tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47832148283574239382024-03-14T04:35:32.069+08:00A Pocket Full of Family MemoriesMy Written Journey Back To My Roots and Heritage : From England to AustraliaRelics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-14745092250957845932023-06-02T14:10:00.007+08:002023-06-03T14:39:50.923+08:00Lilian Jane Margaret Watkins (nee Lanyon)<p style="text-align: justify;">In the early hours of yesterday morning my mother-in-law Jane Watkins (nee Lanyon) passed away. I knew instantly that I wanted to honour her life in some way even if it is through this humble blog post. I first met Jane in August 1999, just weeks after her 51st birthday. I was immediately struck by her no nonsense attitude and fiercely determined spirit. Seven years prior she had been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease related to manganese poisoning. When I met her, she had a barely noticeable limp and she held her left arm across her chest but she didn't ever complain or allow it to slow her down or inhibit her life. She continued her life in that vain, even as the prolonged manganese poisoning symptoms began to take away her abilities to walk, talk and basically function. For a time, Jane continued to travel with her husband, my father-in-law Roy, and enjoy the simplicity of life. She could no longer do the things she loved most in all the world, her pottery and artwork. Over time the symptoms of her disease robbed her of the ability to sculpt and paint.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Jane came from a long line of Cornish artists, notably her father Peter Lanyon (read about him <a href="https://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com/2013/01/peter-lanyon-cornish-artist.html" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: #cc0000;">here</span></a><u> </u>in my blogpost written ten years ago). Her brothers Andrew, Matthew, Jo and Martin are also revered artists. I had the pleasure of meeting some of Jane's family when I visited the Cornish coast in 2006. I felt an instant connection with her mother Sheila and her nephews Arthur and John. Being able to see Jane's extended family and her beloved Newlyn through her mother's eyes, I became fascinated with the Lanyon family and began researching the family tree. However, I wish I had of asked more questions of both Sheila and Jane but both of them possessed a "look ahead" only spirit. I honestly felt that they would simply evade my questions and curiosity, not because of any sense of family pride or rudeness but from a standpoint that life goes on, look forward towards the future, and don't dwell or look back on the past.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">For instance, when I first met Sheila at her house in Newlyn, she had a framed photograph of her late husband Peter resting on a table beside her armchair. When I pointed it out, admiring his youthful good looks, she simply waved her arm around flippantly and said "Yes, that's Peter" and said no more on the subject but got up to go put the kettle on. Sharing memories of Peter Lanyon were usually shrugged off and mentioned only in passing. I also personally felt that for Jane's sake, her father died as a result of injuries incurred from a gliding accident when she was just 16 years of age, so bringing him up in conversation might have felt almost too intimate for Jane. I remember only once she spoke about him at great length and brought out some books and reels to show me; she sat on the floor with me for a short time but then without another word, got up and left me alone to pour through them. She rarely said another word about her father to me, it was like the door had quietly closed leaving no room for loitering in the doorway but to swiftly move on and never look back. I respected that silent motion at the time, but I do now regret that I didn't ask her any more about her childhood.</p><table 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/AVvXsEjwZ_jwDXGnDSRYJU9rMj9X6kIO-oQrgYyDxuVRO_Kc9I_mPisRkhjYhOLcY0g2IljUZQamc0Zw1wRo02tC54D4RfU9CCjivUpy6nXg89CpRRv79ys4dVsTE47TzgastOvnOpshkXxr7d4t4Ks3Cno727zrvWF9obgIbdq-hGsM4-Vv8IBAHgPZk8Tf/s1848/JaneLanyon_aged16.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1848" data-original-width="1360" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZ_jwDXGnDSRYJU9rMj9X6kIO-oQrgYyDxuVRO_Kc9I_mPisRkhjYhOLcY0g2IljUZQamc0Zw1wRo02tC54D4RfU9CCjivUpy6nXg89CpRRv79ys4dVsTE47TzgastOvnOpshkXxr7d4t4Ks3Cno727zrvWF9obgIbdq-hGsM4-Vv8IBAHgPZk8Tf/s320/JaneLanyon_aged16.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favourite photos of Jane in her youth.<br />This was taken around 1964.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Jane was a wonderful mother-in-law. She made no fuss, interfered <i>only once</i> in my bringing up of her grandchild, and she quietly doted on all of her friends and loved ones. She was always smiling, I remember the many times we visited her and Roy, she would usually always be in the kitchen pottering around, baking and cooking even though she was increasingly restricted in her movements. She rarely sat still, she just developed a natural shuffle to get about in her own way. She would laugh heartily too. I can hear her laughter in my mind even now, and in the months before her passing she laughed at Goon Show references and my rendition of "A Little of What You Fancy". And yes, she sometimes cried unabashed too, especially as the years passed and she grew increasingly frustrated and restricted.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I shall miss Jane profoundly. Her legacy is of course her artworks, her pottery and her paintings. But also her husband of 52 years, her two sons, her two grandchildren, her extended family in the UK, and her lifelong friends in Australia. I shall miss her smiling face, her cheery outlook, her infectious laughter. Thank you for being my mother-in-law for 22 years. Rest in peace. You fought a long, arduous battle and you did it with dignity and sober realism. It was a pleasure to know you and call you family.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">For further reading on Jane's journey to uncovering more about her manganese poisoning and Parkinsonism please read this <span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="https://digitalfire.com/hazard/406" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: #cc0000;">article</span></a>.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-4045912817236497412020-11-26T07:17:00.013+08:002023-01-19T15:38:07.073+08:00Lilian Katie : 100 Years<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: arial;">This is a very special post which is dedicated to my maternal
