last Roses are blooming, a vivid splash of colour to brighten the fading leaves and withering Annuals

 

but now is the time for

 

I love the blaze of the berries and the turning of the leaves although this year the trees are holding their colour as it has been mild on the whole.  The first tinges of gold, brown and red are only just dancing around the fringes and I look forward to the full fiery display.

 

The Ice Plants are blooming late this year, too late for the Butterflies that love them but how we welcome any blooms in this darker season when the mornings are slow in awakening and the evenings draw in so quickly.

When I went into the garden yesterday to take these photographs, it was a lovely morning. sun crisp and bright, sky light blue.  The grass was wet with dew and looked as if it had been tipped with silver. There was a smell to the air that you only get in Autumn.  A smell of damp earth, dying vegetation and yet freshness. You really cannot put it into words but Autumn has a scent all of its own.  As I stood there looking around, it  took me back many many years to when I was a very young child and to the nature table we had at school.  There was always a nature table in those days (I wonder if they still have them nowadays?).  It would be at the front of the class on one side of the teacher, a long wooden table.  There was always a vase of something in the middle. In the Spring it would be Pussy Willow or Daffodils, in Summer, Roses. Autumn brought sprays of Berries and Winter nearly always Holly.  In Spring there would also be an aquarium where we watched the Tadpoles develop their legs and gradually , so gradually turn into minatureFrogs. Children had to collect things for the nature table and we vied with each other as to whom could find the brightest and biggest Autumn leaf, the reddest and shiniest Conker. We were encouraged to look at nature and find things for ourselves.  Maybe that is where my love of Flora came from.  I would walk to school on misty Autumn mornings looking in hedges, even in gutters for fallen leaves, examining trees and plants to see what I could find as my offering.

Most of all I loved the Spider's webs.  Hung with thousands of crystal droplets that shimmered in the weak sunshine like so many diamonds or stars that the dew had formed.  They were magical to me as were, later on, when winter came, the snowflakes that we caught on black pieces of cloth and looked at through magnifying glasses. No two crystals the same and patterns so delicate and intricate it took your breath away.

So, the seasons change as the world revolves and we revolve with it, yet mother nature always gives us something. Even on the darkest, gloomiest and often wettest day, you can see something, some little spark of beauty that enhances all our lives. I always take the time to stop and look. In a sad world, beauty is precious.

Joke

Two young priests decide to go on vacation to Hawaii.

They're determined to make this a real vacation by not wearing anything that will identify them as clergy. As soon as the plane lands, they head for a store and buy some really outrageous shorts, shirts, sandals and sunglasses.

The next morning, they go to the beach dressed in their "tourist" garb. They're sitting on beach chairs, enjoying drinks, sunshine and scenery.

Suddenly a drop-dead gorgeous big breasted blonde comes walking by.  She is topless and wearing only a thong. She heads straight towards them.  They cannot help but stare.

As the blonde passes them, she smiles and says "Good Morning Father" and "Good Morning to you too, Father."  The priests are dumbfounded.  How in the world does she know they are priests?

The next day, they go back to the store and buy even more outrageous outfits - Speedo bikini briefs in day-glo orange, purple wigs, massive gold chains - things so loud you can hear them before you even see them.

The two priests again settle on the beach in their chairs. Soon, the same stunning blonde, wearing only a strategic thong, sashays up the beach towards them.  Again she nods at each one of them and says "Good Morning Fathers" and starts to walk away.

One of the priests cannot stand it any longer and calls out "Just a minute young lady.  We are priests and proud of it, but I have to know - dressed as we are, how in the world do you know that we are priests?"

The blonde replies:-

"Easy Father Bill, it's me - Sister Mary Frances!"

For My Father

Following on from yesterday's entry:-

 

FOR MY FATHER

So much I've learned across the years
Of pain and hardship, joy and and tears
Yet now I find I'm learning still
And realize I always will.

You taught me well about life's school
And how to be nobody's fool
Your guidance lingers wth me yet
Your teaching I cannot forget.

You were so full of wisdom
And strength and truth and pride
You showed me how to use my gifts
And you fought on my side.

You made me see and understand
That if I made a gain
Hard work would be the price to pay
And strength would withstand pain.

I miss the talks I shared with you,
I miss your secret smile
I'd steal the sun, the stars, the moon
To have you back awhile.

Yet I am not without you
Your spirit is around
Giving me the courage now
To stand and hold my ground.

For everything you taught me
I hold and use it still
However hard the going gets,
Through you, I always will.

 

People think I look like my Dad. I leave it to you, dear readers, to decide if you agree.

Family Photos

 

I find this family photo charming.  It is not a mother and her sons, it is in fact my Father (on the left) his sister Lilian and brother Frank on the right.

The photo was taken in York in 1917.  I wish I had asked my Father about his life then and where exactly he went to school.

Dad would have been twelve, Lilian twenty-four and Frank fourteen. Lilian was, in fact, their first school teacher as she was an Army Schoolmistress. Through her,  they were already quite advanced in learning before they attended school and my father always said that he owed much to her. Always known as Lily, she worked many years abroad with the army. She married overseas and had a daughter, Marjorie and a baby son John.  Sadly her husband, who was a geologist, was killed in a motor cylce accident and baby John died just two weeks later and they are both buried in Egypt.  She later married the love of her life, Frank, who was serving in the Highland Light Infantry, when they were both in India and they had a son and daughter together. They were a wonderful couple, always so happy and cheerful. Frank was a great story-teller. They had a long and happy marriage.  Alas, a while after her death, Frank met a "lady" at the Pensioner's club he used to attend. By then he was frail and his mind was going.  Anyway somehow she talked him into marriage which split him from his two children.  After Frank died, she took all the family photos, all the diaries that Lily had kept since a child including the ones about the family during their stay on Bermuda and made a huge bonfire of the lot. Priceless family photographs and documents destroyed for ever, including one of my Father and Frank in full Highland dress.

Before the family settled in York, Dad spent a wonderful part of his childhood in Bermuda.  Not only did he love the tropical weather but he became a very proficient swimmer through diving with the Bermudian boys for pearls.  He nearly met his end when he was stung by a venomous jellyfish.  The doctor despaired but Dad's life was saved by his Bermudian "nanny" who used her own concoctions of herbs - both drunk and applied and saved his life.

