tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89308417928823277322024-03-05T21:48:54.486+00:00These Kindred SpiritsPutting the flesh on the bones of my ancestorsDenisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-21247537971837902752015-05-30T15:37:00.000+01:002015-05-30T15:37:49.704+01:00The Three Brothers Who Went to WarThis is the story of three brothers who fought in the Great War. Between them, they experienced all that the war could throw at them. They fought in different countries; as soldiers and cavalrymen, they experienced promotion, discharge and injury. Two of them were to make the ultimate sacrifice.<br />
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Sidney, Arthur and Herbert Cullip are my third cousins, twice removed. The son of a baker, George William Cullip and his wife, Fanny (nee Bradburn), their youth was spent in varying parts of south west London. Having been born in the last decade of the 19th century, they were all prime candidates to have served at some time or another during the Great War, and I could not believe my eyes to discover that all three of their service or pension records had survived.<br />
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Sidney George was the eldest son, born 1892 in Putney. He spent his early years learning his ABCs at school before working alongside his father as a journeyman baker. When the call to war came in 1914 he didn't join up immediately. As the eldest, and a mainstay of the family business, I wonder whether his father refused to let him go and kept him by his side for as long as he could. It may be that he was as enthusiastic to enlist as his two brothers who were gagging at the bit to join up.<br />
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When conscription was introduced in January 1916, Sidney took the oath at Richmond, Surrey and became a private in the 16th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers. His service record is difficult to make out, but it is clear that in June 1916 he was transferred to the 8th Battalion, Royal Welsh Fusiliers. He saw action in the hot, dusty climes of Mesopotamia, and probably took part in the push to take Baghdad from the Ottoman Turkish forces in the first months of 1917. On 15 February 1917, in all likelihood during the capture of Dahra Bend, an Ottoman position that the British Army took during its march on Baghdad, Sidney received wounds that he was to succumb to the following day. He is buried in the Amara War Cemetery in Amara, Iraq.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.greatwarci.net/honour/jersey/pix/amara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.greatwarci.net/honour/jersey/pix/amara.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amara War Cemetary (photo courtesy http://www.greatwarci.net)</td></tr>
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Arthur Charles was four years younger than Sidney. He was 18 when war was declared on 4th August 1914. Five days later, full of patriotic fervour, Arthur had enlisted. He was posted to the 7th Reserve Cavalry Regiment which was responsible for training men for the 21st Lancers. Arthur had become a 'Lancer of the Line', a cavalryman. He saw no action for the first two years, staying on home soil. In March 2016 he requested a transfer under para 333 (iv) of the King's Regulations. This enabled him to move to the regiment where his older brother, Sidney, was serving. They were only together for a short time as Sidney was soon on the move to the Royal Welsh Fusiliers and Mesopotamia. Sadly, the three short months between March and June was the last time that the two brothers were together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.iwm.org.uk/sites/default/files/styles/fullwidth_400height/public/imagecache/externals/c17e182d3de517133902af4384e01dca?itok=qPjKXzor" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://www.iwm.org.uk/sites/default/files/styles/fullwidth_400height/public/imagecache/externals/c17e182d3de517133902af4384e01dca?itok=qPjKXzor" height="173" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signing up for war (photo courtesy IWM)</td></tr>
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Arthur stayed with the 16th Battalion, Royal Fusiliers until July when he was posted to the 32nd Battalion, Royal Fusiliers. In August he was dispatched to France where he saw his first action. Unfortunately, in October, he received a gunshot wound to the neck and right shoulder so was shipped back to hospital in Blighty. Within six months he was back in France, but in June 1917 he was shot again, this time in the left cheek. Once more, it was back to the UK for treatment, before returning to France in January 1918.<br />
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During his time at home and in France, he was steadily being promoted through the ranks until by March 1918 he had attained the rank of Sergeant. In October, just weeks before the armistice, Arthur was wounded again, this time with a shrapnel wound to the shoulder. But two gunshot wounds and shrapnel wasn't enough to put Arthur out of action for good. He served out his time, finally being discharged in April 1919. A year later he was married to Louisa, and they were have to have one son together. In 1952, in their mid 50s, Arthur and Louisa embarked on a journey to the other side of the world when they emigrated to South Australia. Sadly Arthur died in 1956, having only enjoyed four years of his new life.<br />
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The youngest son, Herbert James, was a mere stripling when war broke out. He was just 15. But this didn't stop him from enlisting at the earliest possible opportunity. In July 1915, at the age of 16, he signed up with the Royal Regiment of Artillery. He was under age so told the recruiting office that he was 19 years and three months old. The lie went undiscovered until the following March when he was discharged under Para 392 VI (a) of the Kings Regulations. Herbert's career as a soldier was over. But only temporarily...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A battery in the Royal Field Artillery</td></tr>
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He must have re-enlisted when reaching the age of 18 because it's as a Gunner in the Royal Field Artillery that Herbert lost his life. He was killed in action on 4 August 1918 whilst serving with 'H' Battery, 38th Brigade. He was initially buried in Abeelz French Military Cemetery, however in 1924 his body was disinterred and reburied in Cabaret-Rouge Cemetery in the Pas de Calais. This was part of a programme to 'concentrate' burials from a range of smaller burial grounds into a larger focused area. For his mother Fanny, who had lost two sons in the conflict, this must have been a time of reopened wounds. She requested that his grave be marked with a simple statement: 'Until the Day Break'...<br />
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<i>'Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my beloved, and be thou like a roe or a young hart upon the rugged mountains'.</i><br />
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(Song of Solomon 2:17)Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-14984904666961669222015-02-22T15:57:00.000+00:002015-02-22T15:57:19.025+00:00James Miles: From Soldier to Telephone OperatorI've recently started travelling down a branch of my tree that has been much neglected in my family history travels, that of my 3 x Great Grandmother, Ann Esther Ibbott Miles' family. As I find happens so frequently, one particular person intrigued me more than most: James Miles, my 1st cousin, four times removed.<br />
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James was the nephew of Ann Esther Ibbott Miles and it soon became apparent that he had led an interesting and varied life.<br />
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Born at the beginning of 1853 to James and Mary Miles in the small village of Tempsford, Bedfordshire, where so many of my ancestors hailed from, he was the youngest of nine children. His mother gave birth to him at the age of 48, nine years after her last child, so his arrival was probably a bit of a surprise to the family. His father worked the land, as James would have done around his schooling.<br />
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By the time he was 18, James was working as a footman at <a href="http://www.longstowehall.co.uk/" target="_blank">Longstowe Hall</a>, near Cambridge. This grand Elizabethan pile was owned at the time by Sidney Stanley, local landowner and a Justice of the Peace for Cambridgeshire. This was a large and busy household as not only did Stanley and his wife have seven children but they were looked after by a huge staff ranging from the butler, governess and housekeeper at the top of the servant's ladder to a number of housemaids and laundry maids at the opposite end of the pecking order. It was all very 'Downton Abbey'!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtEPyyu8HiWQy73MnlCKr1FXpfRCwXVZCYChL99Lj2Zgbua2U8ctHpSeZgJ_gIBcYwcOyvKuf_uQjHU2r0XNxPOh-QAcUVQzxqfc7dGwWsDhFydpcEQp0xrdDtvRepNe96ZBjns7zhSXf/s1600/longstowe-hall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtEPyyu8HiWQy73MnlCKr1FXpfRCwXVZCYChL99Lj2Zgbua2U8ctHpSeZgJ_gIBcYwcOyvKuf_uQjHU2r0XNxPOh-QAcUVQzxqfc7dGwWsDhFydpcEQp0xrdDtvRepNe96ZBjns7zhSXf/s1600/longstowe-hall.jpg" height="186" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Longstowe Hall (photo courtesy www.longstowehall.co.uk)</td></tr>
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As a footman, James was not one of the senior or 'upper' servants. Although his days were long and he'd have been on his feet all day, his duties were deliberately undemanding. His main role was to be seen: serving meals, opening and closing doors, accompanying the carriage on journies. Dressed in an expensive uniform, his very presence in the house was to display his master's wealth. As the <a href="https://countryhousereader.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/the-servant-hierarchy/" target="_blank">countryhousereader blog</a> explains, having a footman was a sign of conspicuous consumption, a demonstration of riches. The footman was supposed to look good, so I can only assume, and maybe I'm a bit biased here, that James was a good looking young man. Getting employment as a footman was a good move for James, as he would have earned more than an agricultural labourer, of which many could be found in his family, and would have had room and board as a given.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-3IUWZcv-NC0nREY4PKScFWsw4Gx3LMoxsG2PZko4-mDUndH9oR0aKJGysAOqdEkSYnoBhR67hbIQwjbCxsM0VzNuFymJ2DERuz5hmrwlwZUtBTfoLYc3u7asUSnqWnP2E8aBE_xKOAJ/s1600/footmen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-3IUWZcv-NC0nREY4PKScFWsw4Gx3LMoxsG2PZko4-mDUndH9oR0aKJGysAOqdEkSYnoBhR67hbIQwjbCxsM0VzNuFymJ2DERuz5hmrwlwZUtBTfoLYc3u7asUSnqWnP2E8aBE_xKOAJ/s1600/footmen.jpg" height="286" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The servants of Petworth House, Sussex in the 1870s.<br />
Just the type of uniform that James would have worn.<br />
(Photo via <a href="https://countryhousereader.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/the-servant-hierarchy/">https://countryhousereader.wordpress.com/2013/12/19/the-servant-hierarchy/</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Perhap life in this large privileged household didn't offer enough excitement and challenge for the young James Miles as in 1878, when he was 24 years old, James began a whole new chapter in his life; one which offered the prospect of adventure and travel. On the last day of January of that year, at 11am in the morning, James signed up for 12 years service in the infantry of the British army. He was to spend his army career in the 4th Battalion, the King's Own (Royal Lancaster) Regiment who had their home barracks in Lancaster.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyXycHuEVrbwAuj3VDlaS8dX2gZP0G5S9anIiPA6-o9hkP7PO8GdoigxbJWp2M2-CrQOqMaZG3RMzDYsT3Ick6zNfjbh1h5qZ5ZjhmIyVCcebhHogvRZOtL3FZ7y15xGTH1CMtuUMwX5e/s1600/4thkingsownbadge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyXycHuEVrbwAuj3VDlaS8dX2gZP0G5S9anIiPA6-o9hkP7PO8GdoigxbJWp2M2-CrQOqMaZG3RMzDYsT3Ick6zNfjbh1h5qZ5ZjhmIyVCcebhHogvRZOtL3FZ7y15xGTH1CMtuUMwX5e/s1600/4thkingsownbadge.jpg" height="320" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The badge of the 4th Battalion,<br />King's Own Regiment</td></tr>
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James must have enjoyed the life of a soldier as he was to sign up for a second term, serving for 21 years in total. And what was there for him to dislike? He was clearly well respected as his service record (found in <a href="http://search.findmypast.co.uk/search-world-Records/british-army-service-records-1760-1915" target="_blank">British Army Service Records 1760-1915</a> on findmypast.co.uk) shows that he was promoted up the ranks from private to corporal to sergeant, until by the time of his discharge he had attained the rank of colour sergeant. He did not see any action but served in several overseas outposts - Gibraltar, the West Indies and Ireland. The role of these outputs was to maintain the security of Britain's trade routes and to guard the British Empire's far flung frontiers.<br />
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A posting in Jamaica was once considered a death sentence, and James was not to escape illness. Even though he was stationed in <a href="http://www.jdfmil.org/campsAndBases/campAndBasesHome2.php" target="_blank">Newcastle</a> high in the Blue Mountains where soldiers were less susceptible to yellow fever, James still succombed to 'neuralgia' and later whilst in <a href="http://www.jdfmil.org/overview/bases/bases_home.php" target="_blank">Up Park</a> camp in Kingston, he fell ill with a fever that hospitalised him for two weeks.<br />
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The only blemish on an otherwise impeccable army career was his demotion from sergeant to corporal as a result of drunkenness in August 1884 whilst stationed at Castletown on the Isle of Man. My reaction to that was 'Oh James, why, oh why, did you do that?'. But it didn't stop him in his tracks and he was soon back on the promotional ladder. His service record states he had a 'very good' character and would have received many good conduct badges if he hadn't been promoted.<br />
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At the end of his second term, and exactly 21 years to the day since he had signed up, he was discharged from the army. He was 45 years old.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFxYc4e7DGuRoNIO4TOnAGoCbgBGg2C6ERyxZUAt47VBIeEVLQVM3J6k5Q2j9WWVUbMknNjN3PG1BNLDwrId_m3OBlPF8iae_ktp3JIWfW_-16Yl7EzX1axD6jimbNU_1FMEPiFU0oSzc/s1600/bowerham+barracks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFxYc4e7DGuRoNIO4TOnAGoCbgBGg2C6ERyxZUAt47VBIeEVLQVM3J6k5Q2j9WWVUbMknNjN3PG1BNLDwrId_m3OBlPF8iae_ktp3JIWfW_-16Yl7EzX1axD6jimbNU_1FMEPiFU0oSzc/s1600/bowerham+barracks.jpg" height="397" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bowerham Barracks, Lancaster - where James spent his 21-year military career.<br />(Photo: <a href="http://www.kingsownmuseum.plus.com/galleryaccommodation02.htm">http://www.kingsownmuseum.plus.com/galleryaccommodation02.htm</a>)</td></tr>
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In 1890 he had married Annie Gregory, a Yorkshire lass born in Sheffield who had worked at the County Asylum located a stone's throw from the Bowerham Barracks in Lancaster where James lived and worked. They had three children in the space of five years. So it was in 1899 that James and his young family left Lancaster and the army life he, and they, had known for so many years, and relocated to Longsight in Manchester. It was here that James embarked on a new career in a relatively new industry. He became a telephone operator.<br />
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James worked for the National Telephone Company [NTC]. The industry had only been in existence since the 1870s with the NTC itself being formed in 1881 and it's around about this time that the first telephone exchange opened in Manchester. Most telephone operators were women, so it strikes me as unusual to find James in this role. However, this is the job that he did from at least 1901 to 1911. A caller would connect to the exchange where a telephone operator such as James would connect them to the required destination. I'm really proud to think that an ancestor of mine worked in a fairly pioneering industry.<br />
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James died on 16th February 1915 at his home in Levenshulme, Manchester. He was relatively young as he was only 62.<br />
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I became intrigued by him when I discovered on one census that he'd been a telephone operator and on an earlier census he'd been a soldier. What a change in occupation! He was an ordinary chap, and he probably considered a lot of his day to day life to be pretty humdrum, but I think he has a fascinating career history - full of variety and innovation. He demonstrated his character through his army promotions and he looked the future in the face when taking on new fangled telephones in the first decade of the twentieth century. He started his life in a small agricultural village and ended it in a major metropolis working in an industry of the future. His life exemplified how life for everyone changed so rapidly in the 19th and 20th centuries.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-76771273744974623552015-02-01T12:42:00.000+00:002015-02-01T12:42:57.814+00:00Just your typical genealogical puzzleI do like a good challenge. Last week I revisited the family tree of my 3 x Great Grand Uncle, George Cullip, who was born in Bedfordshire in 1802. I had done some brief work on his family a few years back so it was time to refresh my memory, confirm facts and double check all the sources.<br />
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I started with the 1841 census. This stated that George was living in Leeds with his wife Lucy and children Joseph (born, according to the census, in 1826), Cornelius (b.1831), Betsey (b.1836) and Mary Ann (b.1838). If I could find the children's baptism dates I would get a truer indication of when the children were born. I had previously discovered that when George married Lucy he was a widower. His first wife, Mary Ibbott, had died in Tempsford, Bedfordshire in January 1833. He subsequently married Lucy Stonebridge in 1837, again in Tempsford. I therefore decided to search for the baptism records in Tempsford for Mary and George's children. The Bedfordshire parish records are not yet online, so I turned my attention to <a href="http://familysearch.org/">familysearch.org</a>. This opened up an unexpected can of worms which tested my powers of investigation no end.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc71tbdIvIihUTkjgV9n-t_KqbcJBIRKIJnllLP8ExPl1fnIudPizV2i_CUnmk3TIl41tMgUdo4VFikla2QgKBa0BRwaEIvwZWMN47kpFt5-iKLH7XwLICWXyLo3DdMjCwqdicyZEbPtGp/s1600/1841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc71tbdIvIihUTkjgV9n-t_KqbcJBIRKIJnllLP8ExPl1fnIudPizV2i_CUnmk3TIl41tMgUdo4VFikla2QgKBa0BRwaEIvwZWMN47kpFt5-iKLH7XwLICWXyLo3DdMjCwqdicyZEbPtGp/s1600/1841.JPG" height="202" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />The Leeds 1841 census showing the children of George and Lucy Cullip.<br />The five year old Betsey triggered much investigation, assumption and a speculative conclusion.<br />George is resident with the family but features on the previous page.</td></tr>
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I ran a 'parent search' looking for the children of George Cullip and Mary. To my surprise, there were six results, rather than the expected three (Mary Ann being the daughter of Lucy):<br />
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John, baptised Oct 1822<br />
Joseph and Elizabeth, baptised Oct 1828<br />
Cornelius, baptised May 1830<br />
James and Alice, baptised Jan 1833<br />
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My first conundrum was where were James and Alice? They weren't on the 1841 census living with George and Lucy. The date of their baptism was 27 January 1833, just four days after their mother Mary had been buried. I came to the sad conclusion that she must have died as a result of childbirth. But had they too followed Mary to the grave? I can only conclude that that is what happened as I have been unable to locate them on any further census records. And unfortunately definitive death records are proving elusive too.<br />
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Secondly, I was intrigued by the birth of John in 1822. As he wasn't living with his parents by the time of the 1841 census he had slipped through my radar. In my earlier investigations into George, I had found a gaol record for him on the excellent <a href="http://apps.bedfordshire.gov.uk/grd/search.aspx" target="_blank">Bedfordshire Gaol Register website</a>. George had been committed in August 1822 to three months hard labour for refusing to obey a bastardy order. He was actually serving his sentence at the time of John's baptism in October. My theory is that George initially refused to admit to being John's father and perhaps after contact with his son he relented as, a year later, in December 1823, he and Mary were married. Whether this marriage was born out of love or duty is a matter of conjecture. It was five years before they had any surviving offspring so was the marriage initially strained? Of course, it may be that John's mother was a different Mary as the name was so common in the 19th century, but I like to think it is the same woman. My next task is to try and get my hands on the bastardy order, hopefully that will resolve the issue.<br />