grandmother, Lilian Katie Humphries, who was born on this day 100 years
ago.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">
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I have written about her <a href="https://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com/2011/08/lilian-katie-humphries-abt-1940-i-have.html" target="_blank">here</a></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nannie Lilian will always be fondly remembered for many things but the most important thing she taught me, whether intentionally or not, was that combing your hair and putting powder on your face and rouge on your cheeks made you look and feel much better, even if you didn't necessarily feel that way underneath. My Nannie spent almost all of her life unwell, mostly from asthma and bronchial ailments, as well as heart conditions, but she always managed to run a comb through her hair and apply some rouge on her cheeks. I used to watch her apply her favourite <i>Bourjois</i> rouge and I still have her last used blush pot in my archive box, given to me in more recent years by my mother. Nannie Lilian also passed on to me her passionate love for London. Regrettably, I haven't returned there for many years now but whenever I see it on television, in a movie, drama series or documentary, I can feel my heart automatically soar. London is such a wonderful place and as Samuel Johnson once famously said in 1777, <i>"those who tire of London tire of life"</i>. For me, that saying lies deep within my psyche even today, because London has always made me feel recharged, fully present and energised whenever I am there. Not only that, I also feel a strong ancestral connection there and that fills me with honour.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I miss you every single day Nannie but please know that I always think of you and often recall childhood memories as I go about my daily life. I am forever grateful that you were a part of my childhood and teenage years. You were taken from us way too soon. I love you.<br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6fNEwXAt6nNwGCuHL3L3VYdkEpzoR98WY-8hZtugxPNr0bQeh5c5C1nY8_j5qA781Dc4DLsL3xLtn2uYRkiY6Ls8cLMiK1ZY_ZXquWOMUydAY4yq5G0LC8RfX8YO5DsDEHBbPiejCTg/s640/20-11-25-20-48-31-125_deco.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="524" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS6fNEwXAt6nNwGCuHL3L3VYdkEpzoR98WY-8hZtugxPNr0bQeh5c5C1nY8_j5qA781Dc4DLsL3xLtn2uYRkiY6Ls8cLMiK1ZY_ZXquWOMUydAY4yq5G0LC8RfX8YO5DsDEHBbPiejCTg/w262-h320/20-11-25-20-48-31-125_deco.jpg" width="262" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-9875120674587376082018-11-11T17:10:00.001+08:002018-11-11T17:10:25.419+08:00Thank You... Armistice Day 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This is my first blog post in three and a half years *shock face* I have been away from blogging, writing and family history research and concentrating my energies elsewhere but I will never ever forget my ancestry. I will never forget the sacrifices, the losses, the struggles, and their strength and dedication. This is my promise to my ancestors, my living family, and especially my daughter.</div>
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This special post honors the centenary of the end of the Great War or World War One (WWI). At this solemn time I am once again reminded of those who fought for their country and lost their lives. Husbands, boyfriends, friends, school chums, work colleagues, brothers, cousins, nephews. uncles, sons, grandsons - lost, yet never forgotten. I would also like to acknowledge all the courageous women who served as nurses, both at home and overseas.</div>
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🌺James JOLLY</div>
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1880 - 1914 Norfolk Regiment</div>
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From Bungay, SFK not married</div>
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🌺William Burgoine WATERS</div>
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1889 - 1917 Norfolk Regiment</div>
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From Beccles, SFK married, five children</div>
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🌺Sidney PRESTON</div>
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1889 - 1918 Essex Regiment</div>
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From Holt, NFK married, no children</div>
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In April of this year I took a trip to Kings Park as it was the centenary of Sidney Preston's death. I made a special lanyard and attached his school photograph and a Preston family photo of happier times with his family, on a picnic at the beach, taken before the war broke out which changed everybody's life. I took photographs, as well as some video footage and I recited the Ode of Remembrance. These are a few of the photographs from that trip (10 April 2018):<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sidney Preston 1889 - 1918</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eternal Flame, Kings Park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My special lanyard made especially for Sidney</td></tr>
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<br /> <i>ADDENDUM: 11 November 2018</i><br />
I have just returned home from Kings Park where the centenary Armistice Day service was held. The crowds were on a much grander scale than in the previous years I've attended (2014/5/6/7). Not only was Mark McGowan (Premier of WA) in attendance this year but also Kim Beasley (Governor of WA) as well as several government dignitaries and officials. Most importantly, the soldiers who have served our country, who received respectful yet hearty applause at the closing of the service. This show of respect touched my heart and also moved a few of them to tears.<br />
As I walked around looking at the sea of handmade poppies (over 61,000 were made for the occasion) and taking photographs with my phone, a young girl approached me and asked about my photographs. I told her who they were and she then told me her two of her 3xgreat-uncles served (and died) in WWI and their names are on the War Memorial. One of them was named <i>Percy!</i><br />