Dad left school at fourteen and must then have left York and stayed with a family member in the South of England because he commenced working in London at that age, starting as an office and messenger boy, eventually working up to Manager and then becoming a partner in the firm. He worked for the same firm for sixty years.  He was a keen athlete, not only swimming but also playing cricket and taking part in walking races.

 

The above photo is of Dad taken when he was 20 years old.  I only have a photo-copy. The Ladies adored him  ( no wonder my Mum fell for him, I think he was very handsome) but he was extremely shy with women.  Five years after this photograph was taken he met and married my Mother.  Quite a romantic story.  She was the manageress of the fruit stall on Liverpool Street Station.  I do not know where Dad was lodging at the time but his office was very close to the Station and he must have gone to catch the underground train to get home.  He was with a workmate who fancied an apple so over to the stall they went. Thus Dad had his first sight of Mum and he must have been smitten because the following night he went back to buy apples and the night after that and ........... Eventually Mum had to speak up and comment on how many apples he bought and how he loved his fruit. He replied that it was her that he loved and plucked up the courage to ask her out.  He had previously been pushed into an engagement by his family that did not last. She had been engaged for six years to a man who would not set the date because of "his mother who might get upset".  Anyway within a week she had broken off her engagement to the other man.  Six weeks later, Mum got fired from her job.  The owner of the stall had wandering hands and having tried it on once to often with my mother, she socked him in the eye!!!!! Mum waited for Dad at the station and they decided he would take her home on the bus (completely in the other direction that he had to go).  They sat on the upper deck of the bus, the rain was pouring outside and Mum burst into tears. She was worried what her family would say about her being fired as she was still contributing to the family income.  She said she would have to find another job and quickly.  Dad told her not to bother. "You are marryingme, he said, and will not have to work".  So in six weeks they were engaged and married not long afterwards.  They had almost fifty one years together before he lost her.  He survived another five years but was a broken man, developed Alzheimer's disease and passed away on Boxing Day, the day after her Birthday which was Christmas Day.

During the WW2, he was at first an Air Raid Warden but on being called up he became an anti-aircraft gunner with the Royal Artillery and attained the rank of Sergeant.  Part of a mobile unit they travelled around the British Isles wherever they were most needed.  No proper recognition has ever been given to Ack-Ack crews who did such sterling work for Britain.  Due to the constant sound of the guns, Dad went completely deaf in one ear. Mum and Dad were separated for the whole of the war and only saw each other when he came home on leave.  She had to raise my two brothers single handedly.

He was a wonderful father, although he worked long hours so I did not get to spend as much time with him when I was little as I would have liked to.  He was intelligent, witty and kind. Always shy in company but people could always go to him for advice and for help.  He taught me many valuable things about life.  He encouraged me in everything. He was very wise and talked good common sense. His friends stuck with him all his life and the church was packed for his funeral.  I am so proud that he was my Dad and I miss him very much.

Bush and Kerry

 

This is an article that appeared in our local evening newspaper and may be of interest to all my American friends.

BUSH AND KERRY ARE SONS OF WICKFORD!

If you've ever wondered what the mysterious W in George W. Bush's name stands for, consider this possibility: Wickford.

All right, then, it might not be (it is, in fact, Walker) - but the American President does have some surprising connections to the south Essex town. (Wickford is about ten miles from where I live).

And it gets better, it turns out his presidential election rival, Senator John Kerry, is a distant relative of his and also has ancestral ties to Essex.

Both family trees reveal links to a gentry family in Wickford dating back to the 17th century.

Ground-breaking research by an American genealogist, Gary Boyd Roberts, has revealed the pair, who are currently fighting the US election are ninth cousins, twice removed.

Their common ancestor was a member of the minor gentry called Edmund Reade, who was born and died in Wickford.

Public records reveal that Edmund Reade was born in 1563 and died in 1623 after fathering two sons who are both believed to have died young, and two daughters.

After his death, his daughters, Elizabeth and Margaret, sailed to New England with their mother in the 1630's.

Both married into powerful families, Winthrop and Lake, who eventually produced the two presidential candidates.

Sarah Dickie, an archivist at Essex Records Office, said the records of the Reade family made his relationship to the two candidates possible.

She said "The facts do look to add up.  Of course, there are bits and pieces that don't match, but that could be due to lots of reasons.

In a book we published, which looks at the Essex immigration to the US in the 17th century, we have a piece about Elizabeth Reade, daughter of Edmund Reade, who married John Winthrop in 1635."

Mr. Roberts, speaking from Massachusetts, said the results of his research were not entirely surprising.  He said "News that Bush and Kerry are related does not cause a stir in this country."

Mr. Kerry's father's family were Jews from the Austro-Hungarian empire who changed their name from Kohn to Kerry before emigrating to America in 1904.

Mr. Bush son of a former president and grandson of a senator, can trace his family to the Mayflower immigrants and to some of the oldest families in the country.

The Wickford connection is the closest bloodline linking the candidates, but they have seven other common ancestors.

HOW THEY ARE RELATED

George Bush and John Kerry are officially ninth cousins, twice removed.  This means they share the same two great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents and their ancestors.

*Taken from the Echo, Wednesday 22nd September and written by Kate McGrath*

 

 

To All Of You

I can hardly believe that yesterday my counter topped the 2,500 mark. When I started my journal, just a little over two months ago, I seriously did not think that anything I would write would be of interest to anybody. After about three entries I had almost decided to give it up but with the help and encouragement of other journal keepers I decided to stay and I am so glad I did.  I have made contact with some wonderful people and read some great blogs. So, to all who visit and especially to my regular readers, a big

 

             THANK YOU!

                

                   

To everyone of you, please accept my gratitude and take one of these each.

                                             

 

 

 

William's Wife

She has a nice face doesn't she? - wistful and sad. Well, she had good reason to be sad but, believe me, she was a tartar!!! She tore her family apart with her evil tongue and her lies.

When I think how lovingly I was able to write about my other Grandmother and her house, it saddens me to think that I can only remember this Grandmother with fear.

Her name was Lily. Well, that is what she put on her marriage certificate. Through research I later found out that her name was Lilly Mary. However, to her children and everyone else in the family she was "Mater".  Her Mother was Mary D who had come from a wealthy Irish Catholic family who owned a large factory and employed several servants.  Mary was always rebellious. Horror of horrors, she met and fell in love with an English soldier who was a protestant.  She was only sixteen at the time. Despite the pleadings of her priest and her family she ran off to join him and was excommunicated from the Church and disowned and disinherited by her family.  That lady certainly sacrificed much for love.  However, she retained her ladylike ways (difficult as an army wife) and passed  these on to Lily.