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My final puzzle related to Elizabeth Cullip, I had initially noted down that she was born in 1836 as per the 1841 census. But this couldn't be the case if her baptism was in 1828! Why would a 13-year girl be listed as being five? Plus if she was Joseph's twin (an assumption brought about by the fact that they were baptised on the same day) then why isn't she noted as being the same age as him? By the 1851 census Elizabeth is listed as being 18 years old, indicating she was born in 1833 - yet another difference in her year of birth. It was at this point that a light bulb switched on over my head and I wondered whether in fact there were two different children. On the 1841 census the child is called Betsey, a common pet name for Elizabeth, hence my initial confusion. So I returned to familysearch and hunted for any Betsy or Betsey, rather than Elizabeth, born around 1833 in Tempsford. There at the top of the list was 'Betsy Stonebridge or Hare', baptised July 1832, daughter of Lucy Stonebridge and James Hare. The indecision regarding her surname led me to conclude that she must have been illegitimate. I had found my girl.<br />
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A subsequent search of the <a href="http://search.findmypast.co.uk/search-world-Records/national-burial-index-for-england-and-wales" target="_blank">National Burial Index</a> revealed an Elizabeth Cullip who died aged seven in 1833 and was buried in the February. There were indeed two children, one of whom switched between her birth name of Betsy and Elizabeth throughout her life, causing future amateur genealogists some trouble! I can only assume that the enumerator made an error on the 1841 census by rounding her age down from eight to five.<br />
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As Elizabeth Cullip's death followed so soon after the death of her mother I wonder whether Mary didn't in fact die in childbirth but had succombed to an illness which she then passed on to her daughter. We will probably never know.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxqEqPY-TU7_nSMSKSkb_SNicDlY-BxjByC8rpeDHBUJFX4m2CHvSRwoGeY9pPv0s7gnBzfyidElBvqmXiS2RRr4yfxDpshtUlU0Ubd2MR-HeeiDyUBy9ONadx_tj3ic8XCUIZ45T5VKw/s1600/tempsford+church+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZxqEqPY-TU7_nSMSKSkb_SNicDlY-BxjByC8rpeDHBUJFX4m2CHvSRwoGeY9pPv0s7gnBzfyidElBvqmXiS2RRr4yfxDpshtUlU0Ubd2MR-HeeiDyUBy9ONadx_tj3ic8XCUIZ45T5VKw/s1600/tempsford+church+cropped.jpg" height="245" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tempsford Church: the scene of so many of my ancestors vital life events.<br />Elizabeth Cullip was baptised and buried here.</td></tr>
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As ever when searching one's family history, just as one door closes, another opens. I have more questions now which need answering. Was John Cullip the child at the heart of the bastardy case; did Lucy and George have any children I've not discovered yet (a quick glance at familysearch thinks maybe they did); what happened to the twins, James and Alice, who disappear from history after their birth? I'm still not entirely convinced that my conclusions are correct. But isn't that one of the reasons why family historians love delving into their past, to turn private investigator and get their teeth into a juicy case. For me, the case is not yet closed, and probably never will be...Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-52425458958857446252014-08-08T14:58:00.000+01:002014-08-08T14:58:32.508+01:00Chapel Lane, Longford - my Irish ancestors' homeLast night I watched Julie Walters' episode of <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b04d90tz/who-do-you-think-you-are-series-11-1-julie-walters" target="_blank">Who Do You Think You Are?</a> and was inspired to look a little more closely into the the house where my maternal grandfather was raised in County Longford, Ireland. Julie was able to stand in the ruins of her ancestral home in County Mayo and touch the very walls where her great grandfather brought up his family. The census also disclosed who her ancestor's landlord was. By the time the programme was ending I was itching to get to my laptop so that I could also find out who my family's landlord was.<br />
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At the time of the 1911 census my grandfather, John, was seven years old. He lived with his father George, mother Annie, his younger siblings George and Mary Ann, his grandmother Ann and his uncle Patrick in a house in Chapel Lane, in the parish of Templemichael in Longford Town. Seven people shared this one house. Probably not a huge number in comparison to other families.<br />
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I had discovered the 1911 Ireland census many moons ago, but hadn't really studied the information regarding their house in any detail until today. The 'House and Building Return' attached to each family's census page provides particulars on the actual construction of their home. I've learnt that my family's property was made of either stone, brick or concrete; that it was roofed with slate, iron or tiles; had two, three or four rooms, and there were two windows on the front of the house. These attributes meant that the home they lived in was classified as a second class dwelling. A <a href="http://www.tara.tcd.ie/bitstream/handle/2262/7933/jssisiVolXIII46_59.pdf?sequence=1" target="_blank">paper</a> presented by the Registrar General, William J Thompson, in 1913 states:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOhHAuTp2CVGpaDTPK71ycVBSZOyFAsTCgw7UBbERDqsZRfUQsttvhA0fIZh0bUwvZbu7PhDLPBcfkukjGGgAbCaCVTrbc7IBp98L0ThClziW7ZDAhggU2MqfNccWutXDeSGXOZyjezYz/s1600/type+of+house.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXOhHAuTp2CVGpaDTPK71ycVBSZOyFAsTCgw7UBbERDqsZRfUQsttvhA0fIZh0bUwvZbu7PhDLPBcfkukjGGgAbCaCVTrbc7IBp98L0ThClziW7ZDAhggU2MqfNccWutXDeSGXOZyjezYz/s1600/type+of+house.PNG" height="102" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'The Census of 1911' by William J Thompson, presented 1913</td></tr>
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The marvel that is Google Street View shows two main types of building on Chapel Lane today. On one side of the road are two-storey properties such as that which can be seen in the photo of my great grandmother Annie, below. On the opposite side of the road are a series of smaller, single level properties seemingly made of the same construction materials. From the description on the census, I believe that my family lived in one of the single storey dwellings, although whether the buildings there today are the same as in 1911 I cannot tell.<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHChUe34dVZCQXh1E_YGzDlW17_ainQesZ3x72c3okI2KJiQj8MfLFxsSslZOrn0GAskIQ1V9H4ilIUgouA1kub3Z9iPm_7bW0aKpvgizgpvRT0EKc7Yg8RRZ5IslcYAHUFPfHebKdwOI/s1600/chapel+lane.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiHChUe34dVZCQXh1E_YGzDlW17_ainQesZ3x72c3okI2KJiQj8MfLFxsSslZOrn0GAskIQ1V9H4ilIUgouA1kub3Z9iPm_7bW0aKpvgizgpvRT0EKc7Yg8RRZ5IslcYAHUFPfHebKdwOI/s1600/chapel+lane.PNG" height="167" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Chapel Lane, Longford, c.2009 c/o Google Street View</td></tr>
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The house therefore was made of concrete and roofed with tiles. It's good to know that my grandfather was raised in what was classed as a fairly decent home. As the census states that the family lived in two rooms (I'm assuming that, as in the UK census, the bathroom wasn't counted, and it's likely they had an outhouse) it would have been a tight squeeze for four adults and three small children. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cU5fNsdmyV605H09ymKayJwxRz22ysb2V2PZLpZ2bHASCeq0NIXGbyRS9nFLd9pBumhebQxgnHV0aHxht6MqZ-_lJQlAzG68HcxExGlqd5E9jTgkqwy8-V5WzTUoss0azsJseXqtMOXf/s1600/Annie+Green.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1cU5fNsdmyV605H09ymKayJwxRz22ysb2V2PZLpZ2bHASCeq0NIXGbyRS9nFLd9pBumhebQxgnHV0aHxht6MqZ-_lJQlAzG68HcxExGlqd5E9jTgkqwy8-V5WzTUoss0azsJseXqtMOXf/s1600/Annie+Green.jpg" height="400" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My great grandmother, Annie Wenman, born Greene,<br />
tending her garden in Chapel Lane, Longford.</td></tr>
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I was interested to see that my family's landlord was Lord Longford, otherwise known as the <a href="http://www.chch.ox.ac.uk/cathedral/memorials/WW1/Thomas-Pakenham-Longford" target="_blank">5th Earl of Longford, Thomas Pakenham</a>. He was the landlord for just two of the homes on Chapel Lane which surprised me. My assumption had been that just one landowner would have owned all the homes in the area. Lord Longford made his career in the Life Guards but was killed in action during the Battle of Scimitar Hill at Gallipoli in 1915. He was clearly a brave and fearless soldier. Whether he was a good landlord I do not know, but I like to think he was.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUm-ANDkEdL7JWDwAoqRO9muLXKqAUCa6XD6Tgfit0EwwHsEIuAq3jf10DDkPGMy7aR7MfVT3C-CkfYTNY_cFMDRm2-bSkoQX0TYtgNc27g6d-6_dZX7V_5r7hUE7Sh1CBsi9UdAvlFzo-/s1600/census.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUm-ANDkEdL7JWDwAoqRO9muLXKqAUCa6XD6Tgfit0EwwHsEIuAq3jf10DDkPGMy7aR7MfVT3C-CkfYTNY_cFMDRm2-bSkoQX0TYtgNc27g6d-6_dZX7V_5r7hUE7Sh1CBsi9UdAvlFzo-/s1600/census.PNG" height="255" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1911 House and Building Return for Chapel Lane, Longford</td></tr>
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I can't believe it's taken me this long to really delve into the type of house that my ancestors in Ireland lived in at the beginning of the twentieth century. Photos have always made my Irish ancestors look a little ragged, a little worn around the edges, but they clearly had a sturdy home. It may have been rather crowded, and was probably rather noisy but it would have kept them warm and dry. Their small property was their cave, their castle, their island. I believe Chapel Lane was their home for many years; it was their refuge against a fast-changing and increasingly unpredictable world.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-74501263815566536932014-06-22T20:48:00.000+01:002014-06-22T20:48:13.445+01:00Ernest Addington Pitts: A Genealogist's DreamIt was his name that attracted me. Ernest Addington Pitts. Not quite double barrelled but still with an air of gentility to it. As it turns out, Ernest may have started as a young man living on independent means but he didn't necessarily end up that way.<br />
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He was a dream ancestor to research - I found him on every census; there were migratory records; divorce records; he's mentioned briefly in a book; he appears on electoral rolls; in prison records; his WW1 service record survived the destruction of so many others during WW2; and to end the story of his life, he had a brief obituary in his local paper.<br />
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Ernest is my third cousin, three times removed. So he's fairly distant. Our shared ancestor is my five times grandfather, Luke Addington, a Bedfordshire ag lab through and through, who was Ernest's two times grandfather.</div>
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Ernest's grandfather, Isaac Pitts, is listed on the various census records as a slater, a masoner or a bricklayer. On one census he calls himself a proprietor of houses which I believe means he owned and rented out homes. He had clearly found himself in the property business and although living apart from Ernest's grandmother for most of their marriage, he was able to put his children through boarding school and leave £300 to his wife in his will.</div>
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Ernest's father, also called Isaac, lived by independent means or as an <a href="http://rmhh.co.uk/occup/a.html" target="_blank">annuitant</a> all his life. So in 1873 Ernest was born into a comfortable home in <a href="http://www.bedfordshire.gov.uk/CommunityAndLiving/ArchivesAndRecordOffice/CommunityArchives/Chawston/ChawstonIndexOfPages.aspx" target="_blank">Chawston</a>, Bedfordshire, a small hamlet eight miles north-east of the county town of Bedford.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcOZG4dGhiwPppUH4JuXJm6stYzxPJ2sw4bWg7MDi0WXMNYJpSGb1srT5NnHeYw4CN1796U6qb6mtUFjB_XRzM6flE6Yr2Ne25JPiu-Q2Ytn5htUuTKv8ObWueWZNp2Gsw50rMXq8-c_w/s1600/chawston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTcOZG4dGhiwPppUH4JuXJm6stYzxPJ2sw4bWg7MDi0WXMNYJpSGb1srT5NnHeYw4CN1796U6qb6mtUFjB_XRzM6flE6Yr2Ne25JPiu-Q2Ytn5htUuTKv8ObWueWZNp2Gsw50rMXq8-c_w/s1600/chawston.jpg" height="295" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chawston, late 19th century</td></tr>
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At the age of 7, in 1881, he was living with his parents in his grandmother's home, Box Cottage, in Chawston. The family must have been living comfortably off of his grandfather's pension as his grandmother and parents are listed as annuitants, and Ernest is a scholar. Ten years later, Ernest and his parents are still living off their own means, helped along by the £450 that his grandmother had left in her will, having died eight years previously. Ernest's father Isaac describes himself as a gentleman in the probate records.<br />
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Isaac died in June 1891 leaving a substantial sum behind him. But how much of this money made it to his widow and son needs to be ascertained as by the turn of the century they were both living in central Bedford with Ernest making a living as a commercial traveller.<br />
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At some point on his travels, Ernest met Edith Heydon and they were married in August 1901 in Marylebone, London. Edith was the daughter of a coal merchant from Devon. Ernest's address at the time of his wedding was the rather impressive sounding <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regent_Street" target="_blank">292 Regent Street, London</a>. A grand thoroughfare today, at the time of Ernest's residence it was being substantially rebuilt, taking on the appearance we see now, so it may not have been quite as grand as one imagines.<br />
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It is around this time that Ernest starts to stray from his hitherto good reputation. Quite unexpectedly I came across a prison record for him! In the first decade of the twentieth century, Ernest had been making a living as a 'stationer and fancy goods dealer' in Clapham Junction, London. However, in 1907 he was sentenced to 12 months in Wormwood Scrubs for obtaining property by false pretences, unlawfully obtaining credit, common law forgery and uttering. His citation states that he'd been up to no good since at least 1903. It appears my Ernest was a bit of a forger. Thankfully, on release from prison he was able to continue his stationer's business for a few more years.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7wa4cxyfW1WPxGcadTDkRKKqQ6iL_4k6q0JQgLRHyH_qOmNs66zjSP62JzpGHu5-d6LTDhOLI7X7_7uqEoN8KRE3S-bgXHP8jsMNuXEKbbLJVbcrvxafeHoUVUHxefBA26veeVlGjIFx/s1600/warders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb7wa4cxyfW1WPxGcadTDkRKKqQ6iL_4k6q0JQgLRHyH_qOmNs66zjSP62JzpGHu5-d6LTDhOLI7X7_7uqEoN8KRE3S-bgXHP8jsMNuXEKbbLJVbcrvxafeHoUVUHxefBA26veeVlGjIFx/s1600/warders.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the clink</td></tr>
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But it's also around this time that Ernest's marriage to Edith starts to look a little unsettled. On the 1911 census, Ernest is living in Sherborne, Dorset and states his occupation to be an organist. Edith meanwhile is living with her mother in Woking, Surrey, along with John, her three month old son by Ernest. Had she left him because of his criminal activities or for other reasons, yet to be discovered?<br />
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In 1914 with the outbreak of war, Ernest immediately enlisted. However as he was 41 in 1914, and also said he was a dairy farmer on his enlistment records, he was assigned to the 447th Agricultural Company in the Labour Corps, and consequently did not see military action overseas. He would have worked on the land ensuring food production was kept up at a time when there were major labour shortages. He began his Labour Corps career as a private with the Royal Bucks Hussars Reserve Regiment, but steadily rose up the ranks until, in 1917, he was promoted to Company Quartermaster Sergeant. He did well during the war years though he believed that the rheumatism that he developed in his feet was due to his war service. Was he not used to being on his feet all day? The army were having none of it though. They rejected outright his claim for a war pension stating his symptoms appeared to be 'subjective'.<br />
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Between his demobilisation in 1919 and 1925, Ernest appears to have continued his occupation as a dairy farmer. He co-owned a business in Islington, London called "E Jones: Dairymen, Cow-keepers and Provision Merchants". Whether Edith is with him I cannot tell, but I think it is unlikely. Most of her life from 1911 onwards appears to have centred around Woking.<br />
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In March 1925 Ernest's life was to change forever when, aged 51, he boarded the <a href="http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1689515/digital-photograph-passengers-on-deck-of-ss-ballarat-arriving-at-station-pier-port-melbourne-1925" target="_blank">S.S. Ballarat</a>, destination Australia. He settled in New South Wales and initially made his living as a driver. His wife and son did not emigrate with him and in 1935 Edith filed for divorce. Interestingly, within two years both had remarried. It's clear that new prospective marriage partners had prompted the need to separate offiicially so that both could marry again. In Ernest's case he married Beatrice Wyatt in 1936 in Sydney, citing 'organist' as his occupation.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIiWXRToGjbfEq3Yre-mjZ92ZHSE9Dk3KIk9EHEoPYk_npUd4RErCZnJgO9wXe0DUgRfZX2eSgATfv73c0jY02i3Mgkw__nSGpfGSf25YKHjd-0XJfzBm-9twkXM_x7jcsO3KnHCCAUxD/s1600/BALLARAT_348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTIiWXRToGjbfEq3Yre-mjZ92ZHSE9Dk3KIk9EHEoPYk_npUd4RErCZnJgO9wXe0DUgRfZX2eSgATfv73c0jY02i3Mgkw__nSGpfGSf25YKHjd-0XJfzBm-9twkXM_x7jcsO3KnHCCAUxD/s1600/BALLARAT_348.jpg" height="252" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SS Ballarat</td></tr>
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Ernest as an organist is one side of his life which crops up time and again. He gets a blink-and-you-miss-it mention in a book by Anthony Paice called '<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Professional-Beggar-Made-Community/dp/1438908113/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1403448727&sr=8-4&keywords=the+professional+beggar" target="_blank">The Professional Beggar</a>' (about the life of a Surrey clergyman) where it states Ernest was the organist at <a href="http://www.wisleywithpyrford.org/our3churches.htm" target="_blank">St Nicholas' Church</a> in Pyrford, Surrey. And in a June 1895 issue of the Northampton Mercury, Ernest is mentioned as the organist at the wedding of a Miss Tyringham and Captain Cookson at Turvey in Bedfordshire. He states on the 1911 census that his occupation is organist, and likewise on several Australian electoral rolls.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXFaGow6EJ2BTVOwp0GVLeBX6sMqMI_ZpnMLJr5r1Rg0b6ry8pNO2DKSjfmyJgPlZ3B0JHCOHIvxbAaxs21oNQRCkywLuWSxh6LxZp46_ZuaGVCip6eqLD7UlVTKoa0GW3zsxgB56bzcQ/s1600/organist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXFaGow6EJ2BTVOwp0GVLeBX6sMqMI_ZpnMLJr5r1Rg0b6ry8pNO2DKSjfmyJgPlZ3B0JHCOHIvxbAaxs21oNQRCkywLuWSxh6LxZp46_ZuaGVCip6eqLD7UlVTKoa0GW3zsxgB56bzcQ/s1600/organist.jpg" height="400" width="342" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Organist</td></tr>
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Beatrice and Ernest lived together until his death just two years later in 1938. His brief obituary in the Sydney Morning Herald says simply: "February 27 1938 at the Masonic Hospital, Ashfield. Ernest Addington Pitts, dearly loved husband of Beatrice M. Pitts."<br />
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I loved researching Ernest. Records for his life seemed to be falling around my ears. Perhaps it's because he has a fairly unique name, and one that not many transcribers stumbled over, that the available records were easily found and accessed. There were so many different types of records available too - migration, census, prison, bmd - that his life became well rounded and interesting. He definitely seemed to have two sides to his nature. He was not averse to trying his luck for his own ends, whether it be through forgery or attempting to weasle a pension out of the army. And yet he was also a church musician, a passionate organist. Was this where Ernest's true vocation lay? He was relatively young when he died, only 64, but his life was packed with incident and variety. I think he was a real go-getter, not afraid to try new things. For some reason I visualise him as a tall man with glasses. But mostly I picture him as seated at a church organ, lost in the music he is making, serene and content, if only for just that moment in time.</div>
Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-3176362749873355502013-08-18T13:26:00.000+01:002013-08-18T13:26:24.455+01:00Strangers in a small villageDuring a trawl through the <a href="http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/" target="_blank">British Newspaper Archive</a> on <a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/search/newspapers" target="_blank">Find My Past</a> the other day I came across this wonderful little cutting from the Luton Times and Advertiser. I was searching for anything to do with Tempsford, the small village in Bedfordshire where my paternal grandmother hailed from. This article, dated 6 April 1894, recalls the occasion that two strangers were spotted in the village and the misconception that these two gents, being outsiders, were up to no good.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjRvo36epBFTg8BnQaIi0RaMiu_3QqNntq3Zvc_c9fyRAuYtSEzQWHN9faeYXRWjLD2QdQtkHvhSbZAZjTYJ9EwsoPFPo4lPBbB-qQMYIVU-SutNrU05Azfo9EisTJGOcjSHje1wS1ajq/s1600/Luton+Times+and+Advertiser+6+April+1894+suspicious+strangers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkjRvo36epBFTg8BnQaIi0RaMiu_3QqNntq3Zvc_c9fyRAuYtSEzQWHN9faeYXRWjLD2QdQtkHvhSbZAZjTYJ9EwsoPFPo4lPBbB-qQMYIVU-SutNrU05Azfo9EisTJGOcjSHje1wS1ajq/s640/Luton+Times+and+Advertiser+6+April+1894+suspicious+strangers.jpg" width="352" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Luton Times and Advertiser, 6 Aprl 1894</td></tr>