I was deeply moved by the events of today, and I am extremely grateful to have had the opportunity to attend the service. Seeing thousands of people, young and old, and feeling the depth of mutual respect. Some were wearing military medals and/or pins, some were wearing commemorative t-shirts or slouch hats, <i>everyone</i> was wearing poppies. Witnessing the sea of handmade poppies is something I will not forget for a long time to come. Here are some photographs from today's service (11 November 2018):<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAqLv72ANjgxAC3lFZ8fR5S0IkP3IXHBDsyG4F7RTMYST86f0dTo0I5IOmJh0ZipvLHV0Uvzc_D41HGeHZBCb2-UNaBbPW3_EG3O-msWsUwrQffEC6XrQadzZS-Hnk8yQY6wGHUZCONI/s1600/20181111_120002_edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="829" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQAqLv72ANjgxAC3lFZ8fR5S0IkP3IXHBDsyG4F7RTMYST86f0dTo0I5IOmJh0ZipvLHV0Uvzc_D41HGeHZBCb2-UNaBbPW3_EG3O-msWsUwrQffEC6XrQadzZS-Hnk8yQY6wGHUZCONI/s320/20181111_120002_edited.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Jolly 1880 - 1914<br />The rosary beads belonged to my great-grandmother Nellie<br />who was James' sister</td></tr>
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<b><i>🌺Lest We Forget</i></b>🌺</div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-34081232202909257092015-04-17T10:19:00.000+08:002017-04-07T08:23:58.350+08:00Winifred Ellen : 100 Years<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is a very special post which is dedicated to my paternal grandmother, Winifred Ellen Waters, who was born on this day 100 years ago.</div>
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I have written about her <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/winifred-waters-1915-1996.htm" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Nannie Freda taught me many things but most of all she taught me the
true meaning of family and its history. She always encouraged me to
explore my family history and to write about it. She often said I had
the gift for writing, as did her own mother Eva who wrote articles for the church newsletters. Nannie also taught me the full appreciation of home and what it means to have roots. Beccles was her home for almost all of her life, and my love of home comes from her. Whenever I write about Beccles, I feel as though she is controlling my pen.</div>
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I miss you every
single day Nannie but I know that you are a constant guiding light in my
life, and I am forever grateful for your presence. I love you.</div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-59797452924433694732014-11-24T13:08:00.001+08:002014-11-24T13:22:24.264+08:00James "Jumbo" Jolly<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have previously posted about my great grand-uncle James Jolly, particularly at times of Remembrance. He was killed in action on this day, one hundred years ago. The Great War was barely three months old when James was fighting on the front lines during the First Battle of Ypres.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDksy3mcsX3q8lwI2tghQgTKt54TdEmcC85ZBiZ7Qs01P5OryWqKpkCTiLJL0WTMqr2DGeUYwicxFxscqlRUTZTB3H6twZlCnKhzj_RvVl8yLM1cnsDt2eTPxx4fL_WQrNUxrQO0NWQE0/s1600/James+Jumbo+Jolly+-+killed+in+WW1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDksy3mcsX3q8lwI2tghQgTKt54TdEmcC85ZBiZ7Qs01P5OryWqKpkCTiLJL0WTMqr2DGeUYwicxFxscqlRUTZTB3H6twZlCnKhzj_RvVl8yLM1cnsDt2eTPxx4fL_WQrNUxrQO0NWQE0/s1600/James+Jumbo+Jolly+-+killed+in+WW1.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Jolly, circa 1899</td></tr>
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James Jolly was born in 1880 in Bungay, county Suffolk. He was the son of William Jolly and Emma, nee Clarke. James was baptised at Bungay Holy Trinity Church on 16 November 1881. He joined the Norfolk Regiment at around the age of 19 and served with the 2nd Battalion in the Boer War from 1899-1902.</div>
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James' nickname was Jumbo. This could have stemmed from the fact that he had large ears. Bless him.<br />
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In 1894, when James was thirteen years old, he was sent before the Bungay Petty Sessions (with H. Rider Haggard presiding) for stealing seven rabbit traps, the property of Mr C French of St John Ilketshall. James did not work alone, he was with Arthur Ward and his brother Herbert Ward, and Edward Barber. Arthur Ward, who was twelve years old at the time, would go on to become my great-grandfather.</div>
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When war broke out in 1914, James served with the 1st Battalion Norfolk Regiment and was sent to France. According to the website <a href="http://www.1914-1918.net/norfolks.htm">http://www.1914-1918.net/norfolks.htm</a> the 1st Battalion formed part of the 15th Brigade, 5th Division and landed at Le Havre in August 1914. The 5th Division were involved in the following:</div>
<b><i>The Battle of Mons and subsequent retreat, including the Action of Elouges <br />
The Battle of Le Cateau and the Affair of Crepy-en-Valois <br />
The
Battle of the Marne<br />
The
Battle of the Aisne<br />
The Battles of La Bassee and Messines 1914<br />
The First Battle of Ypres</i></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5YcqH2GciRQP7zy5AlOnRf4Ap7dUkPK5vd2V1w5eLXwmPEpyjKo_gp5IsGJ3zUXss7KdWIg7gtI4Xr7Vb6c9QeiLmqYqHcUcy7ODCXvM16BabFI5XM3Sya-T30IdQfOOVtgqIXb-erc/s1600/James+Jumbo+Jolly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5YcqH2GciRQP7zy5AlOnRf4Ap7dUkPK5vd2V1w5eLXwmPEpyjKo_gp5IsGJ3zUXss7KdWIg7gtI4Xr7Vb6c9QeiLmqYqHcUcy7ODCXvM16BabFI5XM3Sya-T30IdQfOOVtgqIXb-erc/s1600/James+Jumbo+Jolly.jpg" height="320" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">James Jolly, circa 1914</td></tr>
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<i>Grey field of Flanders, grim old battle-plain,</i></div>
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<i>What armies held the iron line round Ypres in the rain,</i></div>
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<i>From Bixschoote to Baeceleare and down to the Lys river?</i></div>
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<i>Merry men of England,</i></div>
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<i>Men of the green shires,</i></div>
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<i>From the winding waters,</i></div>
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<i>The elm-trees and the spires,</i></div>
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<i>And the lone village dreaming in the downland yonder.</i></div>
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<i>Half a million Huns broke over them in thunder,</i></div>
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<i>Roaring seas of Huns swept on and sunk again,</i></div>
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<i>Where fought the men of England round Ypres in the rain,</i></div>