Lily probably met Grandfather William at an army base. Her father, George was stationed at the same camp and there would have been many chances for them to get to know each other.

I believe that it was while William was still in South Africa that the tragic event occured that was the start of her turning into a bitter and twisted woman. Her eldest son, George William met a terrible fate and it was largely her fault.  They had employed a young servant girl at the time which was common in their circumstances.  Whether she had left or was away or  had been dismissed is not known but one December morning in 1902, Lily, who never liked to get her hands dirty, decided to call for young George and tell him to go and start the fire and make some tea.  I cannot describe the army house because I know nothing of it . Perhaps the kettle was hung over the fire to boil.  Anyway, George had difficulty in getting the fire to ignite and used the bellows.  Something must have gone badly wrong because his linennightshirt.caught fire.  Instead of screaming for help, George walked back up the stairs to get to his mother's room.  His sisters, Lilian and Beatrix were sleeping in a room directly opposite the top of the stairs. They always kept their door open.  Beatrix was awake.  She called to Lilian "wake up Lily, there is an angel on the landing".  What she had seen of course was ten year old George blazing from head to foot. Lily woke and, being the eldest, immediately realised what this apparition was.  She ran screaming to her Mother and between them they threw a blanket around him and rolled him on the floor to extinguish the flames. Poor George, little could be done for severe burns in those days except giving doses of Laudanum.  His suffering came to an end 24 hours later.

George William - taken the year of his death.

News was immediately dispatched to Grandfather in South Africa but he was on his way home by then.  Heaven knows the agony he must have experienced when he arrived home to find his eldest and, at that time, only son, dead and his wife in a state of collapse.  I have tried to make allowances for Lily because this has to be the worst thing any mother could face.

It definitely put a wedge between my Grandparents.  In his heart I think William blamed her as well.  They went on to have four more sons who survived, plus stillborn twins and several miscarriages.  With each birth Lily became more and more possessive of them and yet left their care to others. She would sit by the window, from where she could see George's grave, and wail for hours.  The doctor said unless she was removed from there he feared for her sanity - so Grandfather transferred them to another part of the camp.

I think it was one of the reasons why Grandfather eventually took the family to Bermuda.  She was in her element there, like her Mother had been years before, she was surrounded by servants and never had to lift a finger.

In middle years, disaster struck again.  She was involved in a car accident , the year would have been around 1935.  She had a leg badly smashed but she was alsoin a coma for threeweeks and it was feared she would never wake.  She eventually recovered but the smashed leg did not.  It was several inches shorter than the other one and from then on she had to wear a caliper and use a walking stick.  This only made her even more bitter.

She opposed each of her children's marriages and tried to wreck every one.  Beatrix, her second daughter, hated her. She blamed her for George's death and could not stand her tyrannical attitude.  She left home at the earliest possible opportunity and had little contact with her Mother ever again.

When Grandfather was very ill, long before his death, Mater would have nothing to do with him.  As the elder children had flown the nest, it was left to my Father, aged only fourteen and the baby of the family, to feed him and care for him. He had already developed a great fear of fire, because of what happened to George, and he has passed this on to me.

So, Mater would arrive at the house of one of her children.  No announcement, she would just arrive.  A furniture van with all her belongings would pull up outside the house and she would demand that whatever son or, often daughter Lilian, empty a whole room of their belongings and she would then have her stuff moved in.  She stayed as long as she wished, sometimes months and sometimes years causing nearly the breakup of each marriage in the process.  Eventually they could stand no more and  would ask her to leave.  She would then move on to the next child and there proceed to tell how she had been beaten, starved and abused by the previous one.  She was a very plausible woman was Mater and had a way of making you believe her.  So eventually all the brothers stopped talking to each other and the whole family was torn apart. From what had been a close knit band of brothers, little was left.  Eventually Harry was not talking to Syd, Syd was not talking to Frank, Frank was not talking to Lily or Harry or Syd.  So it went.

Eventually Syd, Frank and Lily washed their hands of her.  It is understandable.

My Father had always despised his Mother for all the reasons given above. Nevertheless, one day the van drew up outside our house. Dad was a gentleman in every sense of the word and wouldnot turn her away.  This caused immediate tension between my parents.  Of all the marriages Mater had opposed, their marriage was the one that really galled her.  My mother was an East End Cockney and far too beneath her son.  My mother followed the latest fashions and coloured her hair. To Mater she was beyond the pale, she considered her little better than a prostitute, more so because Mum had been engaged before.  Yet, Mum welcomed her, ready to forgive and forget.  Mater took over our main front room and we were forced to live in the smaller room. Things went on for a while, an uneasy truce you might say.

Matters came to a head when I was about four and a half.  We had a large hall in that house, it was really like a room in itself which, just by the stairs, narrowed into a short corridor that led to the kitchen.  So the hall was where my beloved rocking horse was kept and I spent hours and hours riding on him.  Mum had told me always to be quiet outside the door of "Mater's room" (our room) but a child is a child and one day I had been riding my horse, got bored and began skipping up and down the hall singing to myself.  The door flew open, out came Mater.  She grabbed my arm with a grip of iron making me scream with the pain, raised her stick above her head to bring it down and me and shouting that I was a "hideous little brat who should have been drowned at birth". Mum came running at my scream.  She grabbed the stick and pushed Mater back into the room, slamming the door. It took a long time for her to calm me down.

That evening Dad returned from work and Mum told him what had happened.  He disappeared into Mater's room and a loud argument ensued.  I heard it all going on, lying trembling in my room.  He must have asked her to leave.  Then he came back into the hall and I heard him say "If you are here tomorrow when I get home, I will bodily throw you out myself".  Mater departed the next morning. She went back to York where she told Syd horrible tales of how we had mistreated her!!

We never saw her again.  In fact, she had been dead and buried for two years before Dad found out she had even died. That is how much she destroyed the family.  His reaction on eventually hearing the news was "good riddance". His dislike for her must have gone so deep, because Dad was normally the kindest man you could ever wish to meet, always helping others.

 To this day, most of my male cousins will not speak to me or have contact with me, although two female cousins, one a daughter of Harry and the other a daughter of Syd are in regular contact.  To think that one person could cause harm so deep it still echoes down through the years.