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It's probably a good thing that these two young men weren't apprehended. The idea that their assailants intended to 'break every bone' in their bodies is rather disconcerting.<br />
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Tempsford has always been a small village. In the <a href="http://www.visionofbritain.org.uk/unit/10155563/cube/TOT_POP" target="_blank">1891</a> census the population was recorded as 492 people. By <a href="http://www.centralbedfordshire.gov.uk/Images/Population%20of%20towns%2C%20parishes%20and%20wards_tcm6-45849.pdf#False" target="_blank">2011</a> the number of residents had increased by just 100. Even though the village is cut in half by the Great North Road (now known as the A1), its size meant that all the inhabitants in the village would have known everyone else. They would have farmed the same fields, lived side by side in their small cottages and married into each other's families. I've discovered in my family history that during the 19th century, my ancestors from Tempsford, the Cullips, were connected to virtually all of the main families of the village by marriage alone.<br />
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So two strangers in the village stood out like a sore thumb, as they would have done in a thousand other villages of this type throughout the British Isles. It's a shame it was not reported who they were visiting, where they were from (a large town or city perhaps where strangers could easily disappear into a crowd) or why they did not respond to the many curious enquiries made toward them regarding their intentions on that Good Friday eve. Still, if they had put the people of Tempsford out of their misery and revealed they were visiting friends, it's likely that this article would not have been written. Many years on, the curious reader would have been deprived of a fast paced and exciting account, which, although somewhat a let down at the end, provided a snapshot into the mindset of a small Bedfordshire village at the end of the Victorian era.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-656160163250921112013-08-02T19:44:00.000+01:002013-08-02T19:44:11.287+01:00Voices from the PastA few days across I discovered the British Library's website of accents and dialects. This is a wonderful find for me as it has added a whole new level of insight into my long ago ancestors. (Visit the British Library's website <a href="http://sounds.bl.uk/Accents-and-dialects" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
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I was particularly charmed by the recording of an old gentleman, Mr Simons, from Great Barford in Bedfordshire. This lovely piece of <a href="http://sounds.bl.uk/Accents-and-dialects/Survey-of-English-dialects/021M-C0908X0063XX-0700V1" target="_blank">audio</a> immediately evoked the images and sounds of my ancestors who also came from this part of the world. Great Barford is, as the crow flies, about three miles from Tempsford, the small village where my paternal grandmother was born and where her father, and his father, and his father before him lived, married, worked, played and died. It's quite difficult to understand what he's saying as the dialect is so strong, but his tale of a runaway bull and mention of cobs (horses), calves, fields and 'cow-hovels' conjures up visions of life on the land and in the farmyard.<br />
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My family in Tempsford were predominantly agricultural labourers and would have been familiar with the villages Mr Simons mentions and the life he describes. I immediately imagined I could hear the voice of my 2 x Great Grandfather, Thomas Cullip, who was born in 1827 in Blunham, the next village down the Great North Road from Tempsford. Blunham is one of the villages that Mr Simon's mentions in his anecdote. Thomas' father, Joseph, was born in 1803, most likely in Roxton, just two miles up the Bedford Road from Great Barford. All these villages were within a few miles of each other and I've found in my research that the lives of my ancestors took them from one village to the next. For instance Thomas was born in Blunham, lived for a time in Roxton, yet married, lived and died in Tempsford. For this reason I can only conclude that the dialect spoken by Mr Simons in Great Barford would have been shared by my ancestors in this small knot of villages.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggn5VddtU3c7DuMvtKDFjxpZ_RBlYD20MA-Nez_8zM_LJGRE8_J2cCtKpPdPX_-erdsPgHRSmARmnPNQGM39Z_YuWtJeACPdUWjqfL8OqzkY9_Yv5iVb-HCJDzrYf30nYMWC4Owl0ymlF4/s1600/Beds+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggn5VddtU3c7DuMvtKDFjxpZ_RBlYD20MA-Nez_8zM_LJGRE8_J2cCtKpPdPX_-erdsPgHRSmARmnPNQGM39Z_YuWtJeACPdUWjqfL8OqzkY9_Yv5iVb-HCJDzrYf30nYMWC4Owl0ymlF4/s1600/Beds+map.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Map of Bedfordshire showing Great Barford, Tempsford, Blunham and Roxton.<br />
1898-1901 (scale 1:50,000)</td></tr>
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Of course it's entirely possible that Mr Simons did not come from this part of Bedfordshire at all. However, this recording, made in 1958, forms part of the <a href="http://sounds.bl.uk/Accents-and-dialects/Survey-of-English-dialects" target="_blank">Survey of English Dialects</a>, a project undertaken in the 1950s by the University of Leeds to capture, as the website states, "traditional dialect... best preserved in isolated areas". It is unlikely the researchers would have travelled to this village to record someone who came from another place entirely.<br />
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Being able to hear Mr Simons' voice speaking of life in rural Bedfordshire has helped to bring my Tempsford ancestors to life and added a whole new dimension to my perception of their lives. I heartily recommend that everyone should take a look at this website and see whether a voice can be heard that helps to bring their ancestors just that little bit closer.<br />
<br />Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-74559708098864744612013-03-17T09:52:00.000+00:002013-03-17T09:52:41.515+00:00My Family During the WarMy mum and dad were both children in 1939 when war was declared against Germany. I had never really understood what life was like for them during this period of history so I decided it was about time I found out. My mum is no longer with us, but her sister, my Auntie Trixie, has provided me with a wealth of information. My dad could also be relied upon to share his memories. In both cases, once the box was prized open, the stories poured out. Much laughter ensued as incidents and anecdotes were recalled for the first time in many years and I scribbled frantically to write it all down.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad on the left with a pal</td></tr>
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Both my parents were seven years old at the outbreak of war. My dad lived with his family in East Finchley, north London. He wasn't evacuated but stayed at home for the duration. He has vivid memories of watching the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/battle_of_britain" target="_blank">Battle of Britain</a> take place in the skies above him and for an eight-year old boy, with no real conception of life and death, this must have been one of the most exciting events to witness of his life so far. He can also recall the red glow in the sky as London burned during the height of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Blitz" target="_blank">Blitz</a>. <br />
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Small boys feel no fear. When the air raid siren sounded my father recollects sauntering down the road with a pal in no immediate hurry to get to the safety of the shelter. It was only when the air raid warden blew his whistle and shouted at them in no uncertain terms that they would make a dash for cover, most likely with a clip around the ear for punishment. Craters in the street and bombed out houses were a common sight, though luckily my father's road and its immediate surrounds were not hit. Dad remembers walking down a street one day and coming across a crater where a doodlebug had hit the day before. These sorts of happenings provided endless fascination and excitement. The exhilaration of London at war was not to last however. Tragedy struck the family when my dad's older brother,<a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/joseph-roy-stracey-1922-1942-and-hms.html" target="_blank"> Joseph Roy</a>, was killed whilst serving on HMS Hermes in the Indian Ocean. My father was only 10 but suddenly the reality of war was driven home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6n77rIxighKZfRPDvihJbCmGSJRBP3gvniHYWcwL3g5PG5pS91CNWTOhPmhYchA5fn8b-ya4VNDuRyKxQ8IWKHMDY5HBCUKXWZ9GsGqnI2jHSnYyPQVBpBhYUKiY3BTMeKxlnvRyN70y/s1600/Mum,+Ernie+and+Trixie+in+Ireland+-+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6n77rIxighKZfRPDvihJbCmGSJRBP3gvniHYWcwL3g5PG5pS91CNWTOhPmhYchA5fn8b-ya4VNDuRyKxQ8IWKHMDY5HBCUKXWZ9GsGqnI2jHSnYyPQVBpBhYUKiY3BTMeKxlnvRyN70y/s320/Mum,+Ernie+and+Trixie+in+Ireland+-+cropped.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mum, Uncle Ernie and Auntie Trixie<br />
(with uncontrollable red hair!)</td></tr>
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There were no such tragedies for my mother and her family, though there was a very near miss! When war broke out my mother was living in Chelsea, in the heart of London, with her parents and two of her siblings. Her youngest brother was in Ireland with my grandfather's parents. When the family had come to England from Ireland in the late thirties it was decided to leave my Uncle Noel, then a toddler, behind, until the family were settled. Unfortunately the outbreak of war meant he was not able to join them until 1944 when he was nine years old. My aunt recalls going to collect him from Ireland and being aware that <a href="http://www.uboat.net/" target="_blank">German U-Boats</a> still patrolled the waters of the Irish Sea. But, being children, submarines were exciting rather than something to be scared of. I imagine my grandparents had rather different feelings on the subject during that crossing.<br />
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My mother's oldest brother, my Uncle Ernie, was also separated from his parents for a time. At the start of the war he had been sent to stay with his Grandma Lawton, my great-grandmother, in Sutton-in-Ashfield in Nottinghamshire, to convalesce following an illness. My great-grandmother was adamant that my mother and my aunt should join them to get them away from the dangers of the London blitz. My Nan however wanted her girls close and refused to let them go. It was only when my great-grandmother threatened to come down and collect them herself that my Nan relented and took her two daughters on the train to Nottinghamshire.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZebGmouc6xDyo4dLkf2thOqa25CZ7b4KVqiDxqLsxU3wSmpRYriB8E5vckULZX5VVL3ovlYvzZK2oUXiSczQoBrcc2QRAHT1WU02G81vXKVEwIK0MKlZg6gd7hv3N7BjYsqH16Tev2A43/s1600/blitz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZebGmouc6xDyo4dLkf2thOqa25CZ7b4KVqiDxqLsxU3wSmpRYriB8E5vckULZX5VVL3ovlYvzZK2oUXiSczQoBrcc2QRAHT1WU02G81vXKVEwIK0MKlZg6gd7hv3N7BjYsqH16Tev2A43/s400/blitz.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #60615e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.796875px; text-align: left;">Life goes on in wartime London, 1940 © IWM (D 1303)<br />(</span><span style="color: #60615e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.796875px;">http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205196794)</span></span></td></tr>
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And it's a good thing that they left that day as on that night in 1940 a bomb hit the block of flats where my family were living. It destroyed about a quarter of the building, unfortunately the quarter where my family had their home. My grandfather, who was now the only one at home and who had been asleep in bed at the time, dropped three floors. He survived because somehow his bed turned over in the fall and shielded him from the falling rubble. My poor Nan returned from Sutton-in-Ashfield, having left her daughters with her mother, to find her home destroyed and her husband in hospital. Luckily Grandad made a full recovery from his ordeal. But he was not the only one injured by the bomb. The old lady who lived across the hall was woken by the noise although her flat was not damaged. However, hearing the commotion she opened her front door to see what was going on and promptly fell three stories down. The hallway was no longer there! My aunt believes she survived. The bomb had fallen through my mother's and aunt's bedroom where they had been sleeping the night before. Did Grandma Lawton have a premonition that something was going to happen which is why she was so persistent that the girls be evacuated? We'll never know. But it's lucky she did as I would not be here today if it wasn't for her insistence.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYpTt3_GpLq9RBxnZN9-xDpKb5I05g9UT9tWxwDjj140Iy6oCJp-5yaakHtLAICVBWflDs2BBFGgNVm9zdjadMe6v97-GcMS1ERYAyI6vNRRFvVQsQGiL53c08adDe6Uiy_hsKJpMaSdO/s1600/Clara+Lawton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpYpTt3_GpLq9RBxnZN9-xDpKb5I05g9UT9tWxwDjj140Iy6oCJp-5yaakHtLAICVBWflDs2BBFGgNVm9zdjadMe6v97-GcMS1ERYAyI6vNRRFvVQsQGiL53c08adDe6Uiy_hsKJpMaSdO/s320/Clara+Lawton.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Lawton</td></tr>
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Grandma Lawton decided that she couldn't look after all three
siblings herself so my aunt was sent to live with another relative a few minutes walk away whilst my uncle and mother stayed with their grandmother. Grandma Lawton was, by all accounts, quite a strict lady. The children would be told off for staring at themselves in the mirror. And my aunt recollects how, because her grandmother struggled to get a comb through my aunt's unruly mop of curly red hair, she was sent down to the hairdressers to have it all cut off. Of course, it grew back as curly as before.<br />
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After a year in Sutton-in-Ashfield all three children returned to London. All seemed quiet but the attacks weren't over as it was not long before the infamous doodlebugs were to inflict their particular brand of terror and destruction on the populace. But for the children it was still a time of excitement. Back home in Chelsea, they returned to a new block of flats looked after by a warden who insisted all the children were home by 9pm. The children and their little gang of friends would have
great fun running away from him when he was trying to get them inside.
He would go and knock on Nan’s door who would deny all knowledge of her
children still being outside and claim they were safely in. My naughty Nan! Bombed-out houses
were sources of great adventure. The children would clamber over the wreckage, balancing over shattered floorboards through which they could see the floor and rubble beneath.</div>
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It was a time of danger and fun, excitement and tragedy. These were lives being lived and appreciated to their fullest extent. My auntie will be 82 this year and my dad will be 81. It's hard to imagine the child within, but just get them talking and the child soon returns.</div>
Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-24139087097717767312013-01-20T17:07:00.001+00:002013-01-20T17:07:56.387+00:00A Witness to HistoryFamily legends are wonderful tools for the family historian. How often do they turn out to be real and how often complete fiction? It's usually the case that a story started out truthful but, through Chinese whispers, ended up somewhat different. Through careful probing and research, it's possible to get to the root of the matter so that the actual facts emerge. One of our family legends is that, as a young woman, my paternal grandmother, Esther May Cullip, observed a little bit of history as it happened. The story goes that, in 1916, Esther May witnessed the first ever shooting down of a German airship, watching it fall out of the skies. That year there were two incidents involving airships being shot down, both happening within a month of each other and in the same area. Family legend says my grandmother saw the first airship be destroyed, but whether or not this is the case, I do believe that Esther May witnessed one of these incidents in the autumn of 1916.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiocNQ3FvVEUDM8VXM0KcaaoYArcuEqEZtWUmWDR0LOOSxW_mU-aN50pEgb_fVnMUUJubaKTHTw-WW5T4No8mOUOz0sn2luKrjj7HBDIjhml9bOKSVQudi4Kx1QnOCA7e_CB0ZEJridAPHB/s1600/zeppelin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiocNQ3FvVEUDM8VXM0KcaaoYArcuEqEZtWUmWDR0LOOSxW_mU-aN50pEgb_fVnMUUJubaKTHTw-WW5T4No8mOUOz0sn2luKrjj7HBDIjhml9bOKSVQudi4Kx1QnOCA7e_CB0ZEJridAPHB/s320/zeppelin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Zeppelin airship</td></tr>
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeppelin" target="_blank">The Zeppelin Raids</a> had begun a year earlier when Germany's ruler, Kaiser Wilhelm II, gave his approval for airships to cross the English Channel and target military establishments in places such as East Anglia and the south coast of England. He initially forbade the bombing of London due to the risk of killing a member of the royal family! King George V was his first cousin after all. However by the end of the year, raids were being carried out over the capital city.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGU1ruxYeNEMenBnHUmo2AQjF1OZWplbhweetb687pMPjtyydWqRmTJjUXNJl6MXHYqcw0hN3vvytAdOx6x_zw3Y0fPcNMNcMPUXNr9Ajbizfr9c5Mu7DI9awgeuuGSUo-F9nnuzsrsDUA/s1600/zeppelin-cuffley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGU1ruxYeNEMenBnHUmo2AQjF1OZWplbhweetb687pMPjtyydWqRmTJjUXNJl6MXHYqcw0hN3vvytAdOx6x_zw3Y0fPcNMNcMPUXNr9Ajbizfr9c5Mu7DI9awgeuuGSUo-F9nnuzsrsDUA/s320/zeppelin-cuffley.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The airship falling over Cuffley</td></tr>
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The first airship to be shot down over British soil happened in the small hours of 3rd September 1916. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leefe_Robinson#cite_note-4" target="_blank">Lt Leefe Robinson</a> spotted the ship whilst on night patrol in his fighter plane. Approaching the airship from below he emptied his machine gun first into one the side of the ship, then the other, before firing shots into the rear. The back of the ship burst into flames resulting in the Schutte-Lanz SL11 ploughing into the ground in Cuffley, Hertfordshire. A dreadful choice had to be made by the crew. Should they jump or await the horrible fate of burning to death. Whatever their decision, the commander of the ship and his 15-man crew all perished.<br />
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As the crow flies, Cuffley is about eight miles from East Finchley and judging by newspaper accounts of the day, the event was witnessed by thousands of Londoners:<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"The most amazing fact in connection with the downing of a Zeppelin on Saturday night, was the immense number of people who witnessed the spectacle despite the lateness of the hour. Warning of an imminent raid was given out early, and spread with astonishing speed by hundreds of channels which each fresh raid increases. Thus many thousand Londoners remained out of their beds out of curiosity awaiting development, in the hope that, if the raid materialised, they would see what was to be seen.</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>When the raiders approached the capital, the firing of guns and the dropping of exploding bombs seemed to wake up half London. Thus the actual burning was witnessed from every suburb and almost from every street. The Zeppelin's height enabled the watchers for miles around to gaze at the awe-inspiring spectacle, and its absorbing brilliancy as the airship fell."</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
(<a href="http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/33608563" target="_blank">The Great War in Europe, Kalgoorlie Western Argus, 12 Sept 1916</a>)</blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_tJYA4t59biWK2IJOY9JYCkXTes9Zeni2eya0d2JkjQJMQkVNINt9TKRfVY3KwanatDuYjAYmQi0VVNmARxi1HxI0JFmHTu7XxVlVd95On_5OxxDFWMkfbJf-0Z-09ldmHzYyUPo30X7/s1600/Esther+May+&+Gladys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_tJYA4t59biWK2IJOY9JYCkXTes9Zeni2eya0d2JkjQJMQkVNINt9TKRfVY3KwanatDuYjAYmQi0VVNmARxi1HxI0JFmHTu7XxVlVd95On_5OxxDFWMkfbJf-0Z-09ldmHzYyUPo30X7/s320/Esther+May+&+Gladys.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Esther May and Gladys, c.1917</td></tr>
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My grandmother lived her entire life in East Finchley, north London, and by the beginning of September 1916 she was a new mother with a six week old daughter on her hands. Perhaps the crying of a small baby meant that Esther May was awake at 2am in the morning, or maybe it was the sound of gun fire and explosions that woke her up and drove her outside to watch this extraordinary event take place in front of her eyes. For my grandmother, a little bit of the war had come to her doorstep.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Zeppelin L31 falling<br />over Potters Bar</td></tr>
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The second airship was shot down less than a month later. On 1st October 1916, 2nd Lt Wulstan Tempest was responsible for the destruction of Zeppelin L31. This ship crashed into an oak tree in Potters Bar, Hertfordshire. Again, the whole crew died and their death was witnessed by thousands of Londoners who watched as the burning ship crashed to earth.<br />