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<i>On the grim plain of Flanders, whose earth is fed with slaughter.</i></div>
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--- Margaret Louisa Woods (1845-1945)</div>
Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-78225378942681297292014-10-30T18:14:00.000+08:002014-10-30T18:14:03.202+08:00Bussey Woodrow<div style="text-align: justify;">
My second great granduncle Bussey Woodrow was born in Fulham, county Middlesex in 1842. He was the first born son of my three times great-grandparents, Bussey Woodrow and Louisa Powell.</div>
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Bussey is a unique name, and one I had not heard of in my family history until I received my two times great-grandmother's birth certificate in the post. My first thought on reading the father's name was that it said <i>"Bufsey"</i>. Of course, I now realise the written meaning of the double S in transcripts. According to the Ancestry website Bussey means:</div>
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<i>English (of Norman origin): habitational name from any of
several places in Normandy, France: Boucé in Orne, from which came
Robert de Buci mentioned in Domesday Book, Bouce (Manche), or
Bucy-le-Long (Aisne). All are named with a Latin personal name
Buccius (presumably a derivative of bucca ‘mouth’) + the
locative suffix -acum.Altered spelling of German
Busse.</i></div>
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I am yet to determine where the name originated from to be used in my family.</div>
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Bussey Woodrow was a Letter Carrier, and he lived in various places within the London area including Belgravia, Hanover Square and then later, in Battersea. During his life time he was married three times and had at least five known children. His first wife, Mary Ann, died after they were married for two-and-a-half years. Perhaps she died in childbirth? She was just 25 years old. Around six months later, Bussey married Susannah Catchpole with whom he had five known children, all boys: Harry, Bertie, Walter, Frank and Ernest. Susannah died in 1896, aged 48. The following year Bussey married Emma Chapman.</div>
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Bussey joined the British Postal Service on 12 February 1866 as a Letter Carrier. The occupation title was changed to Postman in 1883. This is reflected in the census returns where Bussey's occupation before 1891 was recorded as Letter Carrier and from 1891 onwards, Postman.</div>
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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/AVvXsEh2KV7WVVHzP9oN3bJGv3Id85MGi5Q2xJcxpwn1iRYrWQBN-PVQAMWr9LoROPTSo8HJ4Iv6wdf-Mo51NN-w1r7-xI_4aoN7FsNXmXEV_7yya_UqV4P7jzQrAwLLlaXmzJDYqtsHVkYvwPU/s1600/the-illustrated-london-news-dec-29-1860-lettercarriers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2KV7WVVHzP9oN3bJGv3Id85MGi5Q2xJcxpwn1iRYrWQBN-PVQAMWr9LoROPTSo8HJ4Iv6wdf-Mo51NN-w1r7-xI_4aoN7FsNXmXEV_7yya_UqV4P7jzQrAwLLlaXmzJDYqtsHVkYvwPU/s1600/the-illustrated-london-news-dec-29-1860-lettercarriers.jpg" height="296" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Illustrated London News, 1860<br />
postalheritage.wordpress.com</td></tr>
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Today we have airplanes, trains, ferries, motorcycles and motorised vans to deliver all of our mail items across the world. We have a raft of express delivery services, airmail and seamail choices, and vending machines that supply stamps. Before Bussey became a Letter Carrier in the 1860s, horses and coaches were the main method of delivering mail. This was an idea first formed by John Palmer, a theatre owner in Bath, who used carriage services to transport props and actors around the countryside. In 1782 Palmer took his idea of using carriages to transport mail around the country, to London where the Chancellor of the Exchequer, William Pitt, accepted the idea and in 1784 an experimental mail coach journey succeeded in paving the way for a faster, more efficient postal delivery service. The development of the railway saw the demise of the mail coaches, with trains first used for delivering mail in 1830. Later in the 19th century, London would also undergo a massive change with the introduction of the Underground rail system.</div>
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In Bussey's time as a Letter Carrier he would have walked the congested London streets hand-delivering mail to businesses and residences in his designated area. He would have walked in all elements of weather, including thick fog and snow. His mail bag would have been made of cloth, which attracted mice so most Post Offices had to employ cats to catch and kill the mice. Horses and ponies were used to deliver mail up and down the country even after the demise of the mail coaches as they pulled the mail carts and vans until the 1930s when motorised vehicles replaced a great many horse-drawn vans (except, of course, for the more remote areas). The last horse-drawn mail van was seen in London in 1949. Bicycles did not become fully popular until the 20th century.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4qFEnm1gPNKwdOcghDYrEA_TILHGJ3DhH-ZXBQrPzRbGn-ToBnMvOhGbnCNyNYyGtnMr5TGWsFG8QBJJbD3eNkYHuQ9kcvDwZtFV635aQ9-IlLBO0H8GNeil6Kl3UGh6O5ajvxUnazk/s1600/Horse_drawn_mail_van__1887_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4qFEnm1gPNKwdOcghDYrEA_TILHGJ3DhH-ZXBQrPzRbGn-ToBnMvOhGbnCNyNYyGtnMr5TGWsFG8QBJJbD3eNkYHuQ9kcvDwZtFV635aQ9-IlLBO0H8GNeil6Kl3UGh6O5ajvxUnazk/s1600/Horse_drawn_mail_van__1887_1.jpg" height="196" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Horse-drawn Mail Cart, 1887<br />
www.postalheritage.org.uk</td></tr>
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Bussey Woodrow died in May 1905, aged 68. He was buried at West Norwood Cemetery in Lambeth. Among the notable burials there are Isabella Beeton, Sir Henry Tate and Dr William Marsden. In 1911 Bussey's widow, Emma Woodrow, was living with her sister Sarah in Kentish Town, St Pancras. It is believed that Emma Woodrow died in 1913 (Wandsworth area) but she could have died in 1928 in St Pancras. Bussey's brother, Frederick John Powell Woodrow, lived in Putney which is an area most familiar to my maternal family history. My two times great-grandmother Louisa Woodrow, who was Bussey and Frederick's sister, also lived there as a married woman. </div>
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If you have any Postal Service ancestors, I urge you to visit The British Postal Museum & Archive at <a href="http://www.postalheritage.org.uk/">http://www.postalheritage.org.uk/</a>.