So, from a large and once close family only Dad and Frank still spoke to each other. When Frank died in his early sixties,Dad had no more contact with any of his family except his sister, Lilian, whom he adored.  He was not told of the death of any of his brothers (he outlived them all) but he was very upset at the death of Lilian and did attend her burial. When he , in the course of time ,died none of his nieces and nephews attended his funeral.

Mater eventually died in Liverpool in her nineties.  She lived out her last years with eldest son, Harry.

It is sad that I can write nothing good about her.  She must have been pretty judging by her photograph and I think in her early days she must even have been fun.  However, it is very difficult to love someone who caused so much damage and who frightened me so badly.  I am older and wiser now and I do think that her brain was affected by the death of George and then her accident.  I think she became so totally possessive of her other children she just could not let go. She also hated to see them happy with their wives and children.

Poor Mater, how different things might have been if life had taken a different turn.  Anyway, I hope she has found peace now.

Proud Of Him

Of all the family photos I possess, I think this is the one I am most proud of.  In fact, Mike had it greatly enlarged for me and put in a beautiful elborate dark wood frame where it has pride of place in our hall.

Meet my paternal Grandfather

His name was William F - yes both my Grandfathers were named William.

This photograph was taken on the occasion of him attaining the rank of Sergeant and just prior to his marriage in 1888. He enlisted into the army at the age of fifteen as a bugler. He is described as being under five feet tall at the time with a fair complexion, blue eyes and light brown hair. He was born in Hampshire, the son of retired soldier.

He eventually became Company Sergeant Major and served in both Egypt and South Africa along with other places.  He took part in the Nile Expedition. There had been an Islamic revolt led by the Mahdi.  To cut a long story short and avoid a history lesson, Major-General Charles Gordon had been sent to Khartoum (Gordon of Khartoum) and was to oversee the evacuation of the Sudan.  He decided instead to stay and defend the Sudanese capital where he was besieged by the Mahdi's forces.  Britain was forced to organise a relief expedition to rescue Gordon and this was the Nile Expedition.

Grandfather was part of a desert column travelling overland rather than up the Nile in order to reach Gordon faster. This was a much more dangerous route and in 1885 this column was attacked by the Mahdists at Abu Klea.  Winston Churchill later stated that the battle of Abu Klea was "the most savage and bloody action ever fought in the Sudan by British Troops". The column reached Khartoum just two days too late as Gordon had been killed and Khartoum had fallen.

It was whilst returning that William's platoon got hopelessly lost in the desert for around ten days.  Due to the stress his hair turned pure white and from that time on he was known affectionaly as "Pop" by all the troops.

He was in the Boer War along with half-brothers John and Ernest A and his father-in-law, George H. It is believed his brother, Robert, was killed there or died of disease (disease actually carried off more men than battle) but this has yet to be proved.

He met Winston Churchill on more than one occasion. In fact Churchill once got him into a great deal of trouble.  Grandfather had overseen the grooming and preparing of all the horses as some "bigwigs" were visiting and there was going to be a grand parade.  The horses were all ready and tethered when, for a prank, Churchill decided to let them all loose. Horses went off in all directions and Grandfather got the blame until Churchill owned up!!!  I am assured that this story is true.

William also once had the job of escorting Lady  Randolph Churchill, the mother of Winston, when she went out to South Africa to watch over her son who was a War Correspondent at the time.  Grandfather said he was glad to see the back of her because she never stopped talking or complaining.  My Dad got this story directly from William.

He was also taken prisoner once whilst in South Africa along with quite a few of the men.  William was a Mason and by a stroke of luck, the Boer Commander was also a Mason.  As Masons help each other, instead of holding them, the Commander stripped them off their weapons, their horses and their boots and they had to walk barefoot back to their own lines.  War was conducted, it seems, in a more gentlemanly way in those times.

William received the following medals:-

Egyptian Medal with Clasp (Tel-El-Kebir), Egyptian Bronze Medal with clasps(Nile and Abu Klea), Queen's South Africa Medal with clasps (Ladysmith and Laing's Nek), King's South Africa Medal with clasps (Tegula Heights, Cape Colony, Orange Free State, Transvaal) and the Long Service and Good Conduct medals.

He later took his family to Bermuda (where his Father, James, had been stationed ) where he took charge of the military stables there until the outbreak of the first World War.

He is a man I would so dearly loved to have met.  Unfortunately he died many years before I was born. How I would have loved to sit with him and listen to his tales, I would never have tired of it.  He was a strict man but popular with the men and always fair.

He retired to York where he died at the age of only 58. His death certificate states "suddenly in a fit of apoplexy and that his military service abroad contributed to his death."

He had apparently requested that, on his death, he was to be buried back in Hampshire near the grave of his parents. His wishes were carried out and he had a military funeral. 

P.S. Just as I finished writing this the biggest Red Admiral butterfly you ever saw suddenly appeared in the room. Very strange because all our doors and windows are shut due to the bad weather and there was no butterfly in here when I started. It landed directly on the computer screen out of nowhere.   I think Grandfather is pleased I did this entry - I can think of no other explanation.  Mike released it into the garden. I am always getting these strange things happening to me. You might think there is a "normal" explanation. But let me tell you that I put the cleaner around quite late last night because our dogs are moulting heavily and because the room needed it (I spend too long on here).  I did not only the floor but the corners and the curtains. No butterfly.  The room was closed up all night and no doors and windows to the outside were open today.  Also, it did not fly around the room, it was just there on my computer screen!!! I have never seen one the size of it.  So, I discount nothing.  I have seen butterflies before when writing about ancestors or doing my family tree and sometimes when I have been writing about my supernatural experiences. Also, although the photograph is Sepia, Grandfather's jacket was actually red.

FUNNIES

Something different from me today.  These appeared in the Daily Mail last week, sent into the newspaper by one Duncan Mountford. I thought them so amusing I decided to post them for all of you who did not see them.

The following statements about the Bible were written by children in a school test.

1.  In the first book of the Bible, Guinessis, God got tired of creating the world so he took the day off.

2.  Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. Noah's wife was called Joan of Ark.  Noah built an ark and the animals came on in pears.