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I'll never know which airship Esther May saw falling from the skies. I like to believe it was SL11, the first and most famous of the airships shot down over Britain. Either way, my grandmother did witness a bit of history in the making. But we mustn't forget that even though a burning airship would have been a dramatic spectacle to watch, it was also a tragedy, as all the German airmen died in horrible circumstances. The Zeppelin Raids aren't well remembered due to the overwhelming horror of the Blitz and the destruction wrought on Britain by the German air raids of the Second World War. So let us not forget the 500 civilians, all over the country, who died when a bit of World War One came to their shores.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-52765863580693361482013-01-06T11:46:00.000+00:002013-01-06T11:46:36.159+00:00Levi Alfred King 1892-1954It's been nearly two months since I last wrote on my blog. Not good, slapped wrists! So I've made one of my new year's resolutions for 2013 to blog more. To start things off here is a post about an ancestor whom I have chosen completely at random (I closed my eyes and picked his name off a list!).<br />
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Levi Alfred King is a fairly distant relation, the husband of my second cousin twice removed on my father's side. However he's one of the few people whose First World War service record survived the bombing during the 1940 Blitz in London and so I've got a pretty full account of his wartime experience.<br />
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But I'm jumping the gun. As Julie Andrews would say, let's start at the very beginning...<br />
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Levi was born in the first months of 1892 in Hadley Wood, Barnet, in what was then the county of Middlesex. This was a quiet, rural part of the world where his father, Alfred, was employed as an ostler at a local inn and his mother, Edith, was a dressmaker.<br />
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I'm quite curious as to why he was baptized Levi. His siblings all had more traditional Victorian names such as Henry, Arthur and Florence. Interestingly though, in a <a href="http://www.baby2see.com/names/1890s.html" target="_blank">survey</a> of the top 1000 names in the 1890s in the US, Levi was number 207, so by no means an unpopular name.<br />
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Life was ordinary for the first years of Levi's life. He was to be joined by five brothers and sisters, all of whom survived childhood, and with 13 years separating the eldest from the youngest, it must have been a noisy and chaotic household.<br />
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By 1914 the 22-year old Levi had reached the height of 5 ft 11 inches and at 121 lbs must have been fairly tall and thin. He was employed as an Emulsion Washer in a photographic studio. I'm not quite sure what an Emulsion Washer did but I'm thrilled to think he worked in what was still a pioneering industry, even though his job may have been quite menial.<br />
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His work in a photographic studio wasn't to last for much longer however, as in August of that year Britain declared war on Germany. Levi was the perfect age to sign up and serve his country and enlistment was to follow a year later on 23rd October 1915. At the age of 23 years and 10 months Levi enlisted in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Royal_Army_Medical_Corps" target="_blank">Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC)</a>. He stayed on home soil until August 1916 after which he was posted to France and Flanders.<br />
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The job of the RAMC was to provide medical backup to the front line troops. They operated the <a href="http://www.1914-1918.net/fieldambulances.htm" target="_blank">Field Ambulances</a> and the <a href="http://www.1914-1918.net/ccs.htm" target="_blank">Casualty Clearing Stations</a> (CCS) where injured men were sent to be treated before returning to the trenches or before being moved on to one of the <a href="http://www.1914-1918.net/hospitals.htm" target="_blank">Base Hospitals</a> which were also operated by the RAMC.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The RAMC at work on World War One battlefields</td></tr>
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Levi was initially posted to the 70th Field Ambulance in September 1916. A couple of months later in November he was posted to Casualty Clearing Station 17 at Remy Siding, near Poperinge in Belgium where he was to spend the remainder of the war. He was even admitted a couple of times to his own CCS suffering from ailments such as influenza which laid him low for six days.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The buildings at Remy Siding in 1920</td></tr>
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Remy Siding was so named because of its location next to the railway line which linked the CCS to Poperinge. The town itself was close to the battlefields of Ypres, Messines Ridge and Ploegsteert Wood, and as can be seen on the map, there were trenches situated fairly close to the CCS. Although Levi wasn't a fighting soldier, he would have witnessed more than his fair share of appalling sights. One can only imagine the atrocities that he would have seen: dreadful injuries, death and anguish on a far too common basis.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trench map showing the location of CCS 17 at Remy Siding</td></tr>
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Nevertheless there was some relief from the war for Levi, for in December 1917 he was granted 14 days leave to return home and marry his sweetheart, Emily Esther Cullip. They were married in Christ Church, Barnet with their family and friends around them.<br />
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But this was only a short respite as, too quickly, Levi had to return to the war. He would be away from home until February 1919 when he was demobilised and able to return to his new wife. His time in the RAMC had been exemplary with no misdemeanours to blight his service record. He was rewarded with the British War Medal and Victory Medal.<br />
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As is so often the case in those years following the 1911 census and World War One, the story of Levi's life goes cold. However I do know that he had at least one daughter, Gladys, born in 1924 and that he died in 1954 at the age of 62, still resident in Barnet. He left a grand total of £376 14s 4d in his will, a tidy sum in those days.<br />
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Writing a blog about a randomly selected ancestor brings them to life. I'd not really thought about Levi much before (no disrespect intended), but looking back over his life and looking at the surviving records which tell us the dates and facts about his existence he has become real to me. I now picture a fairly tall, skinny man, conscientious in his work, honest and law-abiding, and for some strange reason, dark haired and with a moustache! I can't back up those last details but I'm sure I'm right about the rest...Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-82558839071603810802012-11-11T11:45:00.000+00:002012-11-11T11:45:13.641+00:00The Heroes in my Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On this day of remembrance I felt it was only appropriate to write a few words about my hero ancestors. My family is not unique. Like everyone who delves into their ancestry I have found many family members who went off to fight for their country, to 'do their bit'. Some made the ultimate sacrifice and were laid to rest where they died; some don't have a final resting place; all live on through stone memorials. Others were fortunate enough to make it through their war and return to homes and families. They may not have returned unscathed, either mentally or physically, but return they did. They aren't marked on a memorial but, like their fallen brethren, they are remembered. To me, they are all heroes.<br />
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<b>Charles Stracey 1894-1917</b><br />
My great uncle Charles was 22 years old when he died in France on 17th February 1917. A private in the 6th Battalion, Princess Charlotte of Wales (Royal Berkshire) Regiment, it's probable that he died during the action taken at Miraumont to capture several German trenches. During the early hours of the 17th February, as the troops assembled in preparation to go over the top, the Germans heavily barraged the assembly areas. Most of the day's casualties happened as a result of this barrage and I believe, as Charles' body was never recovered, that it was at this point that he died. His name is recorded on the great Thiepval Memorial to the missing in northern France.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samuel Ezekiel Hardwick</td></tr>
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<b>Samuel Ezekiel Hardwick 1881-1917</b><br />
Sam Hardwick, my great grand uncle, died of wounds on 7th April 1917. He was a private in the 8th Battalion, Queen's (Royal West Surrey) Regiment. I've been unable to work out where or when he was injured but I find it quite distressing to think that he may have suffered dreadfully in a casualty clearing station before finally succumbing to his wounds. He is buried in Calais Southern Cemetery (which I'm glad to have visited in 2010 to lay some flowers on his grave) and left behind a wife and seven year old daughter.<br />
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<b>James Ivanhoe Cullip 1894-1918</b><br />
<a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/james-ivanhoe-cullip-1894-1918.html" target="_blank">James </a>is an ancestor that I've written about before. One of my great uncles, he served as a gunner in the Royal Garrison Artillery, one of the men employed to pound the German lines with their big guns. He survived the war but tragically died two weeks before the armistice, and just one week after getting married, as a result of the Spanish Flu pandemic.<br />
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<b>Thomas William Cullip 1899-1964</b><br />
Great Uncle Thomas had been 18 years old for just two weeks when he enlisted in the Royal Navy in 1917. After training on HMS Pembroke he became a member of the crew of HMS Juno in March. He served on Juno until he was demobbed in April 1919.<br />
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<b>Albert Edward Cannon (born Cullip) Born 1897</b><br />
My first cousin twice removed, Albert Cannon, enlisted aged 19 in the Royal Garrison Artillery in 1915. Luckily for me, his is one of the few surviving service records which gives a wealth of information about his time in service. He survived the war and even volunteered for the Army of Occupation in 1919. After demobilisation in 1920 he sailed to Canada where he married and created a new life away from a war weary Europe.<br />
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<b>Albert Stracey 1883-1945</b><br />
My great uncle Albert also survived the war but suffered for the rest of his life from the effects of shell shock. He enlisted into the Royal Berkshires in 1915 at the age of 32. However, just 18 months later he was discharged from service under Paragraph 392 of King's Regulations 1912. He was deemed no longer physically fit for war service and issued with the Silver War Badge. My father remembers how Albert would sit in his chair and physically shake, an affliction he suffered with for the rest of his life.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhMMl_gY6VEeQiTv3fQ1VT-TJ5bwTj-jw7OgEnWHA-XNmxHIGeUhBENsho0i9dB8fU4bDwSwn6_tUr66wNrfXlXzpGk3PhBbp-mUF0uDLhzw8kOAuzki2qJjxWRGT431OwGekni3JNn6r/s1600/NJ+in+India+or+Mesapotamia3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhMMl_gY6VEeQiTv3fQ1VT-TJ5bwTj-jw7OgEnWHA-XNmxHIGeUhBENsho0i9dB8fU4bDwSwn6_tUr66wNrfXlXzpGk3PhBbp-mUF0uDLhzw8kOAuzki2qJjxWRGT431OwGekni3JNn6r/s200/NJ+in+India+or+Mesapotamia3.jpg" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nathaniel Joe Stracey</td></tr>
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<b>Nathaniel Joe Stracey 1891-1961</b><br />
My <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/nathaniel-joe-stracey-1891-1961-life-in.html" target="_blank">grandfather </a>is another person I've written about previously. He served in the 5th Battalion, East Kent Regiment, the 'Buffs', in Mesopotamia and India. He survived the war unscathed.<br />
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<b>John Stracey 1885-1949</b><br />
I believe my great uncle John may have been one of the Old Contemptibles. Before the war he was a soldier in the regular army, serving as a private in the 1st Bedfordshire Regiment and his medal record shows that he qualified for medals from the 16th August 1914 - he was in it from the start! He may have fought at such major battles as Mons, Ypres and the Somme. Incredibly, he survived the whole four years of war.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joseph Roy Stracey</td></tr>
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<b>Joseph Roy Stracey 1922-1942</b><br />
I've written quite a lot about my uncle Roy so please see my previous <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/joseph-roy-stracey-1922-1942-and-hms.html" target="_blank">post </a>for an account of his brief life and death. Roy was a royal marine serving on HMS Hermes when it was attacked and sunk by Japanese fighter planes on 22nd April 1942. He was only 19 when he died and his name is recorded on the Plymouth Naval Memorial.<br />
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<i><br /></i>
<i>At the going down of the sun and in the morning,</i><br />
<i>We will remember them.</i><br />
Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-12241399683212493072012-11-01T15:51:00.000+00:002012-11-01T15:51:36.600+00:00Birthplace conundrumsI'm always quite intrigued about the town or village that my ancestors put down as their birthplace. Sometimes it's straightforward: they were born, married and died in the same place so there is no deviation in the place of birth that they gave to the census enumerator. Other times it changes from census to census but its usually in the correct vicinity. Did they not know where they were born? Or was it a case of there being more than one obvious option. For instance, I was born in Bushey in Hertfordshire, yet I quite often say I was born in Watford. This is because Bushey is practically on Watford's doorstep, you can't really tell where one stops and the other begins and also because people are more likely to have heard of Watford.<br />
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Today I have been working on the life of my first cousin four times removed, Elizabeth Cullip. I had a bit of trouble searching for her records simply because of the birthplace she'd put down. I developed doubts as to whether I'd got the correct person in the census. But with a bit of lateral thinking I believe I've worked out her way of thinking and the explanation behind the varying places of birth.<br />
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Elizabeth was born in 1818 in the village of Eaton Socon in Bedfordshire. Her mother Sarah came from Boxworth which lies about 15 miles to the east in neighbouring Cambridgeshire. Her father Thomas came from Tempsford in Bedfordshire which is about six miles south of Eaton Socon. How Thomas met Sarah I don't know, but the wedding took place in Sarah's home parish of Boxworth. And how they ended up in Eaton Socon is also unknown but this is where Elizabeth was born two years later.<br />
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Sadly, Thomas died in 1819 just a year after Elizabeth was born. He was only 24 and was buried in his birth village of Tempsford. And it's at this point I had to put my lateral thinking hat on as the census records weren't telling me what I expected them to.<br />
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Elizabeth married a fellow called Robert Ward in 1838 in Boxworth. Interesting, I thought, she's married someone from her mother's home village. But why does she indicate on the 1841, 1851 and 1861 census returns that she was actually born there when she wasn't? Yes, she was living in Boxworth (she lived there until she died in 1888) and her husband was born in Boxworth, as were their four children. The census enumerator could have made a mistake, but could the same mistake occur for three decades in a row. My theory is that when her mother was widowed at such a young age, she returned to the shelter and protection of her own family in Boxworth where she raised her daughter from the age of one. Elizabeth would have been brought up thinking of Boxworth as her home village. Being the only place she'd ever known, it's clear she considered the village as the place she was actually born. And if no one put her right then Boxworth is what she would tell the census enumerators.<br />
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Things took a curious turn however on the 1871 and 1881 census records. On those she recorded her birthplace as Tempsford. So for once she'd got the correct county, but she'd still not got the right village. Perhaps by this stage she was aware that Boxworth was not her village of birth but there was clearly still no mention of Eaton Socon as the place she was actually born. It's as if this fact had been forgotten in the family for years. Instead she opted for the place where her father came from and put down Tempsford. I guess for her it was logical: she was born in Bedfordshire so it must be where her father was born.<br />
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As you can see this is all supposition, but in the absence of hard facts and without the ability to actually sit down with the person in question and quiz them about their reasons, one has to turn to supposition to come up with a logical theory. In this case guesswork is all I have but it helps when deciphering census records that thrown in sudden curve balls!Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-68421843924104619832012-10-21T20:38:00.000+01:002012-10-21T20:38:41.457+01:00The Mother Worse than the SonI absolutely loved finding this small snippet during a perusal of the British Newspaper Archive the other week. On a search for any newspaper articles about my grandmother's family, the Antcliffes, I found this article from the Derbyshire Times and Chesterfield Herald, dated 7 November 1894.<br />
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It was the title of the piece that caught my eye: "The Mother Worse than the Son". Goodness, whatever did this mother and son combo do to warrant such a headline? Well, the son, my Great Grand Uncle Fred, stole a duck! And my 2 x Great Grandmother Harriet dared to keep the duck, skin it and eat it. Dreadful stuff. She even burnt the evidence which I guess reveals that she knew she was doing wrong by accepting the offending bird from Fred in the first place.<br />
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The Antcliffes are a family that are gradually revealing their secrets to me and this article has helped to put some flesh on the bones. Knowing this one small event from their lives means I now look upon Fred and Harriet, two people I had no previous clue about, with fondness and certainly not with any disapproval for their actions. I mean, if a tasty duck came your way, and you had six children to feed, would you turn it down?<br />
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I took great pleasure in telling one of my aunts that she had 'criminal' ancestors. She was very quick to respond with the fact that I therefore had criminal ancestors too!<br />
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<a href="http://foundersandsurvivors.org/" target="_blank">Founders and Survivors</a> aims, and I quote here from the website, "to record and study the founding population of 73,000 men, women and children who were transported to Tasmania. Many survived their convict experience and went on to help build a new society".<br />
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The website would like family historians to input known details of their convict ancestors, families and descendants on to the database and is also after volunteers for the, as far as I'm concerned, very enviable job of going through the original records to find out what happened to the convicts once they'd left the system.<br />
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Having a convict ancestor myself, my three times great grandfather <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/my-convict-ancestor-joseph-cullip-1807.html" target="_blank">Joseph Cullip</a>, albeit one who managed to return to England after serving his time, I was keen to see whether he was listed on their database. He is! Which I was overjoyed to see. And I'll be sure to add some more details to the record that exists for him. I searched for him by simply inputting his surname, and was amazed to come across two more people who shared derivatives of the Cullip surname, one of whom is a very likely candidate for being an ancestor of mine. He comes from the right part of Bedfordshire so I'll be conducting some further investigation into him and I have my fingers crossed that we're related.<br />
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This very interesting newspaper article from <a href="http://www.theage.com.au/national/convict-kin-find-history-aint-no-ball-and-chain-20120922-26dzm.html" target="_blank">The Age</a> gives further information on the project.<br />