There is so much to see there, and it includes just about everything
you would ever want to know about the postal service. It has sections for family
history, school and further education and provides an extensive history
of the Royal Mail dating back to the 1600s.</div>
Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-25379952132699687062014-09-22T19:33:00.000+08:002014-09-22T19:33:06.322+08:00The Live Bait Squadron : Centenary<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today marks 100 years since the sinking of three Cressy-class armoured cruiser ships, HMS Hogue and her sisters HMS Aboukir and HMS Cressy. All three ships were hit by German U-Boat torpedoes in the morning of 22 September 1914.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The three ships which were to become known as the "Live Bait Squadron" were patrolling in the North Sea when they were torpedoed without warning. The combined total from all three ships was approximately 837 men rescued and 62 officers, and 1,397 men lost.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2niMyEk_fh5m5Q_J2v3dt4jSpJaDZ2zFC4TRAHe8UQGLdoJoOkZ7k_hDycKi8w7aMce0N0fx3hSFhK9uq-VqpOJskHDRefI4d4UTjSNyapdTdXhrE8IgRuuQAsl9nInvnJy1ccUMwns/s1600/HMSHogue1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2niMyEk_fh5m5Q_J2v3dt4jSpJaDZ2zFC4TRAHe8UQGLdoJoOkZ7k_hDycKi8w7aMce0N0fx3hSFhK9uq-VqpOJskHDRefI4d4UTjSNyapdTdXhrE8IgRuuQAsl9nInvnJy1ccUMwns/s1600/HMSHogue1.jpg" height="163" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">HMS Hogue</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of these men was my great-grandfather, Albert Humphries. Born in 1884, he lied about his age to join the Royal Navy in 1899. He served a total of 12 years, and joined the London Police Force in 1907. Ill-health prevented him from staying with the Force, taking retirement in 1911. When World War One broke out, Albert joined the Royal Naval Reserve and was posted to HMS Hogue. His commander was Reginald A Norton. Both men survived.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In November 1914, my great-uncle was born. His given name was Reginald Norton Humphries. The Norton name was passed from Reginald to his son and daughter and to his grandsons.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6KwhzNsmzL_ydFEKU400nsGWxVXdzMdp_BXxpmfSjDK7mF3dsdsDE2TlmGa_Gh3iH7aQ6uvdbzEcpwAo-baamOxvHf_hmhVDR2E_slPk6DwMtVMVUXC1X6kH2VS2QodVaZ_co9kMO5c/s1600/Cruisers5_AlbertHumphries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA6KwhzNsmzL_ydFEKU400nsGWxVXdzMdp_BXxpmfSjDK7mF3dsdsDE2TlmGa_Gh3iH7aQ6uvdbzEcpwAo-baamOxvHf_hmhVDR2E_slPk6DwMtVMVUXC1X6kH2VS2QodVaZ_co9kMO5c/s1600/Cruisers5_AlbertHumphries.jpg" height="203" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The Times newspaper, September 1914<br />My great-grandfather's name (top, right)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We will remember them. Lest we forget. God Bless them all.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For more information please see this wonderful website: <a href="http://www.livebaitsqn-soc.info/the-live-bait-squadron/">http://www.livebaitsqn-soc.info/the-live-bait-squadron/</a></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> and Albert Humphries' details have been kindly added by Henk van der Linden: <a href="http://www.livebaitsqn-soc.info/images/hms-hogue/#humphries">http://www.livebaitsqn-soc.info/images/hms-hogue/#humphries</a></span></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-14664679135218180082014-08-29T17:53:00.001+08:002014-08-29T18:06:02.171+08:00One Lovely Blog<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I've been nominated for the ONE LOVELY BLOG Award by
the very lovely Elizabeth Lloyd (thank you for thinking of me). You can find her Lovely Blog Award post <a href="http://somerville66.blogspot.co.uk/" target="_blank">here</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">If
I've nominated your blog, please don't feel under any obligation to
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like.</span></i></span></span></span></div>
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Here are the rules for the One Lovely Blog Award:</span></div>
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• Thank the person that nominated you and link back to that
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• Share seven things about yourself – see below.</span></div>
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• Nominate 15 bloggers you admire – also listed below (or as many as you can think of!).</span></div>
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• Contact your bloggers to let them know you've tagged them
for the One Lovely Blog Award.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Seven Things About Me</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">1. I love Family History</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ever since I was a child, listening to all the stories my grandmother Freda told me about the family and about the town I grew up in, I have loved it. When I had my daughter there was a strong voice within me that told me to get back into it and pursue it seriously. I took the baton from my mother who had made some inroads into her side of the family. Armed with a notebook I had kept years before, I made a start and have never looked back. My daughter turns 13 next week and I haven't finished yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">2. Which leads me to my second best love...Beccles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I grew up in the Suffolk market town and even though I left to live in Australia with my Mum at the age of 12, I have never forgotten my roots. Beccles is deep within my heart, and firmly under my skin. I am currently writing a house & street history on Peddars Lane, where I grew up in the 1970s. My e-published novella, Symphony of War, is based in Beccles and I also write a blog about the history of the town called <a href="http://relicsofbeccleshistory.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">Relics of Beccles</a>. I did have a Twitter account of the same name but I gave it away when it became harder to only tweet 140 characters at a time! My second novel is also based in Beccles and loosely utilizes some of the factual history of the period in which it's written (1912).