3.  Lot's wife was a pillar of salt during the day, but a ball of fire during the night.

4.  The Jews were a proud people and throughout history they had trouble with unsympathetic Genitals.

5.  Sampson was a strongeman who let himself be led astray by a Jezebel like Delilah.

6.  Sampson slayed the Phillistines with the axe of the Apostles.

7.  The Egyptians were all drowned in the dessert. Afterwards, Moses went up Mount Cyanide to get the ten commandments.

8.  The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple.

9.  The seventh commandment is thou shalt not admit adultery.

10. Moses died before he reached Canada.

11. The greatest miracle in the Bible is when Joshua told his son to stand still and he obeyed him.

12. David was a Hebrew king who was skilled at playing the liar.

13. Solomon, one of David's sons, had 300 wives and 700 porcupines.

14. When Mary heard she was the mother of Jesus, she sang the Magna Carta.

15. Jesus was born because Mary had an immaculate contraption.

16. St. John the blacksmith dumped water on his head.

17. It was a miracle when Jesus rose from the dead and managed to get the tombstone off the entrance.

18. The people who followed the lord were called the twelve decibels.

19. St. Paul preached holy acrimony, which is another name for marriage.

20. Christians have only one spouse.  This is called monotony.

 

How I Did It (He Started It - 2)

So, how did I trace Johnny A. and his connection to my family?  When Dad quoted "Grandfather's Half-Brother's Son" was he talking about my Grandfather or his Grandfather? Only time would tell.

I only knew the name of my Great-Grandfather, James, and the regiment he served in - The Cameronians (badge pictured) but I took the chance and applied for his army papers hoping to glean much more information. Alas, they proved to be very basic giving only his place of birth (Kilmarnock), his age on enlistment and his trade at the time.  No family details and no next-of-kin mentioned.  I could only conclude that the papers were incomplete as the army would have needed a relation in the event of death from disease or in battle.  However, I was able to work out from the papers, the length of time he served and therefore his age at discharge together with the place of discharge.

This is where sometimes intuition comes in. I was almost certain that James never returned to Scotland and, as my Father had never mentioned him, I felt he had to have died relatively young.  As he had been discharged in Hampshire and my Grandfather had been born there I was convinced this is where James must have died.  So I began a 20 year search from the date of his discharge anywhere in the Hampshire area.  There was one James F who might have fitted the bill but I could not be sure until I took the chance and sent for the death certificate.  Success!!  When it arrived it was the correct person.  It not only stated that he was an army pensioner but stated the regiment in which he had served.  Further proof appeared under "present at death".  The person present was Mary F (My Grandfather's sister) and James's daughter.  Sadly, there were no details of any wife.  However, I did have a death date and a place - Southsea, Hampshire.  As burials usually take place 3/4 days after death I decided to contact the Cemeteries Department of the Hampshire County Council in the vague hope that they might still have some record.

I was amazed when, two days later, they actually telephoned me to say that they had found the burial and gave me the name of the cemetery and the grave number!  This is where one of those amazing strokes of luck came in, I was asked whether I wanted his wife's details as she had been buried in the same grave two years later!!!! Not only that but they had the burial of a William F - this turned out to be my Grandfather and completely stunned me because I had thought he was buried in York where he died and certainly not in Hampshire.  So that one letter netted me such a lot of information.  Anyway, they were able to tell me that James's wife was named Elizabeth and the date of her burial.

Armed with this information I applied for the death certificate of Elizabeth F fully expecting the "present at death" to be once again, daughter Mary F. Imagine my shock and surprise when the name turned out not to be Mary F but Elizabeth Mc.  It rocked me for a moment but then I supposed that James and Elizabeth must have had another daughter and my Grandfather another sister and as her surname was Mc. she must have married.

I went to the 1881 census and did a search for an Elizabeth Mc.  I was lucky to find the family living at an army Barracks.  There was Elizabeth Mc, her husband Alexander, several children and right at the bottom, listed as living with them, was Great-Grandmother Elizabeth F - a widow.  Then I really knew I was on the right lines and my excitement started to grow.  The next step was obvious to me - to apply for the marriage certificate of Elizabeth Mc and Alexander.  I really did not know what to expect although I assumed that the certificate would confirm that Elizabeth was formerly Elizabeth F.  A week later the certificate arrived. I yelled and jumped up in the air.  For it clearly stated on the certificate that Elizabeth was not Elizabeth F on her marriage but Elizabeth A!!!!!  At last I was on the way to solving the riddle. One of the witnesses was Great-Grandfather, James. The certificate also stated that her Father was John A, of the Cameronian Regiment.

The answer was obvious - Great-Grandmother had been married twice thus having one daughter called Elizabeth A and one called Mary F.  My next step was to contact the Cameronian Regimental Museum requesting any information they had as to the whereabouts of the Regiment during the time my GGF James was serving.  They sent me lots of material and from that I found that the regiment had served in Bermuda for five years prior to their return to England and my GGF's subsequent discharge.

I surfed the net for information about Bermuda and found the address of the Bermuda Archives.  I wrote off to them explaining what I was seeking and whether they could help in any way with a James F or a John A.  A few weeks went by before I received a reply saying they could not help with James F but there was a John A buried in one of the military cemeteries on Bermuda.  I felt this had to be GGM's first husband. 

I proceeded by trying to find the marriage certificate of Elizabeth to John A.  No luck  but I did succeed with the birth certificates of their children thanks to a friend of mine looking up births in the Cameronian Regiment held in London.  Four known, Elizabeth who became Elizabeth Mc, another John and two James's.  People often named another child after one who had already died in those days.  I decided to try and find out more about Elizabeth's brother - John yet again.  To cut a long story short or this would turn into a book, I was able to ascertain that he became Bandmaster with the Border Regiment.

Back to the 1881 census.  I desperately hoped that he would be in England at the time and not stationed abroad.  Success again - I found him and his wife, Hannah, living at an army camp with their two sons - MY Johnny A and his brother Ernest.  Then something dredged up through my sub-conscious.  I remembered overhearing my Father once mentioning to my brother, The Duke of York's Royal Military School.  I took another chance and wrote off to the Bursar asking if they had any records of either Johnny or Ernest.  They had nothing on John but they did find amongst their old records an application for admission on behalf of Ernest into the Royal Military Asylum (The original name of the Duke of York's Royal Military School) and said they would send it to me.  So I obtained the final proof, not that I needed it by that time.  The application had been completed by my Grandfather, William who stated that as the boy's parents were both dead he was elligible to be accepted and stating that he was their Guardian and their Uncle!!!