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I'd highly recommend everyone with a convict ancestor who ended up in Tasmania to check this website out. I suspect it's going to prove incredibly important for all family historians.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-51459779039646777732012-09-09T16:43:00.000+01:002012-09-09T16:43:43.314+01:00Great Aunts and UnclesMy dad had lots of aunts and uncles on his mother's side. I don't think I realised quite how how many until I started investigating my family tree. As a child I remember visiting only one of them on several occasions. And that was my dad's Auntie Dot. We'd bundle into the car, drive up to her house and have tea in what my memory recalls as a tiny front room. I never looked forward to going; I wanted to stay behind and play with my toys. But I remember ultimately I always enjoyed those visits as Auntie Dot, or should I say my Great Auntie Dot, was a lovely person. I lament those lost opportunities to have talked to her about her life and the life of her siblings; of growing up in East Finchley, north London; living through the First World War; marriage; children; enduring the bombings of the Second World War; the birth of grandchildren. And, of course, she is now long gone, along with all her brothers and sisters. So this is my small tribute to them, to the relatives that I would give my eye teeth to talk to now. Unfortunately I know very little about any of them, but I think in many cases, the photos tell their story...<br />
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My grandmother, Esther May, was the eldest of the siblings, born in 1892 to James Cullip and Ann Esther Hardwick who came from Tempsford in Bedfordshire. By the time of Esther May's birth, the couple had relocated to East Finchley where all their children were born. I'm not going to go into any detail now about my grandmother as I will most definitely be posting a full blog on her in the future.<br />
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She was followed two years later by <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/james-ivanhoe-cullip-1894-1918.html" target="_blank">James Ivanhoe</a>. I've already written at length about James. He tragically died at the close of World World One, just one week after he got married, after contracting the Spanish Flu virus. No photos have survived of him, however I do have a very poignant card that he sent to my grandmother Esther May. He must have sent it to her when he was serving in France as the card has been hand-made using a French post-card as the backing with a delicately embroidered image pasted on the front. The wording on the back simply states, 'with fondest love from Jim'.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cH2G7aPKbugRa3QWlZPaWHh-t2dbdkq4cG1t4P1VwRVf_FfRk2sN6L4w1LE0q920jWEP1D34swEX6_wS_2L6aL8iAGly-rOONzr9Gj99uYgIh2GyqZziOE4Y24rCCa3d6X_Tw7DEL6B7/s1600/Card+from+James+Cullip+to+Esther+May.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7cH2G7aPKbugRa3QWlZPaWHh-t2dbdkq4cG1t4P1VwRVf_FfRk2sN6L4w1LE0q920jWEP1D34swEX6_wS_2L6aL8iAGly-rOONzr9Gj99uYgIh2GyqZziOE4Y24rCCa3d6X_Tw7DEL6B7/s320/Card+from+James+Cullip+to+Esther+May.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The postcard that James sent to his sister, Esther May,<br />during World War One.</td></tr>
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Mabel Elizabeth, known to everyone as Lizzie, was the third born, entering this world in 1897. She married a chap called Len Stevens and had three children by him. Most of the siblings lived to a good age, but Lizzie, along with her brother James, was the exception to the rule and sadly died in 1940 at the young age of 43.<br />
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This lovely photo shows a very happy family gathering. Lizzie is the lady on the far right. Her husband Len is resting his hand on her shoulder. I believe she is pregnant in that photo with her son Robert. My grandmother, the lady in white, also looks rather pregnant, which would mean this photo would have been taken in 1932. She is carrying my dad!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3L6UzZotZtj3OlQ-Ribmj_rrqkbvUazORFNEnCaR2BNPcA2T6-LD5woxxiU1z6OiHOvAz3OzOz998wZ-K8ISGeNEM4Ob2HxB-K4ZZCkpOBhGH8rzWhHO5XnQ8-8gozLidSoAvXCRL6V_Z/s1600/Tom+Cullip%252C+Dora%252C+Esther+May%252C+NJ%252C+Lizzie%252C+Len+Stevens.+Children+James+Cullip%252C+Roy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3L6UzZotZtj3OlQ-Ribmj_rrqkbvUazORFNEnCaR2BNPcA2T6-LD5woxxiU1z6OiHOvAz3OzOz998wZ-K8ISGeNEM4Ob2HxB-K4ZZCkpOBhGH8rzWhHO5XnQ8-8gozLidSoAvXCRL6V_Z/s400/Tom+Cullip%252C+Dora%252C+Esther+May%252C+NJ%252C+Lizzie%252C+Len+Stevens.+Children+James+Cullip%252C+Roy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right, my great uncle Tom Cullip and his wife Dora, my grandmother<br />Esther May, my grandfather Nathaniel Joe, my great aunt Lizzie, her husband Len.<br />The two boys are Tom and Dora's son, James, and my uncle Roy.</td></tr>
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The fourth child to join the family was the second and last son, Thomas. During the First World War Thomas enlisted in the navy where he served on board HMS Juno. Luckily he survived the war unscathed and two years after his demobilisation he married Dorothy Bowen, otherwise known as Dora. They had one son, James. They are pictured in the photo above on the left hand side. He died in 1964.<br />
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And then lots of girls were born! The fifth child was Ethel Alice, born in 1901. She was known as Alice and married quite late in life at the age of 50. Her husband, Cecil Humby, was seven years her senior and a widower. He already had a daughter by his first marriage. They were to be married for 16 years as Cecil passed away in 1967 leaving Alice a widow for the next 18 years, until she too died in 1985. This photo shows Alice and Cecil on their wedding day. He looks very dapper in his suit with beautifully pressed trousers!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYWujaGv0Il5HiPYco3czz-rKE7gLFro86oxVBbY3CPP-H_nsF-gUTxLOI23SGWYbrxFvz_2liNuOzvJEtBv4AKQoPYKjznW6zlks5PJrVkOPE5drNXJKrEQ2UnuAA7xpxlmdilWAQA7-/s1600/Cecil+Humby+and+Ethel+Alice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYWujaGv0Il5HiPYco3czz-rKE7gLFro86oxVBbY3CPP-H_nsF-gUTxLOI23SGWYbrxFvz_2liNuOzvJEtBv4AKQoPYKjznW6zlks5PJrVkOPE5drNXJKrEQ2UnuAA7xpxlmdilWAQA7-/s320/Cecil+Humby+and+Ethel+Alice.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alice Cullip and Cecil Humby's wedding day</td></tr>
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Child number six was my Great Auntie Dot, who was baptised as Dorothy Mary. She married Ernest Bishop at the age of 24, had two children and lived to the ripe old age of 94. As I said earlier, she's the only aunt I have any semblance of a memory of. My childhood recollections are of a very warm and gentle woman. And of teas in front of her gas fire...<br />
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The next child to join the clan was born in 1906, Florence Winifred, known as Win. Win married Arthur Miller and had two children. She died in 1991 aged 85.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxIKLiObIr30v1qF6S6uOyKQadkyNIQHOqLPNq4zo9I8VrlJpKvLORmw0xKG1D3f0S-i9_oWEs7Ehm1SFIxMLZF3BVk6tbAl12-zBhVzz4wDVAqGpk7rU-jqcP_l2UCdprWQkxgqCEFJy/s1600/Winifred+%2528in+white+dress%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHxIKLiObIr30v1qF6S6uOyKQadkyNIQHOqLPNq4zo9I8VrlJpKvLORmw0xKG1D3f0S-i9_oWEs7Ehm1SFIxMLZF3BVk6tbAl12-zBhVzz4wDVAqGpk7rU-jqcP_l2UCdprWQkxgqCEFJy/s320/Winifred+%2528in+white+dress%2529.jpg" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Win, wearing white</td></tr>
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The penultimate child was Elsie Irene. She married Reginald Terry in 1934 but I've been unable to find any children for them. I have a wonderful photo, definitely one of my favourites, which shows Elsie with a 'trying not to laugh at the camera' expression on her face. She's failing dismally. She's seated on the ground, with her sister Win, in front of four elderly ladies, one of whom has the most fantastic outfit on. The ladies dressed in black look fairly stern, whereas Elsie can't seem to stop laughing. I would love to have known what the occasion was. I think I would have liked Elsie if I had got to know her. She died in 1999, aged 90.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoq_NUrKq9E7nR98JcMlhg9KdWPW_aTV0WAXhfPOm_vdFAt7r5dB9gt0yRQiivMlMGfIPvItONuDn2uBSV6GBNDnLNmep3L6lhz-vlbrok0E0scgzUqc2ZbYJGilKf4E2jJ_pFBCKcyrBq/s1600/Win+%2526+Elsie+in+front+row.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoq_NUrKq9E7nR98JcMlhg9KdWPW_aTV0WAXhfPOm_vdFAt7r5dB9gt0yRQiivMlMGfIPvItONuDn2uBSV6GBNDnLNmep3L6lhz-vlbrok0E0scgzUqc2ZbYJGilKf4E2jJ_pFBCKcyrBq/s400/Win+%2526+Elsie+in+front+row.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Four stern old ladies, with sisters Win (left) and Elsie (right).</td></tr>
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The last child and the baby of the pack, born in 1912, was Edith, known as Edie. She married William Boulton when she was 22 and had three children. She was a fairly well built and bespectacled young lady but in every photo that I have of her she wears a wide beaming smile. As befits the youngest of the family she was the last surviving sibling and the only one to see in the new millennium. She died in 2004.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2QC82khE9vXuBaPPHOGn5ugL8SxFeoOfp29YxdXf8vbEaTq5Gz73jmahNPJoUIzEYbaoSbDeudDrJjX-S1Cggxn76bqLwxsWZPex1oke51YJqGmJOFmhbYnE2dOuJtECrR6c7IZjizYlk/s1600/Edith+%2528Edie%2529+holding+Dad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2QC82khE9vXuBaPPHOGn5ugL8SxFeoOfp29YxdXf8vbEaTq5Gz73jmahNPJoUIzEYbaoSbDeudDrJjX-S1Cggxn76bqLwxsWZPex1oke51YJqGmJOFmhbYnE2dOuJtECrR6c7IZjizYlk/s320/Edith+%2528Edie%2529+holding+Dad.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Edie holding a handsome young chap, my dad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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So I only really have the bare bones of facts for most of my great aunts and uncles. But I have a lot of photos and I feel that these images really reveal the inner souls and personalities of the people portrayed. They show siblings who got on well and clearly have a great affection for each other. There appear to have been numerous occasions when the family got together to celebrate births and marriages, or for day trips to the seaside, or just to gather for the sake of it.<br />
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Which brings me on to the last photo. This wonderful image is the only one I own which shows all the surviving siblings in one picture. I would guess that it was taken in the first years of the 1960s. My grandmother, who died in 1969, looks fairly elderly and frail and as her brother Tom, who is standing next to her, died in 1964, I feel this photo was probably taken around 1962. But that's just a guess. I love this photo for the fact that the ladies all look so smart with their pale coloured hats, white gloves and handbags. As most of them are wearing pigeon holes, they must have been attending a family wedding, but whose I don't know. It was probably one of the last photos taken of all the siblings together. It's a shame that both Lizzie and James were not alive to feature in it, but seven out of nine isn't bad!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOTowzolxkTdBch5nAH118UaMpgW4kmEHHl1tFWHmgjL7kW_Dl9sUfAYUjcE3hmm6Jh21taXpak-1UU2LREhws6GaZcLLu-aEMxTsEG7p-gETBZIDgYNMFNUGxKSH6kNXjAh35gnQ2nsb/s1600/Edie,+Elsie,+Win,+Dot,+Alice,+Tom,+Esther+May.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOTowzolxkTdBch5nAH118UaMpgW4kmEHHl1tFWHmgjL7kW_Dl9sUfAYUjcE3hmm6Jh21taXpak-1UU2LREhws6GaZcLLu-aEMxTsEG7p-gETBZIDgYNMFNUGxKSH6kNXjAh35gnQ2nsb/s400/Edie,+Elsie,+Win,+Dot,+Alice,+Tom,+Esther+May.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right, Edie, Elsie, Win, Dot, Alice, Tom, May.</td></tr>
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Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-68525617049081224672012-08-12T09:48:00.001+01:002016-04-06T16:20:27.630+01:00The Aunt I Never KnewThis is a blog post about asking the right questions. As a child I always knew my dad had a sister who had died long before I was born, but for years I knew almost nothing about her, she was just a name. It wasn't that Gladys was a black sheep in the family which meant she shouldn't be mentioned, it was more the case that my dad never spoke about any of his family. Or rather he never volunteered the information though he would happily talk about them if you asked. When I was young, and not interested in my ancestry, I didn't have the right questions in mind so never expanded my knowledge of what Gladys was like. It's only since I began investigating my family tree, using a combination of the available records, and pinning my father down to ask those all important questions, that I've managed to piece together Gladys' short life and put some flesh on the bones.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNsfbzpo9pJPorGHbuqrfhu31sGzOsm-GuRxxFWNPVVYfSYfLaIXETBnFFhKyAkbtuaaFypxWYZVxg0JjQ1E8uneX-_0mHgwjq8qhTjg_emhrV9HxXFTPBs7VX5zG97tKg4riLcgzECCs/s1600/Gladys+Stracey+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNsfbzpo9pJPorGHbuqrfhu31sGzOsm-GuRxxFWNPVVYfSYfLaIXETBnFFhKyAkbtuaaFypxWYZVxg0JjQ1E8uneX-_0mHgwjq8qhTjg_emhrV9HxXFTPBs7VX5zG97tKg4riLcgzECCs/s400/Gladys+Stracey+2.jpg" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladys c.1920</td></tr>
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Gladys was born on 14th July 1916 in East Finchley in North London, the first child of <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/nathaniel-joe-stracey-1891-1961-life-in.html" target="_blank">Joe</a> and May Stracey. The world was embroiled in the Great War and so for the first few years of her life she would see little of her father who was away serving his country in Mesopotamia and India. For the duration of the war, Joe would carry a small photo of Gladys and her mother in his wallet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladys and her mother - the photo<br />
that Joe carried in his wallet</td></tr>
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When she was six, Gladys was joined by a younger brother, <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/joseph-roy-stracey-1922-1942-and-hms.html" target="_blank">Roy</a>, and then ten years later my father completed the family. I know very little about her early years, however judging from the wonderful family photo albums that I have, it was a happy time, full of games, family occasions and childhood scraps.<br />
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From this point onward until her death, her life was a blank. I knew she had died at a fairly young age but my dad was not forthcoming with the cause. It was time to delve deeper and start asking questions.<br />
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So on a visit to my dad a couple of years ago, we were talking about family history and I casually asked him whether she had ever been married, expecting the answer to be in the negative as there had never been any mention of a husband or children. "Oh yes", replied my dad, "she married a POW". I was quite dumbfounded. After several years of researching my family tree and interrogating my father about his family and Gladys, he had never mentioned that his sister had been married. I don't blame him however, after all, I hadn't asked the pertinent question!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samuel and Gladys McNairney</td></tr>
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It turns out that Gladys had married a gentleman by the name of Samuel James Woods McNairney, in London, in 1951. He was, indeed, an ex-prisoner of war. Ancestry's <a href="http://search.ancestry.co.uk/search/db.aspx?dbid=1601&enc=1" target="_blank">British Army Prisoners of War dataset</a> revealed that he had spent most of the war in a POW camp in Poland called Stalag XX-B. Further <a href="http://rhf.org.uk/other/RSF/website%20page/2RSF%20last%20stand.html" target="_blank">research</a> on the internet explained how his battalion in the Royal Scots Fusiliers had been fighting a rearguard action during May 1940 to ensure the safe evacuation of troops at Dunkirk and that subsequently he had been captured. Gladys met him after the war when she was working as a cashier in a butcher's shop in Golders Green. My dad didn't particularly like him very much, describing him as "not a very nice man". That makes me feel quite sad as it has somewhat tainted my view of Samuel. I asked my father whether they had had children. I think I already knew the answer to that one, but it couldn't hurt to ask. "Oh no" replied my dad "she was much too old". She was 35 on her wedding day!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladys</td></tr>
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Samuel wasn't Gladys' first love however. At some stage, most likely in the late 1930s, she met a young man called Donald Gabriel. He was a constable and they met one day on the East End Road in East Finchley. By all accounts he was her first serious relationship as they were engaged for a time. However, for reasons unknown, she broke off their engagement. Donald was a former pupil of the renowned Haberdasher Aske's Boys School in Hertfordshire and went on to join the army at the outbreak of the Second World War. Sadly he was not to survive. Dad thought he was in the Grenadier Guards and that he'd died in Burma but the only Donald Gabriel that I have found, via the <a href="http://www.cwgc.org/" target="_blank">Commonwealth War Graves Commission</a>, is a Lieutenant in the Royal Indian Army Service Corp who died in 1943 and is buried in Baghdad. Donald and Gladys' relationship is the sort of information that would be almost impossible to find anywhere except through the recollections of a family member. Their romance would have been lost forever if my father had not recounted it to me.<br />
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But back to her marriage. Gladys and Samuel set up home in East Finchley just around the corner from the house in which she grew up. Sadly, however, they were only to be married for about eight years as in February 1959 Samuel died. Gladys moved back to live with her parents and brother although widowhood was to last just a few months. Later that same year, in early November, just months after the death of her husband, tragedy struck. Gladys had walked a fair distance from the local tube to her home and apparently walked into the house, sat at the kitchen table and had a massive heart attack. Her death certificate shows she had congestive heart disease and hypertension. But I was shocked when I noticed the date of her death. She had died on the 5th November on my father's 27th birthday.<br />
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Learning about Gladys has made me realise that it's the little details which can really make a person's history come to life. And these details so often come from a relative rather than an official document. They can also be found in newspapers, especially the splendidly written articles from the 19th century which never shied away from telling it how it was, full of juicy detail and commentary. But nothing beats the titbits you get from a relative as you then find out what they thought of the situation, or the person. That can only add flavour to an account of someone's life. So don't hesitate, quiz those relatives now, don't leave it until it's too late.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladys Stracey 1916-1959</td></tr>
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<br />Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-91160947295394194032012-08-02T13:16:00.001+01:002012-08-02T13:16:26.346+01:00Mary Ann Matilda Ball 1848-1931This is an account of another ordinary life, albeit one full of births, deaths and marriages. Mary Ann Matilda Ball is my paternal Great Great Grandmother. She lived to a good age, and although she seemed to have suffered more than her fair share of personal tragedy, I get an impression of a strong, persevering woman who, when necessary, stepped up to the plate and took on the responsibilities necessary to survive.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtq0EnbZjk-H6kzwiz4BB_DdB-md0MGZjno98xLIRBK_kmT-gCspvHVvwEJm-mhgkpm1T5QqbBbOjr4qU0mebjTvJOWGh69Sisym47iPzHvJBF3WxYOadw-XDFGgcY08WdDHt8gTvruut/s1600/Bastien-Lepage_The-Ripened-Wheat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtq0EnbZjk-H6kzwiz4BB_DdB-md0MGZjno98xLIRBK_kmT-gCspvHVvwEJm-mhgkpm1T5QqbBbOjr4qU0mebjTvJOWGh69Sisym47iPzHvJBF3WxYOadw-XDFGgcY08WdDHt8gTvruut/s320/Bastien-Lepage_The-Ripened-Wheat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Ripened Wheat by Jules Bastien-Lepage,<br />
courtesy Wikigallery.org</td></tr>
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Mary Ann was born in 1848, the year that revolution swept across Europe. However, the uprisings and social upheaval were a world away from Girtford, the small agricultural hamlet in Bedfordshire where Mary Ann was born. The hamlet lay on the Great North Road about two miles south of Tempsford where she was to spend all of her adult life. Her father, Edward, was an agricultural labourer. Her mother, Matilda, was to provide Mary Ann with her middle name.<br />
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By the time Mary Ann was recorded on her first census in 1851, the Ball family was complete. Mary Ann was the youngest child and, together with her two elder sisters, Fanny and Ellen, the family lived together in Girtford village. Their peaceful existence was not to last however as, in 1853, when Mary Ann was just two, Edward died at the young age of 28. His widow, Matilda, made a living from lace-making, a traditional livelihood in Bedfordshire, and supported her three young daughters single handed for the next ten years until she married for a second time in 1863. I believe that Mary Ann learned a lot from her mother about how to cope in times of adversity. She would have witnessed her mother's strength and I suspect this had a profound effect on Mary Ann's character and her own ability to strive through traumatic events.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOMjByKPY-qep_pSa4qRnoF2XVrNMHHDHI-EbLVwzDjCPPAx85DjytoK7STOSLlJjP5sX5W8VZ2XP6RVNLU5-4sUpikxpxLt2mE-lXVll2DTH9oCEeJ0zfiGoqUKyWTfc47XSTZeZ3Jbj/s1600/Cederstrom_Inside-a-bakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlOMjByKPY-qep_pSa4qRnoF2XVrNMHHDHI-EbLVwzDjCPPAx85DjytoK7STOSLlJjP5sX5W8VZ2XP6RVNLU5-4sUpikxpxLt2mE-lXVll2DTH9oCEeJ0zfiGoqUKyWTfc47XSTZeZ3Jbj/s400/Cederstrom_Inside-a-bakery.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside a Bakery by Gustaf Olaf Cederstrom, courtesy Wikigallery.org</td></tr>