</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Beccles from the Church Tower, 2014<br />Taken by Brett Ford @ Guru Photo Genix</span> </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">3. I love Writing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">From a very early age I loved to write stories and English was always my favourite subject at school. When I was a little older I became a lover of writing letters and when I moved to Australia that passion flourished as I wrote regularly to my father and grandmother. In my teenage years writing left me (well, I left it) and for a long time stories stayed dormant inside me until I was in my mid-twenties. Even then, I only got so far as the fifth chapter before I threw it away. Then I met my husband. He has spent the last twelve years encouraging me to let loose the inner demons and to start writing again. If it wasn't for his support, I wouldn't have started blogging and writing again. Symphony of War would exist only in my head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">4. I love Cats</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I had several cats growing up but it wasn't until 1996 that I really learned what loving a cat meant. I had some nightmare times with Oliver "Ollie" Twist but he came into my life at the right time and he left it only two years ago. In February this year, my husband and I rescued an 18-month-old female cat from the Cat Haven. She has a forever home with us now and we love her to bits. Her given name was Spearmint but we call her Minty Moo. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">5. I love London</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Don't ask me why, I just do. Whenever I go there, I feel my heart swelling with a deep pride to be British and I can't stop smiling. I love the Underground smells, I love the Embankment, I love the alleyways, the pubs, the lamps, the Thames, the architecture, the whole atmosphere. I walk taller when I'm in London. I watch anything if it is set in London. I read books that are set in London, especially in Victorian London.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">6. I love Historical Novels/Historical Crime</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I cannot get enough of them, especially ones that are set in England. I devour all books by these authors: Kate Morton, Sarah Waters, Essie Fox, D.E. Meredith, Charles Dickens (<3), Lynn Shepherd, Tracy Chevalier, Lena Kennedy and Ruth Park. I love reading all things Victorian Crime such as Squizzy Taylor, Eugenia Falleni, William Palmer and Constance Kent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">7. I love Supernatural </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Since its inception in 2005, I have been avidly following the trials and tribulations of those gorgeous hunks, the Winchester brothers, Dean and Sam. I can't get enough of the show and now that my daughter has become a fan, I get to watch the whole series from scratch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My blog nominations:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Broadland Memories Blog <a href="http://www.broadlandmemories.co.uk/blog">http://www.broadlandmemories.co.uk/blog</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Kindred Spirits <a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.com.au/">http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A Visitor's Guide to Victorian England <a href="http://visitvictorianengland.blogspot.co.uk/">http://visitvictorianengland.blogspot.co.uk</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Virtual Victorian <a href="http://virtualvictorian.blogspot.com/">http://virtualvictorian.blogspot.com</a> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The History Girls <a href="http://the-history-girls.blogspot.com/">http://the-history-girls.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Family History 4U <a href="http://sharnsgenealogyhints.blogspot.com.au/">http://sharnsgenealogyhints.blogspot.com.au</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Family History Across The Seas <a href="http://cassmob.wordpress.com/">http://cassmob.wordpress.com</a><br />Dance Skeletons <a href="http://danceskeletons.blogspot.com.au/">http://danceskeletons.blogspot.com.au</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Jottings Journeys and Genealogy <a href="http://judy-webster.blogspot.com.au/">http://judy-webster.blogspot.com.au</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Lone Tester HQ <a href="http://www.lonetester.com/">http://www.lonetester.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A Rebel Hand <a href="http://rebelhand.wordpress.com/">http://rebelhand.wordpress.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Adventures in Genealogy <a href="http://deb-adventuresingenealogy.blogspot.com/">http://deb-adventuresingenealogy.blogspot.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Stephanie Fishman <a href="http://www.stephaniefishman.com/blog">http://www.stephaniefishman.com/blog</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Desperately Seeking Surnames <a href="http://www.desperatelyseekingsurnames.com/">http://www.desperatelyseekingsurnames.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Jenealogy <a href="http://www.jenealogy.biz/blog">http://www.jenealogy.biz/blog</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://thesekindredspirits.blogspot.com.au/"></a><br /></span></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-66046059880479361312014-08-04T11:03:00.001+08:002014-08-04T11:03:52.453+08:00My Ancestors : Centenary of the Great War<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">August 4 marks the 100th year since Great Britain declared war on Germany. The 1914-1918 campaign would become known as The Great War. This blog post commemorates all of my ancestors who fought for "King and Country".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My great-grandfathers Arthur, Percy and Albert all fought in the Great War. Arthur was married with two young sons, the eldest of whom was my grandfather Herbert who was four years old when war broke out. Percy was married with one son, my grandfather Percy junior who was barely a year old. Albert was also married and had three children, a daughter and two sons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If Albert had not have survived the war, he would not have gone on to have seven more children with my great-grandmother, Elizabeth. My grandmother Lilian, born in 1920, would not have existed which meant she would not have married Percy junior and had my mother, Denise. In the words of my friend Brett, that is a sobering thought.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This blog post is to say "Thank You" to my great-grandfathers who fought in the war, who left their wives and their homes, their children, their jobs, their regular life. They went to the mud, the filth, the front lines, the rats and the lice, the uncertainty of their future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Thank You" also to my two cousins and my great grand-uncle; James, William and Sidney, who never came home. William and Sidney left behind their families and their widows. William had three children when he died of wounds in 1917. Sidney had been married just shy of two years.