This proved beyond any doubt that the John A , Bandmaster of the Border Regiment, and my Grandfather, Wiliam F of the Army Service Corps were indeed half-brothers!!My GGM had buried her first husband John A, he of the Cameronians and by whom she had four children, on Bermuda.  In fact he was only one of three soldiers to die of Yellow Fever in the outbreak that swept Bermuda (I subsequently found a picture of his grave on Google). Then, when the regiment returned to England she married my GGF James F and had three more children by him. John and James were both in the Band of the Cameronians and it is believed that they were good friends.

Thus my Father was completely correct.  Johnny A was Grandfather's Half-Brother's Son just as he had stated to me all those years ago.  How I wish he had lived to see and enjoy the information I had uncovered.

I later went on to find the complete story of my Johnny A from his birth to his death and by putting a message on the Internet about brother Ernest, I was contacted several months later by his Grand-daughter who has supplied me with much more information.  Sadly, Ernest committed suicide in South Africa at the age of 31.

So that is the story of how I cracked a mystery that others had failed to do.  My family search was difficult because nearly all the men were military and regiments moved around so much.  I told you that GGM Elizabeth had four children - well those four children were born in Ireland, Gibraltar, Canada and Bermuda!!  Non-military families are much easier.

Of course there were many more letters and phone calls involved, hours trawling the net and going through census records but I have abbreviated the story quite a lot to save you all falling asleep!!

 

Tips On Research

Before I tell you just exactly how I traced Johnny A and his connection to our family, here are some tips for all you budding family historians out there.

1.  Always begin with yourself, your partner, children etc. and enter all details.

2.  Then your parents if living.  If they are not ask any brothers of sisters of theirs for any information they might have, any names they remember, any places and even family stories. It is important to talk to people, elderly aunts or uncles.  Do not leave it until it is too late as I did. It only makes the work harder and longer.  Jot down any place names that are mentioned because it does help to know where people lived and better still, where they originally came from.

3.  Contact any cousins, find out details of them, their families, their parents.  Anything you can ascertain from them like wedding dates and death dates.

4.  When applying for certificates, especially marriage certificates always read and note the full details.  Often witnesses to marriages were family members so that will give you more names.

5.  Acquire any family photographs that you can. Often they will have a date on the back and if you are lucky, the names of the people. If relatives are unwilling to give you photographs then state that you will photocopy and return the originals. I have obtained many photographs and documents this way.

6.  Use the internet.  There is new information coming on line all the time.  The Latter Day Saints site has millions or records worldwide and you can also access the American and British Census records on there, at least the British one for 1881. Free BMD are putting online all English, Scottish and Welsh records since registration began.  It is being done by voluntary transcribers (I transcribed thousands of pages myself for them).  They enter new data every week.

8.  There are many message boards on Geneology sites where you can post a message about family you are seeking.  I put one on the South African message board and had a wonderful response that led me to lots more information and finding cousins I did not know existed.

9.  Above all, do not be discouraged.  You have to have patience.  Sometimes a letter written will not be answered for weeks.  I can give you an example. I wrote to the Record Office on Malta to ask if they could tell me anything about the burial of a relative.  A reply came back that they could not.  Unknown to me, they held my query on file and just this year, three years after my original request, I got an e-mail out of the blue telling me they had now acquired new information and giving me the exact details of where the grave was. So patience, patience. Even if you appear to reach a dead end, you will be surprised that things can still turn up.

10.  Be aware that once you start, it becomes very addictive and I mean very.  You might even find yourself getting books out of the library to read about the history of the time your ancestors lived.  It improves your knowledge greatly.  Every piece of information is like gold dust and you feel so elated and then cannot wait to move on.

Good luck to all who start research.  You will never be sorry you did.  It is a wonderful and very rewarding hobby.

He Started It

Meet Johnny A.  He started it. He was the person who started me on a twelve year quest to find out about my ancestors.  Strictly speaking I had made half-hearted attempts before.  My beloved once bought me a book where you could enter all the details you knew about your family.  When I had put in mine, there was very little to show!

Shortly after we got our first computer, Mike bought me for Christmas a Family Tree programme.  I thought he was taking the mickey.  When I saw how many names the programme would hold and totted up how many names I had, it all seemed so ridiculous.  However, I decided to put in the information I had , plus some photographs, onto the programme and this left me wanting more so I decided to get my box of photographs out of the loft and have a look through.

Enter Johnny A.   When I was about fourteen my Mother was clearing out drawers in her bedroom whilst I sat and chatted to her. Lots of old pictures came out and she explained who they were. Then this one appeared.  Who was this handsome young man in uniform?  I asked my Mother, she said she had no idea - he was something to do with my Father's side.  So, I went and asked him. He said "Oh that is Johnny A"  I could not understand it, our surname began with F.  What connection could he have to us.  I asked Dad.  "He is Grandfather's half-brother's son" came the reply and that is all I got.  My Father had not been close to his family and did not talk about them much.  For some reason what he said intrigued me and I scrawled on the back in pencil - Grandfather's half-brother's son.  I asked if I could keep the photo and was told that I could. Maybe I had a sort of "crush" on this handsome soldier but I knew that I did not want to part with the picture.

Keep it I did, I grew up and got married and moved house several times.  With each move, Johnny came with us in the box along with many other photos.  Looking back now I think it just had to be that I never threw him away.  It was fate.

Anyway, having come across his picture again I decided to try and findoutthe connection between the A family and our family going by what was written on the back.  I could come up with nothing so him indoors kindly said he would pay for a professional researcher to find the link.  I was so excited.  I duly found a reliable person and sent off the details I had.  I waited weeks and weeks only to get a letter saying that absolutely no link could be found between the families and that my Father must have been mistaken.  I knew my Father, he did not make those sort of mistakes.  Oh, how I wished I had asked him more but he had passed away by this time.

Mike then said he would fund a second researcher.  This time I decided to try a woman as a woman might just have more intuition.  Again weeks went by.  Again a letter saying nothing could be found. It made no sense to me.

I am not blowing my own trumpet here when I tell you that it was one of the happiest and proudest moments of my life when I myself cracked the mystery - partly through writing many letters, partly through the internet and partly through sheer dogged determination. The day when what I had been seeking finally came and I saw the proof with my own eyes, I let out such a yell of sheer joy and pleasure that Mike came running. I had the great satisfaction of being able to contact the two "professionals" to tell them that my Father was correct and they had been wrong!!!!!  The mystery was solved and Johnny was indeed related to us.