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At the age of 19 Mary Ann married a young baker from Tempsford, Samuel Hardwick. Together they lived in Langford End in Tempsford and raised four children, my great grandmother Ann, Fanny, Ellen and finally young Sam. Tragedy struck again however. When Sam was just a few months old, in June 1880, Samuel died of an epileptic fit. He was 33 years old. And this is when Mary Ann must have looked back and remembered her mother's resilience and incredible spirit, for she took over the family business and ran the bakery in the village. She was assisted by a journeyman baker, Henry Thompson, and her eldest daughter, my great-grandmother, Ann, who was only a child at the time. It was discovering that Mary Ann took on the bakery that made me develop a great admiration for her. She had a young family, including a tiny baby, and even though she probably had little choice but to take on the business, I still applaud her 'keep calm and carry on' attitude.<br />
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In 1885, Mary Ann married again. John Randall was a local man who worked as a general labourer. He had been born and bred in Tempsford, and the couple settled down to married life in the village that had been her home for the last 18 years. Mary Ann's propensity to give birth to girls continued with the birth of Alice, Florence and Winifred Mary.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samuel Hardwick, died 1917</td></tr>
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However, life was to deliver some harsh blows to Mary Ann, particularly in relation to her children. In 1882, two years after the death of her first husband and whilst still a young widow, her second born child Fanny died at the age of eleven. If that wasn't bad enough, eight years later, Mary Ann and John Randall's eldest, Alice, died of tubercular meningitis. She was 13 years old. And then came the war. Mary Ann's only son, Sam, was serving with the Royal West Surrey Regiment in France in 1917 when he was mortally wounded and later died of his wounds. Mary Ann outlived three of her children, a not un-common feature of life in the 19th and early 20th centuries. But it must have been devastating to lose two daughters to illness and then her only son in such a violent manner.<br />
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Mary Ann and John lived together in Tempsford until his death in 1928. She outlived him by three years and died at the ripe old age of 82.<br />
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Mary Ann, for me, is one of those ancestors that I just took to straight away. I admire how she stepped into her husband's flour-covered apron and made a living for herself and her family. Her's wasn't an easy life, it was marred by too much tragedy, but she survived, picked up the pieces and carried on. And because of that, she'll always be one of my heroes.<br />
<br />Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-8658842157062956502012-07-08T12:24:00.000+01:002012-08-05T11:37:24.767+01:00Fanny Hardwick 1834-1898: An Ordinary LifeThis is the story of one of my ancestors, Fanny Hardwick. I chose to write about her by using the scientifically proven method of closing my eyes and sticking a pin in a list of my forebears! Over the last few weeks I had been struggling to find an interesting subject to blog about. I had been concentrating on all the 'compelling' folk, the people who I knew lots of things about. But then it dawned on me that ignoring those people with, dare I say it, 'humdrum' lives, meant that their stories <span style="background-color: white;">were at risk of being lost, of never being written about because they appeared to be run-of-the-mill, unexceptional, average. But who am I to say that they led pedestrian lives just because they weren't documented except in a census or church record? Just because they didn't fight in a war, or invent something, or die horribly, or end up in a newspaper article doesn't mean they shouldn't be remembered and recorded for posterity. So here is my first randomly selected ancestor, my Great Great Grand Aunt, Fanny Hardwick.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATJ9AnhsTULTfieDllvva-dRwPjLfKsj0q8ED1Jd5xBFOwzuuEub5fN2uxpqr4jw-V4xhc_4X_EW7bo6NjcKQx06S5Gmep4lS0Ndg6YcwNz1Du072LIDj16n6HX3tr3d2y19GRqYH2m1k/s1600/Tempsford+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgATJ9AnhsTULTfieDllvva-dRwPjLfKsj0q8ED1Jd5xBFOwzuuEub5fN2uxpqr4jw-V4xhc_4X_EW7bo6NjcKQx06S5Gmep4lS0Ndg6YcwNz1Du072LIDj16n6HX3tr3d2y19GRqYH2m1k/s400/Tempsford+map.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tempsford in the early 1830s</td></tr>
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Fanny was born in 1834 in the small village of Tempsford in Bedfordshire. She was born midway through the reign of William IV, and just three years before William's niece Victoria ascended the throne. Tempsford was a small agricultural village nestled on flat, open land with the River Ouse forming a natural boundary to the west. The village was cut in two by the Great North Road, the main coaching route from London to York since Roman times. As a very small child, Fanny would have seen the stage coaches passing through the village carrying passengers and mail to far off cities and towns. This was before the coming of the railway put an end to the centuries-old coaching tradition.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Widower by Jacques Joseph Tissot</td></tr>
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Fanny lived with her parents, Ezekiel and Sarah, in Langford End which formed one half of the village. <span style="background-color: white;">At the time of Fanny's birth there were roughly 570 residents in the village, and the majority of these would have worked on the land. Fanny's father was no different. For most of his life he was an 'ag lab' or 'grazier', though, for a time, he was also a road labourer. By the time of the 1841 census Fanny had been joined by a younger sister, Mary. A year later, in 1842, the girls' mother, Sarah, died at the young age of 31. Fanny was eight, and her little sister was just four. Ezekiel suddenly had two small daughters to care for as well as a living to make. It must have been a difficult and upsetting time for this young family.<br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">Ten years later however, circumstances had changed and life was very different. In 1851, Fanny was 17, and she was still living in Langford End with her father. But by this time there were two new additions to the family. Within three years of his first wife's death Ezekiel had married again, to Ann Esther Ibbot Miles, a lady with a very long name! Together they had Samuel, my 2 x Great Grandfather. Fanny was working as a <a href="http://www.make-lace-with-us.com/bedfordshire-lace.html" target="_blank">lace maker</a>, in keeping with many women in the area who were able to work from home supplementing the family's income.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyfoXjOLmaPvDPhJWHEmkjfuhDDbd6BHISikzDTMohCIZ5hu1CI8dBQgAbpkbZiZQUF7lPtseBu5cjaqfc715dibQitdDefq39T39XVowxU1mIRUxpQBmRpUO_sNMWmcJXVct2hcMR6TM/s1600/lacemaker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtyfoXjOLmaPvDPhJWHEmkjfuhDDbd6BHISikzDTMohCIZ5hu1CI8dBQgAbpkbZiZQUF7lPtseBu5cjaqfc715dibQitdDefq39T39XVowxU1mIRUxpQBmRpUO_sNMWmcJXVct2hcMR6TM/s400/lacemaker.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lacemaker by William Weatherhead</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;">How long Fanny was a lace maker I don't know, but at some point after 1851 she found work as a live-in servant in the home of one Joseph Addington who also resided in Langford End. She was to live there until his death twenty years later. On the 1861 census she is listed as 'servant', but by 1871 her occupation had been inflated to 'housekeeper'. Fanny was the only servant who lived-in; Joseph may have had other day servants, but Fanny was the only one who lived there all year round. Joseph, who described himself as a 'gentleman' was much older than Fanny, and one of the village's 'gentry'. He was obviously considered to be one of the more well-born inhabitants of the village.</span><br />
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By the time of the 1871 census, Fanny was 37 years old and still unmarried, a fairly rare state of affairs for the times. So I was pleased to discover that on Christmas Day 1874 she wed a local market gardener, George Cope, and settled down to married life with him. She was 40 when her wedding took place, and it's possible that they tried for children but were unsuccessful. I'm intrigued as to why she waited so long to marry when the majority of her peers would have been marrying and having children when they were barely out of their teens. <span style="background-color: white;">Fanny had lived with </span><span style="background-color: white;">her gentleman employer as his 'housekeeper' since her early twenties. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Had they enjoyed more than a master-servant relationship which society would stop them from making official? </span><span style="background-color: white;">Or maybe she was too busy to marry; running Joseph's home may have taken all her energy leaving her with no time to even meet possible suitors. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Joseph d</span><span style="background-color: white;">ied not long after the census in 1871. </span><span style="background-color: white;">His death clearly left her </span><span style="background-color: white;">free to find a partner to share her life with. Enter George.</span><br />
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Fanny lived out the rest of her life in Tempsford with her husband. They lived alone in their cottage in Nags Head Lane, next door to the local inn.<br />
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In 1898, aged just 64, Fanny died. I was amazed to discover that she had made a will and left behind effects worth £364, 17s, 8d which according to the <a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/currency/" target="_blank">National Archives currency converter</a> is around £20,000 in today's money: a small fortune! How did she amass such a large amount of money? Perhaps her old employer, Joseph Addington, had left her some money in his will (I'll have to investigate) or maybe Fanny and George were just careful with their money. I'll probably never know. George outlived her by four years; he died in 1902.<br />
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So that was Fanny's life. It's very ordinary and not at all unusual, but I'm so pleased that I've documented it. I've really enjoyed writing this blog post, as, even though all the evidence for her life comes care of census records and BMD records, it still reveals so much of the person and the times they lived in.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-51018728062893154182012-06-30T13:52:00.002+01:002012-06-30T14:11:03.829+01:00Sainte-Marie among the HuronsIt's been a month since I've had a chance to write a new blog post - a fact I'm not too proud of! But I'm now back from a two week holiday in America and Canada and determined to get back into the swing of things.<br />
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In fact, I'm actually hand writing this post a few days before it'll get typed up and posted whilst events are fresh in my mind, for today I visited a truly superb historic site in Midland, Ontario called <a href="http://www.saintemarieamongthehurons.on.ca/sm/en/Home/index.htm" target="_blank">Sainte-Marie among the Hurons</a>. The site is a reconstruction of a French Jesuit mission called Sainte-Marie, which, for ten years from 1639, stood on the very spot where the re-created buildings now stand. The Jesuits had travelled far from their homeland in o<span style="background-color: white;">rder to convert the native people, the Wendat (or 'Huron' in the French language), to Christianity. In order to do this the Jesuits lived alongside the Wendat, learning their language and customs, all the while preaching to them and educating them in the ways of Christianity. Many Wendat did actually convert. The community was successful for ten years but due to increasing attacks by the Iroquois, the traditional rivals of the Wendat, it was abandoned and destroyed in 1649. The buildings of the mission have been faithfully reconstructed using the remaining archaeological evidence and contemporary Jesuit writings, but you'll also discover the traditional </span><span style="background-color: white;">homes of the Wendat: the wigwams and communal longhouses.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The buildings of the Jesuit Mission</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside the Jesuit living quarters</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Refectory</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br />It's a wonderful place to visit. Within most of the buildings, such as the soldier's barracks, </span><span style="background-color: white;">the chapel and the Wendat's longhouses, you'll find incredibly knowledgeable guides dressed in period costume. On the blazing hot day that I visited, some of the guides must have roasted as they walked around in the long black woollen robes of a Jesuit priest, several layers of thick material and woolly hats! These guides could answer any question thrown at them, and believe me, we threw them some humdingers. Be it about what the Jesuits ate, how the Wendat and French viewed privacy in different ways, what the buildings were made of (the weather proofing filler in the walls was made of a combination of bear fat, ash and clay, in case you were wondering...), where the Wendat's descendants live today, what their clothes were made of, etc, we asked, the guides knew. They were fantastic. And this is what makes Sainte-Marie such a splendid place to visit. At one stage my travelling companions and I found ourselves sitting in a dark, smoky Wendat longhouse, </span><span style="background-color: white;">next to a burning fire,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">chewing the fat with one of the guides, whilst the sun streamed in through the smoke holes in the roof. The temperature may have been in the late 20s outside, but it was </span><span style="background-color: white;">surprisingly</span><span style="background-color: white;"> refreshing next to the fire! Knowledge was shared in a way that kept both us, the visitors, and themselves interested.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Chewing the fat' in a Wendat longhouse</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br />One could wander freely among the buildings touching the bark on the wigwams, having a go with replicas of seventeenth century carpentry tools and talking to the cows and chickens in their pens who sensibly stayed in the shade out of the heat. For a brief time, twenty-first century life seemed an awfully long way away.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Wendat area with longhouse and wigwam</td></tr>
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<br />From a genealogical, and historical, point of view, it's a great place to get an idea of what life was like for those brave people who travelled half way around the world <span style="background-color: white;">(for whatever reason, whether to preach, s</span><span style="background-color: white;">tart a new life, or escape persecution)</span><span style="background-color: white;"> to settle in a new and unknown country </span><span style="background-color: white;">in the seventeenth century. Life was tough, and the story of Sainte-Marie is an example of how early settlers brought their own established ways of living with them, as well as adopting new lifestyles in keeping with the environment around them. </span><span style="background-color: white;">For a whole day I was transported back to the pioneer life of a Canada of four centuries ago, and I loved every minute. Visit if you can.<br /></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sainte-Marie from the air</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-28185556409094856892012-05-26T12:43:00.000+01:002012-05-26T12:43:23.109+01:00A visit to the Coal Mines Historic Site in TasmaniaLast year, whilst on an unforgettable trip to Australia, I visited a remarkable place on the beautiful island of Tasmania: the Coal Mines Historic Site. I wasn't there for long as my family and I arrived late in the afternoon as the sun was starting to lower in the sky and the shadows grow long in front of us. We spent an hour or so wandering around the site without seeing another soul. The place had an indelible atmosphere of silence and isolation, yet also peace which is at complete odds to it's former role as an outpost of the Port Arthur Penal Station. The Coal Mines became a place where persistent offenders and those men who'd committed the direst crimes would be sent for punishment.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coal Mines Historic Site</td></tr>
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The Mines are in a lovely part of the Tasman Peninsula, overlooking Norfolk Bay. Sited about 30kms north of Port Arthur, it's hard to believe now that this beautiful spot once roused such trepidation in the unfortunates who were sent to work there. Today the modern visitor sees ruins of cell blocks, punishment cells, soldier's barracks and hospitals. One can't help but stop and marvel at the splendour of the azure waters and distant coastline whilst trying to frame artful photos through the bare windows of the broken down walls. Its unlikely that the scenery would have been at the forefront of the minds of the men who were sent to work there in the 1830s, when the mines were first opened.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quote by Thomas Lempriere, Deputy Commissary-General<br />
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At one time there were up to 600 prisoners plus soldiers, supervisors and their families living on this site. The men slept in dormitories but there were also 108 separate cells to keep the men isolated at night. Below these cells, built in the damp earth underground, one can investigate the solitary punishment cells where offenders could be kept for up to 30 days. These cells are pitch black, cold and forbidding. I couldn't stay long within the confinements of those chilly dark walls before being overtaken by the need to make my way back to daylight and the warmth of the sun.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The underground solitary punishment cells. And my brother!</td></tr>
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I think it is unlikely that my convict ancestor, Joseph Cullip, would have spent any time at the Coal Mines. The archives at Port Arthur show that he was never kept at Port Arthur itself; he wasn't a hardened criminal and the good conduct record he held whilst in Tasmania corroborates my view that he never suffered the hard life meted out to those who were sent to the mines. Walking around the site I felt relief that, to my mind, Joseph hadn't walked the same paths that I was. Even though the area would once have been teeming with activity, it is quiet now, and eerie. The skeletons of the buildings are a grim reminder of a brutal past, and the atmosphere that pervades the ruins easily feeds over-active imaginations such as mine. I was glad I visited, but I was equally glad to return to the cosiness of our holiday rental and the comforts of modern day life.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIWfqWguPuBwKyAR6nimD49Z2u44FJobOkanr7DNd8cx8vDLcgnWT5QNVE67xYZYv7wkdiBZpbBvsu6gnTuchG2S4wSIsY7vYPsUDsW_rZIlokg5ptfjBVMZXQzpkHav5ZgpO49OIp79D/s1600/759.+Coal+Mines+Historic+Site.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEIWfqWguPuBwKyAR6nimD49Z2u44FJobOkanr7DNd8cx8vDLcgnWT5QNVE67xYZYv7wkdiBZpbBvsu6gnTuchG2S4wSIsY7vYPsUDsW_rZIlokg5ptfjBVMZXQzpkHav5ZgpO49OIp79D/s400/759.+Coal+Mines+Historic+Site.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coal Mines Historic Site</td></tr>
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To learn more of the history of this evocative place, check out the Port Arthur <a href="http://www.portarthur.org.au/index.aspx?base=1489" target="_blank">website</a>. Whilst there, you can also read the stories of just some of the convicts who did their time at Port Arthur, including <a href="http://www.portarthur.org.au/index.aspx?id=12678" target="_blank">William Thompson</a> who spent 12 months at the mines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmglGVV9hqpXxqMTfoBm4nRw3ATjvISZK7fEvsPUO_oue35H9llobHPksJ5zNgL5f0zTe5K9yJa9v2Bnofp-ekCSCfE5u67w1_2pewi2RLdTriTGn1K_1NykO3OcWcXUYOLXYuHZVXQ4e/s1600/Artful+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmglGVV9hqpXxqMTfoBm4nRw3ATjvISZK7fEvsPUO_oue35H9llobHPksJ5zNgL5f0zTe5K9yJa9v2Bnofp-ekCSCfE5u67w1_2pewi2RLdTriTGn1K_1NykO3OcWcXUYOLXYuHZVXQ4e/s400/Artful+shot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Artful shot'</td></tr>
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<br />Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-51705929461431190432012-05-13T11:07:00.001+01:002012-08-05T11:38:50.615+01:00Meet the Neighbours<div style="text-align: left;">
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Both sides of my family hail from very lowly stock. Going back through the generations you'll find farm workers, soldiers, miners, lace makers... and the odd criminal! My ancestors lived off the land or worked in factories and mines; they got by with what they had, and occasionally turned to poaching for extra food, or perhaps to sell on for a small profit. My wartime hero ancestors were privates, gunners or able seamen; there are no lieutenants, captains or majors in my tree. Because of this humble background, I was always very intrigued by the fact that my mother and her family grew up in a very exclusive and expensive part of central London, in a Regency house in Chelsea.</div>