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat:</span> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, <br />A merciful putting away of what has been. <br /><br />And this we know: Death is not Life, effete, <br />Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen <br />So marvellous things know well the end not yet. <br /><br />Victor and vanquished are a-one in death: <br />Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say, <br />"Come, what was your record when you drew breath?" <br />But a big blot has hid each yesterday <br />So poor, so manifestly incomplete. <br />And your bright Promise, withered long and sped, <br />Is touched, stirs, rises, opens and grows sweet <br />And blossoms and is you, when you are dead.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Charles Hamilton Sorley (1895-1915)</b>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-58895511485363001902014-07-23T15:16:00.000+08:002014-07-23T15:16:01.277+08:00Hilda Bowes : An unexpected surprise<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must have dreamt that I wrote up and published this blog post because I certainly planned it awhile back, but it doesn't appear to be here. A chance search on ebay, in December last year, led me to a quaint Edwardian picture postcard which had been written to my cousin four times removed, Hilda Bowes. It was from a person by the name of Fred and it was stamped 13 August 1912.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The postcard was addressed to: </span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miss H Bowes</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Broad Street</span></i></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew that my three times great-grand uncle, George Bowes, lived in Broad Street so I put in a bid for the postcard. When I won it, I never expected it would lead to a second surprise.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8NcmsItkCsQDy4S9L0V_GnRS4veEE7Mheovk2mBadjgYtiBOixbgtuzocWsp7_yodMt48Q_UmcGExdkL7V_2SfgHYsQIY5ECPCwiV2z1mUmVeHIEFnEDT_mrcHvUwJrTvYUypMyIn-Y/s1600/BroadStreet2_Bungay1923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8NcmsItkCsQDy4S9L0V_GnRS4veEE7Mheovk2mBadjgYtiBOixbgtuzocWsp7_yodMt48Q_UmcGExdkL7V_2SfgHYsQIY5ECPCwiV2z1mUmVeHIEFnEDT_mrcHvUwJrTvYUypMyIn-Y/s1600/BroadStreet2_Bungay1923.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hilda Matilda Bowes was born in 1892 in Bungay. She was the daughter of George Bowes and his second wife, Mary Ann Margaret (nee Whurr). Mary Ann was the daughter of John Whurr and Eliza, nee Phillips. The Whurr family lived in Broad Street, Bungay all their lives, and when Mary Ann married widowed George Bowes in 1891, she continued to live in the same street. The census returns show that before she married George, who was a baker by trade, she was a Dressmaker. Mary Ann's life would have taken quite a different direction from dressmaking with her mother to baking with her husband. When she married George Bowes she was 40 years old.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When George Bowes died in March 1911, Hilda ran the family baker business in Broad Street with her mother. However, in 1920, Hilda married Allen Green. Allen was the son of Henry Green and Kate, nee Burgess. The Green family lived in Wingfield Street, Bungay. Allen was a printer compositor by trade, possibly at Clay & Sons Ltd of Bungay. The 1925 Kelly's Directory shows Hilda's mother, Mary Ann, was still trading as a baker at 48 Broad Street.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is not yet known if Hilda and Allen ever had any children. What is known is that Allen died only a few months after Hilda, in 1972. When Mary Ann died in April 1941, she left a sum of money to her only daughter Hilda in a will.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently I went to the Ancestry website to search for information regarding Hilda Bowes's ancestry, and to my surprise I found a photograph of her. I was so excited to finally see what she looked like. I was also quite surprised to find that she bore a striking resemblance to my great-grandmother Eva Waters, nee Bowes and Eva's sister Winnie Bowes. Eva and Winnie were Hilda's first cousins, once removed. Judge for yourselves. Personally, I think it's the nose. And the curve of the lips...and the eyes.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tAro34HCnjWweFThqrYHVKCKXs3Vv3PZkdURoBdxsLThYFlPsRXWn97u8xjQXA053rBthonq7ay1Q_Puxovb6QIuhNCA7DnEh9XCbvWTWz_Xl7JZzBVR0Ryw_a5khIZJTcdlVL4Kfss/s1600/WinnieBowes1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3tAro34HCnjWweFThqrYHVKCKXs3Vv3PZkdURoBdxsLThYFlPsRXWn97u8xjQXA053rBthonq7ay1Q_Puxovb6QIuhNCA7DnEh9XCbvWTWz_Xl7JZzBVR0Ryw_a5khIZJTcdlVL4Kfss/s1600/WinnieBowes1.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Winnie Bowes<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (1892-1948)</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For more information about my Bowes ancestry, see <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/p/bowes.html" target="_blank">here</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A blog post about Fred Bowes (brother of Eva and Winnie) <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/fred-bowes-of-beccles.html" target="_blank">here</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Photograph of Hilda Bowes: courtesy of Robert Alexander (Wangford, England). There is also a photograph of her husband Allen Green on the site also belonging to Robert Alexander</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Photograph of Eva and Winnie Bowes: My personal photo collection</span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-21573529507745900502014-05-29T13:26:00.001+08:002014-05-29T13:28:10.664+08:00Five Minutes With An Ancestor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I had five minutes with an ancestor, who would it be and what would we talk about?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is kind of unfair because there are so many. The list truly is endless.