I do not know if any of you are doing your family tree or whether anybody  would be interested, but if you would like to know how I did it, then I will make that my next entry.

 

 

 

 

 

FLAME - one of my poems.

FLAME

I watched a candle shed its golden beam
Into the silent, darkening room,
A golden tear, a glittering spear
That struck out fiercely at the gathering gloom.
It flickered in the corners, throwing shadows wild
Reminding me of night-lights when I was but a child.
Huddled under blankets, lips and fists clenched tight
As if to protect me from the monsters made by fright.
From such a spark as this, first fire came
When man could barely stand erect
Nor form his name.
I watched the candle shed its mellow light
And thought of Him who came into the world one night
To show the way for all
And of how the light was taken
At the Son of God's downfall.
And yet, the faith He planted to confound his enemies
Has echoed ever louder, down twenty centuries.
Fire, sacred to the ancients
Candle, sacred still today
Which brings a calm that cannot be described
For, somehow, it is vibrant and alive
As life itself.
And yet, brings forth deep peace into the soul
When candle casts its incandescent thrall.

                                                      Copyright 2004.

                                

 

A Smile For All

I just had to put this on today.  Out little Grandson, Nathan,  is now eleven weeks old.  Normally when you try and get a picture of him smiling, he becomes very serious and frowns like a little old man.  This is the first time his Mum and Dad have been able to capture a really good smile.

Nice to start the week off on a happy note isn't it?

The White Dog

It was bitterly cold.   The radio announcements were  telling people not to venture out into the blizzard. I was determined so Mike carefully drove to the hospital. My Mother had taken a turn for the worse.  I found her in a bad way.  Nevertheless the Ward Sister assured us that she was still likely to make a recovery.  It was late, long after visiting hours as I sat and brushed her hair and held her hand.  Then we were asked to leave.  We were told we could do nothing and the night staff did not want us getting in the way.  We argued but in the end had no option but to go.  We somehow made it home through the blinding snow.  One hour later the call came.  I knew. I told the Sister even before she had the chance to break the news.  I was devastated. I never got to say goodbye, my Mother died alone. Three days later we stood in thick snow in the cemetery, battered by the wind, the cold almost freezing the tears on our faces.

That night it snowed again and on the following day. The day after that the snow still lay thick and deep.  I had the urge to go to the cemetery to say my goodbye without a crowd of people around me. Mike did not want to take the car out but he knew how badly I was feeling so eventually agreed.  The journey was only a couple of miles but seemed to take forever as we crawled along the icy roads.  We reached the cemetery. It was deserted.  Nobody else had ventured out in this treacherous weather.  We put the car in the parking area and turned to close the car doors.  My stomach lurched.  How was I going to find the grave?  Snow covered everything. There had been quite a few burials  around the same time but all that could be seen was mounds of snow.  At that early stage there were no headstones or gravemarkers, the flowers were completely buried. Neither Mike nor myself was sure which one was the correct one. We stood by the car discussing the situation when I happened to glance down the central avenue, the one which we had to walk down and there, a few yards away, was a little white dog.

When I say white, it was more yellow or cream.  A white dog might look just that in other circumstances but against the stark whiteness of the snow the dog could not compete.  I thought how strange it was.  There was nobody in the cemetery, no-one who could have owned the dog.  I reached out to it and spoke softly.  The dog just ran on ahead a little way and then stopped.  We followed.  So it went on, the dog would run ahead for a little then stop and look at us.

We continued to look around trying to pinpoint the exact location.  Suddenly a startled bird let out a loud cry and flew up from a tree. We naturally turned to look.  When we looked back, the little white dog had disappeared. My eyes scanned around searching for it.  Then my stomach went into a tight knot.  On one of the graves sat the little white dog.  I gripped Mike's arm.  For some reason I just knew.  I felt sure it was my Mother's grave.  I told Mike.  He thought it strange but nothing more and told me it could by any grave.  We left the avenue and walked across the deep snow that covered the grass. Once again something distracted us, neither of us can remember what.  When we looked again the little dog had gone. We went to exactly where it had been sitting and with my gloved hand I scrabbled in the snow.  I immediately uncovered part of the very cross of flowers I had ordered for my Mother.  I uncovered more, Mike and I both dug frantically.  Yes, it was her grave.  I cried with relief. Mike and I stood in silence and then he wandered off to look for the dog whilst I said my last Goodbyes.

He came back puzzled and asked whether the dog had passed me.  I said no.  We looked around. No sight of a white dog anywhere.  The cemetery was securely fenced, it could not have got out through there.  Mike had been on the main avenue and it had not passed him.  I was worried about it.  I had noticed it wore no collar, it did not seem to belong to anyone.  I decided it we could find it we should take it home and feed it until we could contact a rescue service.  Mike walked up and down between all the rows of graves - no dog. I searched behind bushes - no dog.  We made our way back to the car and sat there for a while watching.  All was still, all was quiet. I got Mike to walk to the main gate and look up and down the main road where he could clearly see in both directions - no dog. We sat in the car again and discussed this strange incident.  Where did the dog come from?  Why had it sat on the exact grave we were looking for? Why was nobody with it?  We were extremely puzzled.

Suddenly a realisation gripped me.  I shouted to Mike to come with me.  We set off towards the grave.  I said to Mike - "Do you see?"  He asked what I was talking about.  "There are no pawprints, Mike, no pawprints."  It was true. On the main avenue there were only our prints, around  and on the grave there were only our prints.  There were no pawprints of any animal whatsoever!

I was not scared. I felt happy.  Somehow we had been shown the correct grave and I was able to say a proper farewell to my Mother.

Time passed and the memory of that day faded into the distance. Several years later, on CB radio, we became friends with a man who turned out to be local.  We arranged to meet and several times we visited each other.  It was not until about our third meeting that he happened to say that he had been a gravedigger for about twenty years and told us that he had experienced many strange things when digging graves, particularly when he was alone.  He happened to mention the word "dog."  Immediately the memory came flooding back of that snowy day.  I told him what had happened.  He nodded quietly. "I believe you" he said, "did you know that among gravediggers it is said that a white dog represents the soul of the dear departed".Then he told us he had encountered white dogs several times and they always disappeared.  I sat stunned. I had never heard this before. I do not know if this is a local or worldwide belief but after Dave told us that, I was and remain sure that the soul or spirit of my Mother herself showed us her final resting place. She wanted to say goodbye to me as much as I wanted to say goodbye to her.