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My mother was born in Ireland and spent her early childhood years there. In the late 1930s the family relocated from Ireland to London and found themselves in the heart of the great metropolis. My grandfather worked for the Guinness Brewery and on arrival in London the family were housed in several properties owned by the <a href="http://www.guinnesspartnership.com/about-us/about-the-partnership/our-history.aspx" target="_blank">Guinness Trust</a>. The Trust had been founded by the philanthropist Sir Edward Guinness in 1890 "to help improve the lives of ordinary people, many of whom couldn't afford homes". The family were bombed out of one of these properties during the Second World War and for a time lived in the Guinness Buildings on Draycott Avenue in Chelsea. They were now living a mere stone's throw from Harrods and the famous Royal Hospital, home of the Chelsea Pensioners.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMF9Yc0W0HJ30hggsP8Tz3AL5uFleJz41bx6A7rRdAPMJA5069RBFMNaiSlsFRjYeyUtjS8wG5X6e7Q8KCVzFOYDYrMz54Lk-RJOTphxUwbUaBWaZpAhzDyYmzF5l1s62v8avB1M53IWG9/s1600/Wellington+Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMF9Yc0W0HJ30hggsP8Tz3AL5uFleJz41bx6A7rRdAPMJA5069RBFMNaiSlsFRjYeyUtjS8wG5X6e7Q8KCVzFOYDYrMz54Lk-RJOTphxUwbUaBWaZpAhzDyYmzF5l1s62v8avB1M53IWG9/s400/Wellington+Square.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wellington Square, Chelsea, taken c.1950</td></tr>
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By 1950 the family had moved from Draycott Avenue to nearby Wellington Square off the Kings Road. This lovely three sided square is home to a beautiful collection of five floored Regency houses surrounding an idyllic garden square in the centre. The house my family moved into had been divided up into separate flats and was home to four other households. There were at least 14 people living in this residence at any one time. The property had been requisitioned by the council after the war to house some of the many people who had been left homeless after the Blitz. It's a shame we didn't own it for, if we had, we would probably be a very wealthy family today!<br />
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With the release of Ancestry's collection of <a href="http://search.ancestry.co.uk/search/db.aspx?dbid=1795&enc=1" target="_blank">London Electoral Registers from 1847-1965</a>, I was amazed to see that my mother was raised with some rather distinguished neighbours.<br />
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Two doors down from the family home resided <a href="http://thepeerage.com/p14229.htm#i142282" target="_blank">Lord John and Lady Agnes Clydesmuir</a>. Lord John was the 1st Baron Clydesmuir who became an MP in 1929. He
held many prominent posts within government and was Secretary of State for <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on">Scotland</st1:country>
between 1938 and 1940. In 1943 he became the Governor of Burma. He was even a
governor of the BBC. Distinguished neighbours indeed!<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZY0jKDnIjWBv2sboiEFRE0Ht2NhT0oBa4W3A_d2Jvig2Ieg3TD2uKOpTcgTcJR1sxlenCN1mQeyYcLPvZ11Kzy4IqL_J8ulge4ctW4XjCCxcVkKQAVCxl3y18RBNPj-a6pls5OAJocGSG/s1600/Peter+Bull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZY0jKDnIjWBv2sboiEFRE0Ht2NhT0oBa4W3A_d2Jvig2Ieg3TD2uKOpTcgTcJR1sxlenCN1mQeyYcLPvZ11Kzy4IqL_J8ulge4ctW4XjCCxcVkKQAVCxl3y18RBNPj-a6pls5OAJocGSG/s200/Peter+Bull.jpg" width="159" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter Bull</td></tr>
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My aunt can remember an actor lived further down the road, but she couldn't remember his name. Ancestry solved that problem. It was <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0119988/" target="_blank">Peter Bull</a>, a character actor who had acted in over 70 films, including Doctor Doolittle, Dr Strangelove, Tom Jones and The African Queen.<br />
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Living in number 9 Wellington Square were the O'Briens. This was a family I grew up knowing the name of but not knowing anything about. They were often mentioned at family get-togethers and there are photos of the O'Brien children with my cousin who also grew up in Wellington Square. The father, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toby_O%27Brien" target="_blank">Toby O'Brien</a>, was an Anglo-Irish journalist and, to quote Wikipedia, was a "public relations expert who spearheaded Britain's efforts to counter Nazi Germany propaganda during World War II". As press officer for the British Council, it was Toby O'Brien's job to contradict German lies and point out the truth in false German reports about the state of the war. His son Donough O'Brien has claimed that his father wrote the original wording for the World War II ditty '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hitler_Has_Only_Got_One_Ball" target="_blank">Hitler Has Only Got One Ball</a>', which is sung to the tune of the 'Colonel Bogey March'. My Nana was their cleaning lady and cooked for them when they held dinner parties. My cousin remembers Toby as "a lovely man" who used to let her sit next to him in the front seat of his car even though she was too small to see out of the window. She got to know the children of his second marriage and had the run of their house.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXeWEvZ4Yzc_s7a6oNrZVabqweDKziNj5okjP1_BPgvHAH3HWlbd7p1OUTXb1W_9AHZ1GMRd4iiXIZ_QHccWR41WzECHgAp0BuV-CQzEplNQ7NvrdO2-YrBF2oLbnFB9NajiXsIoAxMZE/s1600/SOEbuckmaster.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheXeWEvZ4Yzc_s7a6oNrZVabqweDKziNj5okjP1_BPgvHAH3HWlbd7p1OUTXb1W_9AHZ1GMRd4iiXIZ_QHccWR41WzECHgAp0BuV-CQzEplNQ7NvrdO2-YrBF2oLbnFB9NajiXsIoAxMZE/s1600/SOEbuckmaster.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maurice Buckmaster</td></tr>
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The final distinguished neighbours that my family had were the Buckmasters. <a href="http://www.spartacus.schoolnet.co.uk/SOEbuckmaster.htm" target="_blank">Maurice Buckmaster</a> is, of course, well known as the head of the French Section of the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/worldwars/wwtwo/soe_01.shtml" target="_blank">Special Operations Executive</a> (SOE) during World War II. The SOE's agents worked behind enemy lines, conducting espionage, subversion and sabotage. They blew up bridges and power stations, carried out assassinations (most famously killing Hitler's deputy Reinhard Heydrich) and encouraged and aided local resistance movements. It was dangerous and potentially deadly work as, if captured, an agent could expect torture and execution. My aunt remembers the Buckmasters, in particular having to take her 5-year old daughter around to the house to apologise to Mrs Buckmaster for a childhood misdemeanor which unfortunately my aunt can't recall. I would love to know what upset or annoyed her so much that she needed my 5-year old cousin to apologise.<br />
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My family left Wellington Square when the owners of the house decided they wanted it back. This was many years after the end of the war. Most of my family moved to the north London suburbs. But how wonderful to have lived in the heart of London and to have had these illustrious neighbours who played such key roles in the war, as well as actors and peers of the realm. My family look back with great affection and fondness at their time in Chelsea, and I must admit I feel a touch of envy that I was born so long after they left that I never experienced it for myself. The house may be in the hands of other people now but, to me, it'll always be my family's home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z8vf9kFWsI6STPZeGuadu7YZYuSLfVj2rhp7nEzbhr9E_JPiwHaZf_eu_Cvzh88g2udZvu9cok1Nj8jFXL5360NRVF75uTDSyP8f0o4Ugmmh4OqbfJQ6WidvVm0D39olre_fDrjFJNb2/s1600/Wellington+Sq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_z8vf9kFWsI6STPZeGuadu7YZYuSLfVj2rhp7nEzbhr9E_JPiwHaZf_eu_Cvzh88g2udZvu9cok1Nj8jFXL5360NRVF75uTDSyP8f0o4Ugmmh4OqbfJQ6WidvVm0D39olre_fDrjFJNb2/s400/Wellington+Sq.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wellington Square, Chelsea today.<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white;">© Copyright </span><a href="http://www.geograph.org.uk/profile/124" property="cc:attributionName" rel="cc:attributionURL dct:creator" style="background-color: white;" title="View profile">D Johnston</a><span style="background-color: white;"> and licensed for reuse under this </span><a class="nowrap" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/" rel="license" style="background-color: white; white-space: nowrap;">Creative Commons Licence</a></span><br />
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<br /></div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-13892203109447359752012-04-29T16:42:00.000+01:002012-04-29T16:42:34.037+01:00Dorothy Lucy Bagley 1895-1940 - A Widow's StoryA while ago I related the sad story of my great uncle, <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/james-ivanhoe-cullip-1894-1918.html" target="_blank">James Ivanhoe Cullip</a>, who survived the Great War only to die one week after his wedding in 1918 from the Spanish Flu pandemic. I was intrigued as to what became of his widow, Dorothy.<br />
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One can only imagine the range of emotions that she must have endured at the time. From the elation of her wedding in the local parish church, where they lived in East Finchley, London, through the worry that she would have felt when her new husband fell ill, to the incredible shock when death took him from her, and the subsequent grief of widowhood.</div>
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But evidence shows that she did pull through this dreadful time, as three years later she was to remarry. Her new husband was Alfred Walter Chappell, and I was surprised to see that they were married in Sawbridgeworth in Hertfordshire. The reason for my surprise was that Sawbridgeworth was the village where my grandfather, <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/nathaniel-joe-stracey-1891-1961-life-in.html" target="_blank">Nathaniel Joe Stracey</a>, came from. He had moved to London in the first decade of the twentieth century and in 1916 married my grandmother, Esther May Cullip, the sister of James Ivanhoe. The Cullips originally hailed from Tempsford in Bedfordshire; they had had no connection with Sawbridgeworth except through my grandfather. So to see the widow of my great uncle getting married in Sawbridgeworth immediately sparked my interest and a desire to know more.</div>
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My first port of call was the 1901 census for Sawbridgeworth. On running a search for Alfred Chappell I was amazed to see that he lived next door to my 9-year old grandfather, Nathaniel Joe, in Bell Street. Alfred was 5 years old. Were they childhood friends? My instincts tell me they were.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpesRXmwqKPvC8sLpZ1Jrgq1pwR9gj7bM2UJvEf7I4ypQMwlJbvGXk0ILLmRBE5ijf-mE02qSZ_zTk6Aj5Gz1Y64rx8C-dwk7v3_dX2aJwVHaOBhQoILJ2knDnrZoBkQgqPwiHCptyGiBF/s1600/Census.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpesRXmwqKPvC8sLpZ1Jrgq1pwR9gj7bM2UJvEf7I4ypQMwlJbvGXk0ILLmRBE5ijf-mE02qSZ_zTk6Aj5Gz1Y64rx8C-dwk7v3_dX2aJwVHaOBhQoILJ2knDnrZoBkQgqPwiHCptyGiBF/s400/Census.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 1901 Sawbridgeworth census showing my grandfather,<br />Joe Stracey, living next door to Alfred Chappell.</td></tr>
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I don't know where Dorothy lived following the death of James Ivanhoe. She may have returned to her parent's home, a few streets away from her new relations, or she may have moved in to what should have been the marital home with her father and mother-in-law. In any case, in this close-knit community where everybody knew everyone else, and to some extent, was related to everyone else, there would have been much contact between Dorothy and her new family. I believe that after Nathaniel Joe returned home from the war he probably had a visit from his old friend Alfred Chappell and introductions were made. This was a new beginning for Dorothy as, on Christmas Eve 1921, she married Alfred and they went on to have three children together.</div>
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But this isn't the end of Dorothy's story. Whilst researching Dorothy's death date, I was shocked to discover that her death was registered in 1940, just nine years after the birth of her third child. Why had she died at such a relatively young age? After further investigation, I discovered that Dorothy was one of five people who had been killed on the night of 10th October 1940 as a result of 'enemy action'. It was the height of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Blitz" target="_blank">Blitz</a>, and with Sawbridgeworth being so close to London, it appeared that a German bomber had dropped its load on Sawbridgeworth resulting in the deaths of two women and three young children. Three houses in Cambridge Road, where Dorothy lived, were to take the full force of the blast. Dorothy, who lived at number 108, was killed, along with a 10 year old girl who was staying with her at the time. Two children in the next door house, number 110, were also killed, along with a mother from number 112 who died of wounds the following day. You can read a moving account of the incident <a href="http://www.hertfordshiremercury.co.uk/Hertfordshire/Mum-died-trying-to-protect-us-from-bomb.htm" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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What a sad end for Dorothy. Her first husband had survived the First World War only to fall victim to the raging flu pandemic. Then, having made a new life for herself in rural Hertfordshire, Dorothy was to meet a sudden and devastating death as a direct result of a German bombing raid over England. She was only 44. Seventy years after the Second World War, the happenings of that time can seem very far removed. But as I discover more and more family members whose lives were impacted by the cataclysmic events of the twentieth century I realise just how many ordinary people, and members of my own family, were effected by world events. Dorothy is a case in point, and sadly she was one of the thousands of people for whom the war came to her with such dreadful consequences. She is remembered on the Sawbridgeworth War Memorial, alongside the other innocent victims of that bombing raid.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJliAkBbrnZ6chdZ5YtLTBh9vp_lgoafHtYTwWnKPEfYocrQdI4qiZohdCSGK4zczfmED5z4p0W2jj6gg0eZ0HWZftslkQ_Pze7kXhuskad3xPYplWEXPXVwa-sKzA08jivv9mn-LAyU1/s1600/Sawbridgeworth+war+memorial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJliAkBbrnZ6chdZ5YtLTBh9vp_lgoafHtYTwWnKPEfYocrQdI4qiZohdCSGK4zczfmED5z4p0W2jj6gg0eZ0HWZftslkQ_Pze7kXhuskad3xPYplWEXPXVwa-sKzA08jivv9mn-LAyU1/s400/Sawbridgeworth+war+memorial.jpg" width="291" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sawbridgeworth War Memorial showing the names of<br />the victims of the German bombing raid of 10 October 1940.</td></tr>
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</div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-12249722799521464272012-04-21T16:37:00.000+01:002012-04-22T11:53:19.559+01:00Thomas Cullip 1827-1903: An army service record reveals its secretsMy Great Great Grandfather, Thomas Cullip, was always a bit of an enigma to me. His father, <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/my-convict-ancestor-joseph-cullip-1807.html" target="_blank">Joseph Cullip</a>, was transported to Tasmania in 1844 for stealing a sheep. Within a short time of Joseph's departure, Thomas' mother and his seven siblings found themselves destitute and divided between the Bedford Union and Biggleswade Union Workhouses in Bedfordshire. I could find references to every member of the family on the 1851 census as resident in these workhouses, and in the case of Thomas's sister, Elizabeth, lodging with her illegitimate son in Bedford. But Thomas Cullip was missing. He was still missing on the 1861 census. His whereabouts remained a mystery to me.<br />
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Thomas was born in 1827 and I could trace his life easily up to 1847. It was then that Thomas served a month's hard labour for poaching (a trait which appeared to run in the family!). The evidence for this was found on his <a href="http://apps.bedfordshire.gov.uk/grd/" target="_blank">Bedfordshire Gaol record</a>. But from then on Thomas seemed to disappear off the face of the earth until he reappeared in 1866 at his wedding to my Great Great Grandmother, Susan. I had used every combination of data possible to search for him on the 1851 and 1861 censuses, but to no avail. So where was he between 1847 and 1866? Why was he not recorded on the censuses? Was he in jail? Was he in foreign lands? Or did he just wish to remain hidden on census night, rebelling against the authorities that had sent his father away, possibly forever, resulting in his family falling on perilously hard times and a reliance on the parish for help?<br />
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My research seemed to have come to a dead end and I was stumped as to where to look next. Then came a fateful day at work when, during a lunch break spent doing some family research at my computer, I typed Thomas' name into the Find My Past search engine. Bingo! Up popped his service record in the dataset <a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/search/army-service-records/chelsea-pensioners" target="_blank">Chelsea Pensioners' Service Records 1760-1913</a>. A random search had revealed a service record for Thomas. I nearly jumped for joy! Thomas had enlisted in the 38th Foot in 1854. This explained his absence from the 1861 UK census as he was in India at the time!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibLYejF2f5NRLvz5EV4Ze3edgb5W2DZM0t64f0KSmrmAvQJbgcQE83pCLqipo4Wm-deImJBRkeK_nYxpEEwWRhmpM0E1Y7CbquHyhPXgfG6hu09-lrmdF8YPc7Hg-OQ_oAGwr4YbDsrJT/s1600/Uniform-Crimean-War.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibLYejF2f5NRLvz5EV4Ze3edgb5W2DZM0t64f0KSmrmAvQJbgcQE83pCLqipo4Wm-deImJBRkeK_nYxpEEwWRhmpM0E1Y7CbquHyhPXgfG6hu09-lrmdF8YPc7Hg-OQ_oAGwr4YbDsrJT/s400/Uniform-Crimean-War.jpg" width="342" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A soldier at the Crimea wearing full marching uniform.<br />Taken by Roger Fenton 1819-1869, war photographer.<br />Did Thomas wear a uniform like this?</td></tr>
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Why did he enlist? As a healthy young man he should have been able to find work on the land. Why did he not stay to help his mother and siblings? Or did the break up of his family and the hardship they fell upon induce him to seek a life away from the places associated with his family's plight and the memories they provoked? Whatever his motivations, it was a decision that would take him far from home and into potentially deadly situations.<br />
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His service record has been a mine of information, although it has also thrown up a couple of new questions which I would like to have answered.<br />
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Thomas, a labourer by trade, enlisted in the 38th Regiment of Foot on 30th November 1854 in Berwick-upon-Tweed in Northumberland. That immediately raised the question of what on earth was he doing in Berwick-upon-Tweed? My only clue is that the signed witness to Thomas' enlistment appears to be a representative of the Bedford militia, although Thomas states he had never been in the militia prior to this date. Did he therefore volunteer in Bedfordshire before being taken to Berwick-upon-Tweed for the official enlistment?<br />
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The next issue which soon came apparent was that of Thomas' age. He stated on his attestation papers that he was 22. This was not true. Thomas was in fact at least 27. Had I got the wrong man? I don't think so. All the information on the papers, except his age, match what I know about him, even down to his description (5 ft 4, grey eyes, dark hair, fresh complexion) which is identical to his Bedfordshire Gaol record. Perhaps he felt that his age would be prohibitive if he stated he was 27.<br />
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Other than those particular issues, his service record has provided me with some fabulous details. He enlisted for the term of 10 years, though in actuality he was to serve 10 years and 192 days. And on enlistment he was paid the grand total of six shillings and sixpence. His <span style="font-size: 12pt;">character and conduct were described as: "</span><i>very good. He is in possession of two good conduct badges... His name does not appear in the Defaulters Book. Has never been tried</i>". Also his "<i>Habits were regular, Conduct good</i>" and he was "<i>Temperate</i>". Other intriguing facts revealed that he was vaccinated as an infant, took 18 breaths a minute and had a pulse of 72 beats per minute. His attestation papers show that when he signed on in 1854 he was only able to make his mark, but by the time he was discharged in 1864 he could sign his name. Thomas had learnt to read and write.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In 1854 Thomas could only put a cross against his signature. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmcl5Or4chOfOoscugbX0_Pxy5scflCUCBulgD9GDB_1WoVI8Wi2Ue-E4iIH3gmgiQ1GgJBnGH6jyndkXGt4xSOIyYULbxtb7kV1UhTqdS1ZsBCj8_rtjoVjQAtlCguYEEm2Js-hNnmeh/s1600/Thomas+Cullip+army+record+sig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmcl5Or4chOfOoscugbX0_Pxy5scflCUCBulgD9GDB_1WoVI8Wi2Ue-E4iIH3gmgiQ1GgJBnGH6jyndkXGt4xSOIyYULbxtb7kV1UhTqdS1ZsBCj8_rtjoVjQAtlCguYEEm2Js-hNnmeh/s400/Thomas+Cullip+army+record+sig.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By 1864 he could write his name.