Is this a true story? Yes, it happened to us just as described and we both saw the dog. Do you believe it?  Well, dear readers, I leave it up to you to make up your own minds.

In our thoughts - 9/11

Our thoughts are with America today as they remember the tragedy of 9/11.  Our hearts go out to all those that were bereaved and our prayers that such a terrible thing will never happen again.  God bless our American friends.

We also remember the 67 British victims who perished in the World Trade Centre. May their families be comforted today.

God bless all British and American troops still fighting in Iraq and other parts of the world.

We pray for peace Lord, amen.

Another year - 2

Thought you might like to share these photos. I had a lovely day.

 

Some of my flowers and cake with flaming candles that would not blow out!!!!!!

 

Nathan really made things extra special. He is now ten weeks old.

 

The proud grandparents.

 

Another Year!

Yes, it is that time again.  Today finds me another year older.  Where does the time go?!! Ninth day of the ninth month. When I met Mike he was living at no. 9 and we got engaged on the 9th and Mike's birthday is on the 9th - in December. We have always looked on it as our number although we have not noticed it being particularly lucky.

I have mixed feelings today. I have often thought that when you get to a certain age, Birthdays should no longer be celebrated.  I mean Birthdays are really like Christmas and much better enjoyed by children.  Every birthday now finds me comparing myself with the last one and noticing how many more aches and pains I have developed since the previous year!!! It is also a very sobering thought that I know or knew far more people that have passed away than I know now.  That comes with the passing of the years.

However, this year is more special because we have little Nathan.  My first Grandmother's card!! I have been writing so much lately about my own Grandmother that I find it hard to believe that I am now in her shoes. Whilst I was writing those memories I felt like a little girl again.  Now, here I am, a Grandmother in my own right and in the Autumn of my life.  A strange feeling, a little scary.  When you are young, a day can seem an eternity.  As you get older the days seem to fly by.  So, mixed feelings today, a little sad, quite happy.  Had some wonderful cards, a cousin has at last come up with long promised photos for my family tree, I was even surprised by internet cards that I did not expect!!!!!!! Even better, for a change on my Birthday, the sun is shining brightly and the birds are singing.

So dear friends, I am putting aside my aches and pains and my worries for today.  I am going to enjoy it to the best of my ability. Had some lovely flowers from Mike, a helium birthday balloon and a book I cannot wait to read. Another present was supposed to be here but has not turned up soit looks like my Birthday will stretch to two days or maybe  more!!  The family will be over later and I hope to have lots of laughs and happiness bathed in the warmth of their love.  I thank God for another year and pray that the year ahead will see improved health.  I thank God for my family and my friends and for all the little kindnesses received from other people. I thank God for all the wonderful people I have come to know through the computer.

Oh, I will not tell you exactly how old I am.  Let me just say that if  I had a cake and if  we put the correct number of candles on and if we lit them - the heat would drive us from the room!!!!!!

On that thought I will leave you now and enjoy my Birthday. God bless all of you.

Local Photographs

Mike was so delighted when , the day before yesterday, something that he had done actually got onto my journal!!  He was so pleased that people liked the photographs.  So I have decided to make his day again today and add some more.

This is our Parish Church.  Actually we fall between two Parishes so we can use either church.  This building dates from around 1300.  It is very unusual in that it has a wooden steeple.  The porch was rebuilt in 1884.  At the eastern end of the churchyard is the final resting place of one William Burton. Burton murdered his wife, a washer woman, in a drunken rage and hid the body.  He might have escaped detection had not a small boy called out to him that his wife's body had been found.  He completely lost his nerve and hung himself in a nearby granary.  Although, of course, he was never tried and therefore the case was not proved, as a likely murderer and  a definite suicide, the Minister could not allow him to be buried in consecrated ground.  He was therefore interred just outside the Churchyard - in the hedge!

By the west door there is an area that has never been used for burials and has no memorial stones.  Tradition says that this is the site of a mass burial for the victims of the Great Plague of 1665.  Unfortunately, Mike could not photograph any of the interior.  Sadly, many churches in this area are now kept locked apart from when services are held, due to vandalism and theft.

This is our local pub, just up the road from us. The pub faces the village green.  We are lucky in that this is one of the few places in this locality that still has a village green.  A fair is held there every year.   The date of the pub is actually not known for sure but there has undoubtedly been an inn on this site for centuries.  This was an agricultural community (still many farms around here).  Hours were very long, the work back-breaking and the men took their ease and leisure in the local inn.  Alcohol was cheap and was considered the "scourge" of farming labourers.  Communal cooking was done in a vast iron boiler at the inn.  A bullock or sheep's head could be purchased at very little cost and thrown into the pot along with vegetables to simmer all day.  Financial transactions were carried out here and the wages paid out to the local workers.

Our village green. It is bigger than it looks.  It is sad that we have lost so much of our countryside now to development as we are on the main commuter line to London.  However, we do treasure what we have left.

This cottage is just yards away from us and one of the oldest properties left in the area, dating from the 1500's. You probably cannot get a true idea of just how small it is.  It is dwarfed by the buildings around it.  Originally probably set in deep countryside it now fronts the main road and has traffic thundering past all day and all night but there has never been a time when it has not been occupied.

This cottage was probably originally a farm house. Date unknown but undoubtedly many centuries old.  Mike could not get what he wanted to show, that the whole property is on a tilt but if you look at the bulge in the roof and the windows that are out of line, you can see that the property has "twisted".  In the upstairs rooms the owners will have to walk uphill and downhill!

Our local woods.  Comprised of many individual little woods that once had differing names but now all brought together under one and called Bull Woods.  It is a place of beauty and tranquility.  However, at weekends it is full of people and their dogs, horse-riders and ramblers. Many different varieties of birds are found here and squirrels abound.  The only little problem is that  the summer brings out the ants - large red ants which were imported from Spain many years ago to keep the black ant population under control.  These red ants bite!!!! Quite painful, so it is advisable not to site on the ground.

I hope you enjoy these pictures. Mike enjoyed taking them for you.  I shall be showing more of our local area another time.