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Perhaps most interesting is the record of where he was stationed. At some stage between his enlistment in November 1854 and August 1857, Thomas served 17 months in the <st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crimean_War" target="_blank">Crimea</a></st1:place>. From August 1857 he was stationed in India where he was to spend the next 7 years. Fortunately for Thomas, he did not play a part in many of the major incidents of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Indian_Rebellion_of_1857" target="_blank">Indian Rebellion</a> (aka the Indian Mutiny) which began in May 1857. His medal record, found on <a href="http://search.ancestry.co.uk/search/db.aspx?dbid=1686&enc=1" target="_blank">Ancestry</a>, states that although he served in the field from December 1857 to May 1858, he played no part in the capture of Delhi nor the defence or relief of Lucknow. He was, however, engaged in the operations against <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Lucknow" target="_blank">Lucknow</a> in March 1858. I need to find out more information as to what that specifically entailed for Thomas.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whilst in India Thomas suffered two prolonged bouts of sickness. In 1859 he was confined to hospital in Rai Bully (<i>sic</i>) and then in 1864 he was struck down again, this time in Delhi. In both cases his illness was caused by 'climate'. The second illness meant he was out of action for 43 days and he was treated by 'poultice'. An intriguing fact is that this second spell of illness hospitalised him until the 29th November 1864. The very next day was the 10th anniversary of his enlistment. Had Thomas had enough of the illnesses, or the army life, or being away from England? What is recorded is that having served his 10 years, and the very day after he left hospital, Thomas requested a discharge in consequence of "<i>his having claimed it on the termination of the term of his limited engagement</i>". Therefore on the 30th November 1864 a regimental board convened "<i>fo</i><i>r the purpose of
recording and verifying the Services, Conduct, Character, and Cause of
Discharge</i>". Thomas' discharge was approved and he set sail for England in February 1865. His final destination was Tempsford, a small rural village in Bedfordshire, where a year later he was to marry Susan Browning and go on to have four children. He lived out the rest of his life in Tempsford as a ubiquitous 'ag lab'.<br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thomas' life had remained a conundrum to me until that day when I found his service record on Find My Past. I had subscribed to FMP for many years up to that day, and it just proves that it pays to keep looking even in places you've searched before, as new records are coming online all the time. I still don't know where Thomas was when the 1851 census was taken, but I'm positive I will find out one day.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-83232385733696455952012-04-09T10:15:00.000+01:002012-04-09T10:15:55.408+01:00Joseph Roy Stracey 1922-1942 and HMS HermesToday, 9th April 2012, is the 70th anniversary of the sinking of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HMS_Hermes_(95)" target="_blank">HMS Hermes</a> off the coast of Sri Lanka in the Second World War. On board was a 19-year old marine, my uncle, Joseph Roy Stracey. Tragically, he was one of the 307 men who was lost when the ship went down.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAvn0oM_9UEtqz3V0BCLU2JWF8Cf1cF8XXx2mwkjb7rD1NYRFbYojpaHFBWqDrmaZ4SChEBsZIFNIn-G6iwKgacTtcjp1WpGW0BqCUk70vvV7f3QG_er4A7vKJXSZB8k-OsdfuGjP92Ir/s1600/Hermes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimAvn0oM_9UEtqz3V0BCLU2JWF8Cf1cF8XXx2mwkjb7rD1NYRFbYojpaHFBWqDrmaZ4SChEBsZIFNIn-G6iwKgacTtcjp1WpGW0BqCUk70vvV7f3QG_er4A7vKJXSZB8k-OsdfuGjP92Ir/s400/Hermes.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HMS Hermes</td></tr>
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HMS Hermes was the world's first purpose built aircraft carrier, launched in 1919. By the Second World War she was considered to be an old vessel. Nevertheless, she had a distinguished wartime career hunting for German U-boats in the Atlantic and tracking down enemy shipping in the Indian Ocean as part of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_Fleet" target="_blank">Eastern Fleet</a>. The Eastern Fleet was formed in 1941 following Japan's entry to the war the previous December. Japan had experienced a series of successes in the Far East and, with these successes, was winning domination over the Indian Ocean. As a result Britain's vital shipping routes - which she needed to supply India and Ceylon with troops to avert any future invasion by Japan - were under threat. The Eastern Fleet's aim was to regain control of the Indian Ocean, with the fleet temporarily based at Trincomalee on the island of Ceylon.<br />
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On 5th April 1942, Japan attacked the Ceylonese naval base at Colombo sinking several ships. Then, four days later on the 9th April, they turned their sights to Trincomalee. The ships which had been in harbour, including HMS Hermes, had received prior warning that there was going to be an attack so had sailed out into open waters. It was on their return to Trincomalee that they were spotted by Japanese reconnaissance aircraft and attacked by over 30 fighters. She received 40 direct hits and sank within ten minutes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BLGiwcMySve6KcIK9RilfRA-6bNve0Hn5ttzynM2o0659MnYm3Pv0SxLXVE__JDp9v4kBbYTifNXr1u1rEIq-SdVsg6V1uAvwNn5lrmoUz3cGbw4HMSaPl0x1aDFdanx1QJAFFYyiz_v/s1600/HMS+Hermes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5BLGiwcMySve6KcIK9RilfRA-6bNve0Hn5ttzynM2o0659MnYm3Pv0SxLXVE__JDp9v4kBbYTifNXr1u1rEIq-SdVsg6V1uAvwNn5lrmoUz3cGbw4HMSaPl0x1aDFdanx1QJAFFYyiz_v/s400/HMS+Hermes.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The HMS Hermes burns after being attacked by Japanese aircraft.<br />
This photo was taken from a Japanese plane.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98u1i6uSNGBbq_-NpRCPqapBNSgo1JWBIOKhrcGBr8ukK2eb3kPqnGcNDIdV-jowHfn-s34I9bSZYXCJ3YIjFycC7SvPDHN-0aZH_MAGHd_cxiOVx-dy0FRrKgBZ-56jVgV-MfJnSiQIC/s1600/Hermes+sinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98u1i6uSNGBbq_-NpRCPqapBNSgo1JWBIOKhrcGBr8ukK2eb3kPqnGcNDIdV-jowHfn-s34I9bSZYXCJ3YIjFycC7SvPDHN-0aZH_MAGHd_cxiOVx-dy0FRrKgBZ-56jVgV-MfJnSiQIC/s400/Hermes+sinking.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HMS Hermes sinking following her attack by 30 Japanese fighters.</td></tr>
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My 19-year old uncle was one of the many who died on that day. Born and bred in East Finchley, London, he had enlisted in the Royal Marines a month before his 18th birthday. He must have been so eager to join up. Did he feel patriotic? Was he craving adventure in a wider world? His service record states that prior to enlistment he had been a factory hand, so becoming a marine must have offered excitement, a chance to see the world as <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/nathaniel-joe-stracey-1891-1961-life-in.html" target="_blank">his father</a> had done in the previous war. And of course, at that age, one feels immortal. <br />
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Roy had six months of training at the Royal Marines Depot at Deal in Kent before spending the next four months in Plymouth. Whilst training he was pronounced 'good' at swimming, and qualified in Parade, Tactical Training, Naval Gunnery, Small Arms, Anti-Gas and Seamanship. He became part of the Hermes crew in December 1940. <br />
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He was tall, a six-footer like his father, and good-looking. In November 1941, the Hermes underwent a two and a half month refit in Simonstown, South Africa. It was there that Roy met the woman that, according to my father, he became engaged to. Her name was Lorraine and, unfortunately, that's all we know about her. Nonetheless, the one photo we have of them together speaks volumes as it shows two people very much enamoured of each other. It was a romance that was not to end happily as, less than three months after they parted, Roy was dead.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbkggIiB9sgM90b9PVYQmo5FbcT_7ZYcrzcFlnUxPkXX7N90SQFaWi3N4Ul72uJk7iqFNV4iv680B9j42o2PGUtgcGBbOhVqkN1M8CLWyUqXVwcaPyYWg7eiy5lYQi4g3O8T8zUfadpFm/s1600/Joseph+Roy+Stracey+and+Lorraine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDbkggIiB9sgM90b9PVYQmo5FbcT_7ZYcrzcFlnUxPkXX7N90SQFaWi3N4Ul72uJk7iqFNV4iv680B9j42o2PGUtgcGBbOhVqkN1M8CLWyUqXVwcaPyYWg7eiy5lYQi4g3O8T8zUfadpFm/s400/Joseph+Roy+Stracey+and+Lorraine.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy and Lorraine in South Africa</td></tr>
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I often wonder whether his body was recovered and is one of the unknown sailors buried in Trincomalee Cemetery. Or was his body consigned to the deep? I will never know. Either way Roy is commemorated on Plymouth Naval Memorial. The family have visited on several occasions to pay our respects and find his name amongst the thousands of other members of the Royal Navy who have no known grave. For me, I'm incredibly sad that I have an uncle that I never had a chance to know but I keep the photo of him and Lorraine on display in my home to ensure I never forget him.<br />
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This blog is in memory of my Uncle Roy and the other 306 men who died with the HMS Hermes.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBMAdZN28p6eEiQP8Ky9f4oLj6xAELmEZSHjaI7b20_BJT2lvyjr_dQSWktBA_2MtTU_nEJr4RXMPCzgH2DHvLkC3qcI9wylaEYTDQfA5KYdBR_SIJOVJsWm3Au3hg_BCvhdtQeKkUGHl/s1600/Joseph+Roy+Stracey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwBMAdZN28p6eEiQP8Ky9f4oLj6xAELmEZSHjaI7b20_BJT2lvyjr_dQSWktBA_2MtTU_nEJr4RXMPCzgH2DHvLkC3qcI9wylaEYTDQfA5KYdBR_SIJOVJsWm3Au3hg_BCvhdtQeKkUGHl/s400/Joseph+Roy+Stracey.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marine Joseph Roy Stracey 1922-1942</td></tr>
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<br />Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8930841792882327732.post-55029854141326429102012-03-31T18:04:00.000+01:002012-08-05T11:41:48.390+01:00Nathaniel Joe Stracey 1891-1961 - A Life in Pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is a photographic record of my grandfather's life. I wish I had known him, but unfortunately he died a long time before I was born. Photos are all I have to know him by, but I feel, judging by the photos I have, that I would have got on really well with him.<br />
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Nathaniel Joe Stracey was born in 1891 in the village of Sawbridgeworth in Hertfordshire, England, but had moved to East Finchley, north London by the time he was twenty. There he married my grandmother, Esther May Cullip, and had three children. An ordinary man, he lived through extraordinary times. He served in World War One in Mesopotamia and India and lost his eldest son to the Second World War. He first worked as a gardener and then became a postman. He retired in 1957 when he received the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperial_Service_Order" target="_blank">Imperial Service Medal</a> for 'long and meritorious service'. Joe died in East Finchley in 1961, aged 70.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXPEY45Mc9ozltCO5EqcT8OMbPiDVR2TIiOZPzT3c85TyJrcSA5iY_zrjXLMblgnuY2O1mEGjncB9o4e1apQRTl5z8z7nsO2NNELmM-t8CX29nOwYMlmBue21QN6INy_dk34hER1DN7BZ/s1600/Boys+Brigade+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXPEY45Mc9ozltCO5EqcT8OMbPiDVR2TIiOZPzT3c85TyJrcSA5iY_zrjXLMblgnuY2O1mEGjncB9o4e1apQRTl5z8z7nsO2NNELmM-t8CX29nOwYMlmBue21QN6INy_dk34hER1DN7BZ/s320/Boys+Brigade+1.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As a boy Joe was a member of the Boys Brigade, a UK wide<br />
organisation founded in 1854. Its aim was to promote <i>"habits<br />of Obedience, Reverence, Discipline, Self-Respect and all that<br />tends towards a true Christian manliness"</i>. This is probably<br />
the earliest photo of Joe, taken in the first decade of the 20th<br />
century in Sawbridgeworth.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2q0oCy91cWhybhdwGyLU5M2_kqx28VHXRn3p5DpHLlFNJ4jzQh2YRoJ2kfABvsbfG6MFdTTFKtsJW3K-oOzIz-tSxJBGtZCKjw6Y_ev5rGVPPev05HI0znq1W-Xq8zFB1namCYvRsPqAY/s400/NJ+-+wedding+day+maybe.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="313" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is a</span> teenage Joe, looking very smart and with a flower in his<br />
lapel. He appears to be attending a wedding, although, as he got<br />
married when he was 23, I don't believe this was taken at his own<br />
marriage ceremony. He looks far too young.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jwZ4ygpxYN9CZ39GjBoZhisepw7XzzhpsQE98xezBZWOB4ZwqM_Krq0al6SG324J03vvzgWZVOLnsntr8Lzk5Hy0AlXNAtKfMRV0nDlsiAR224nPMjFGac_ZaeE_w2JwGQKZ3851NWKJ/s1600/NJ+Gardener.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jwZ4ygpxYN9CZ39GjBoZhisepw7XzzhpsQE98xezBZWOB4ZwqM_Krq0al6SG324J03vvzgWZVOLnsntr8Lzk5Hy0AlXNAtKfMRV0nDlsiAR224nPMjFGac_ZaeE_w2JwGQKZ3851NWKJ/s400/NJ+Gardener.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the 1911 census, Joe was working as a gardener at a large house, the Grange,<br />
in East Finchley. But at the time of his marriage to Esther May he was working as a<br />
gardener at Lambeth Palace, the London home of the Archbishops of Canterbury.<br />
This photo could have been taken at either establishment. But how smart they look<br />
- working men in overalls, yet wearing ties.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxX40Lp1x1o_3CfQSfGI_qS9wyalSGIdmmp1ahL9FcD-yf6V7hZRnzpVmgIffc_zAHsQ9knDJA6IasXKwAHocXH8KqnKNzQU0JQhFzF5lZfXSslFleEyhUpn0SkSr2K7an78CwU4tZNjzS/s1600/NJ+in+unjiform+%2526+Esther+May.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxX40Lp1x1o_3CfQSfGI_qS9wyalSGIdmmp1ahL9FcD-yf6V7hZRnzpVmgIffc_zAHsQ9knDJA6IasXKwAHocXH8KqnKNzQU0JQhFzF5lZfXSslFleEyhUpn0SkSr2K7an78CwU4tZNjzS/s320/NJ+in+unjiform+%2526+Esther+May.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In December 1914 Joe married Esther May Cullip. This is probably<br />
their wedding portrait as Esther is displaying her wedding ring and<br />
they are seated in the classic 'newly weds pose'. By this time, Joe<br />
was enlisted in the 5th Battalion of the East Kent Regiment, also<br />
known as the Buffs. He looks incredibly dashing...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8aPTdALR0NyIw1TQluR06wHFLgAzWvfwWSmGuyY81AqttlEukvsOYXW4QYI5cR9sa_HtXM6x6llZQZtYNJa27n0hIqs0giCIy2nvGOKpS0vmh5_yLRBRWedJFckajA9tjfYBpRjts3dv/s1600/NJ+in+Meso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC8aPTdALR0NyIw1TQluR06wHFLgAzWvfwWSmGuyY81AqttlEukvsOYXW4QYI5cR9sa_HtXM6x6llZQZtYNJa27n0hIqs0giCIy2nvGOKpS0vmh5_yLRBRWedJFckajA9tjfYBpRjts3dv/s400/NJ+in+Meso.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the Buffs, Joe traveled to Africa, India and Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq).<br />
His diary, written in 1917, reveals the voyage he undertook, stopping at Freetown<br />
(Sierra Leone), sailing past the Ascension Islands, landing in Cape Town, then Durban<br />
(South Africa) before finally disembarking in Bombay. Their stay in India was short<br />
however, as within three months they were in Mesopotamia, where Joe stayed until at<br />
least 1919. My grandfather is the tall chap in the back row with the moustache. They<br />
are all carrying, or wearing, pith helmets with sun protection.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuULZ5qn0pcZawImkStAmHEtRsWrpQ2exJ9cfvoKk1113evbH0Ek2lygtMSNHOU7HbfLfv48sA0qkwUHBqY3oFXDuiN-6w3qGv6wOWFa0rhvjpbDEF6K4vRLNN4bwASRMxK6uxujWUxBPx/s1600/NJ+in+Iraq+or+India.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuULZ5qn0pcZawImkStAmHEtRsWrpQ2exJ9cfvoKk1113evbH0Ek2lygtMSNHOU7HbfLfv48sA0qkwUHBqY3oFXDuiN-6w3qGv6wOWFa0rhvjpbDEF6K4vRLNN4bwASRMxK6uxujWUxBPx/s400/NJ+in+Iraq+or+India.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very relaxed Joe with puttees on his legs and his pith<br />
helmet by his feet. This photo was taken in either<br />
Mesopotamia or India.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXEIRlqX0dvWVC5kBfmf7VSKq69y8PTSL0il20vi-LPSSiYlOkS0KxPzruQyGJ15XrP8arpOWZOsqWtY8kRs1T1RZF2OHJWaGTinsI9XwsLtjF4SESWbpO1EsuQjNIMtFIi5kN-axkeo6/s1600/Dad+%2526+family+1935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXEIRlqX0dvWVC5kBfmf7VSKq69y8PTSL0il20vi-LPSSiYlOkS0KxPzruQyGJ15XrP8arpOWZOsqWtY8kRs1T1RZF2OHJWaGTinsI9XwsLtjF4SESWbpO1EsuQjNIMtFIi5kN-axkeo6/s400/Dad+%2526+family+1935.jpg" width="383" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After Joe was demobbed he returned to East Finchley and his family.<br />
His eldest child, Gladys, was born in 1916. But it was not until 1922 that<br />
his eldest son, Joseph Roy, was born, followed a few years later by my<br />
dad. This photo was taken in 1935 and shows Joe, Esther May, Roy and<br />
my dad on the beach. Joe is still wearing a tie!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxts-euRL1d5IykFS6aPbMh7LLT0r0sdkE1x3YlHCMCpn40mRBRkuVr3LS6VEu8HLm42RHCRebm8DwaHk4LxF-RXVwnZt-KphSK40xPADrqVttYnTdRkuaHAmTm-cIdukx7_joMQPKAEbE/s1600/NJ+Postman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxts-euRL1d5IykFS6aPbMh7LLT0r0sdkE1x3YlHCMCpn40mRBRkuVr3LS6VEu8HLm42RHCRebm8DwaHk4LxF-RXVwnZt-KphSK40xPADrqVttYnTdRkuaHAmTm-cIdukx7_joMQPKAEbE/s400/NJ+Postman.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In 1935 Joe became a postman, a job he held until his<br />
retirement in 1957. Here he is standing proudly outside<br />
his home in East Finchley, with Esther May in the<br />
background, with his bike and postbag.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAs_GNRdVogjam2_NPVJR2qDpSRv8_eudM_IffcxQPfeRchX1478iN0a60JcQGWjUTO2gYy-r9g3lVxnp0iXttsetgJ0GouiFgtJRVEVCDjbxhOVn2BV43GJ43CAYWI6k-5oLiHe_Nisy/s1600/Dad%252C+NJ+and+Esther+May.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcAs_GNRdVogjam2_NPVJR2qDpSRv8_eudM_IffcxQPfeRchX1478iN0a60JcQGWjUTO2gYy-r9g3lVxnp0iXttsetgJ0GouiFgtJRVEVCDjbxhOVn2BV43GJ43CAYWI6k-5oLiHe_Nisy/s400/Dad%252C+NJ+and+Esther+May.jpg" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo was probably taken around 1940. Although<br />
their expressions are serious, it's a relaxed photo with<br />
my dad resting his hand on his father's knee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghosWTWO6ijCUeaR8MHPzaVwDPF4JIiEmNHTfsYApS-xGnPb4y44FIe-CJyebxVZDrz_Q-VHTzs2fhBKjaYT7vtoOIdYr6SaMNlf4LcwRo5vWdMA3DdZqAK5cqV8X9Kw0fDHzJKLMvCmJC/s1600/NJ+and+Esther+May.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghosWTWO6ijCUeaR8MHPzaVwDPF4JIiEmNHTfsYApS-xGnPb4y44FIe-CJyebxVZDrz_Q-VHTzs2fhBKjaYT7vtoOIdYr6SaMNlf4LcwRo5vWdMA3DdZqAK5cqV8X9Kw0fDHzJKLMvCmJC/s400/NJ+and+Esther+May.jpg" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Happy and at ease in the late 1940s.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFCt9RkYBuHtKLf0l9VhUagjXFEDppGnqXH9x2CA0GDaK9u2aoXr-AvHdufHc_2urLEnBGMIHFv9QTv3iMaUmXT8fv1nyWuO7i_LmInQDk8fUxkT7tr0C-MrhzwG7gCPPd2FqbUIhoza4/s1600/NJ+%2526+Esther+May.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNFCt9RkYBuHtKLf0l9VhUagjXFEDppGnqXH9x2CA0GDaK9u2aoXr-AvHdufHc_2urLEnBGMIHFv9QTv3iMaUmXT8fv1nyWuO7i_LmInQDk8fUxkT7tr0C-MrhzwG7gCPPd2FqbUIhoza4/s400/NJ+%2526+Esther+May.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe died in 1961, aged 70. He died in the house<br />
he'd lived in for the last 40 years. Esther May<br />
followed him eight years later. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17171563783123227735noreply@blogger.com2