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just five minutes with my grandmother's <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/winifred-waters-1915-1996.html" target="_blank">Fr<span id="goog_2074435967"></span><span id="goog_2074435968"></span>eda</a> and <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/lilian-katie-humphries-abt-1940-i-have.html" target="_blank">Lilian</a> - just because I want to hug them, tell them how much I love them and miss them every single day, and to say I am sorry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From a purely family history perspective: </span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My great-grandmother Elizabeth Dare - to dispel some awkward family rumours and to confirm how many children she actually gave birth to.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My g/g-grandfather William Preston - to ask him the truth about why he was estranged from his father and his two brothers.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My great-grandmother Barbara Hargreaves - to ask her about her life as a Domestic Servant to a London physician and to ask her who Arthur Ward was.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 4 x great-grandmother Mary Ward - to ask her why she never married and yet she gave birth to six illegitimate children, three of whom died in infancy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 4 x great-grandfather <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/09/joseph-powell-1786-1857-thames-waterman.html" target="_blank">Joseph Powell</a> - to ask him all about his life as a Thames Waterman.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 4 x great-grandparents John Humphries and Ann Rogers - to ask them why they never married and to confirm where they were both born before they lived together in Hammersmith and raised a family.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, most of all, I would definitely ask my 3 x great-grandfather <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/10/elusive-ancestor-richard-humphries.html" target="_blank">Richard Humphries</a>:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where the heck did you disappear to after 1871? What really happened to your first wife Mary Ann and why did she die alone in a workhouse? Why did you "shack up" with Sarah Spencer, not marry her and yet have a family with her? She gave birth to a daughter in 1872, and then just four years later, she marries another man. Meanwhile, you've completely disappeared from the face of the earth. What happened to you Richard?</span></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-10977503900458275102014-05-09T11:20:00.001+08:002014-05-09T11:20:12.294+08:00The Sampson Family of Suffolk<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Following the interest and enthusiasm which my last two blog posts (<a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2014/03/the-alden-family.html" target="_blank">Alden</a> and <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2014/03/the-gilding-family.html" target="_blank">Gilding</a> families) brought to my step-family, I've since been asked to write up a family history. I am more than happy to do this for them as they have been a crucial part of my life for more than forty years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I am very tempted to write up the recently promised blog post on the Sampson family, I have now decided to <i>postpone</i> it for the time being. I don't want to give everything away, there will be nothing left to surprise my relatives with. Sorry :-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If there is anybody out there, reading this, who is related to the Sampson, Alden or Gilding families of Suffolk, please know that I would love to hear from you. Just leave a comment below with an email address and I will get back to you. If anybody knows anything and feels willing to share stories or photographs of the aforementioned families, I would be really pleased to hear from you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My step-grandfather was Alfred James Sampson, who was born in Mettingham in Suffolk. You can read more about my memories of him in my 2011 blog post <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/09/my-grandfathers.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Alfred was known to everyone as 'Buster' so if you don't recognise the name Alf or Alfred, you would have possibly have known him better by this nickname.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Sampson family lived in Mettingham, and previously the Sampson lineage came from Redisham, Stoven, St James, St Elmham all in Suffolk.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Alice <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and James Sampson c.1970</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Alf 'Buster' Sam<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">pson with his son and daughter-in-law</span></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBB9gJRArZ0dh9g91EDm6b6ipw0a6LjtIpf0_z_gu1TKlQYVzskwivRbkwPRPm_mjAQbd0VB3a1WCyFP_IvJrDoe-wxwPMcwjRyCYCBPDTfn8sIEEljjlt2HExRrqrC02s6CBLapJtGk/s1600/James+Sampson+Grave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBB9gJRArZ0dh9g91EDm6b6ipw0a6LjtIpf0_z_gu1TKlQYVzskwivRbkwPRPm_mjAQbd0VB3a1WCyFP_IvJrDoe-wxwPMcwjRyCYCBPDTfn8sIEEljjlt2HExRrqrC02s6CBLapJtGk/s1600/James+Sampson+Grave2.jpg" height="320" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Grave site in Mettingham, Suffolk<br />of James & Alice Sampson</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you in advance. I look forward to hearing from you.</span></div>
Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-59879168468064444562014-03-29T16:16:00.002+08:002014-03-29T20:50:02.478+08:00The Gilding Family<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last time I wrote about my step-grandfather's first wife, Jean <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2014/03/the-alden-family.html" target="_blank">Alden</a> and her family. Jean's mother was Mollie Joan Alden, daughter of Robert Alden and Emily Gilding. This blog post is dedicated to the Gilding family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emily Gilding was born in Bungay in 1871. She was one of eight* children. The census returns for that year were taken on the night of 2 April and Emily is listed as being two months old. Her parents, Jacob Gilding and Sarah Ann (nee Rogers) were then residing in Beccles Road, in Bungay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emily's father Jacob Gilding was a Wherryman/Waterman by trade, in the counties of Norfolk and North Suffolk - this being stated in the 1851, 1861 & 1871 census returns. By 1881, however, Jacob was a Railway Labourer, as part of the General Eastern Railway (G.E.R). Jacob and his wife and children were by that time residing in Beccles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jacob Gilding was born on 6 June 1838 in Smallburgh, county Norfolk. He was the son of Benjamin Langley Gilding and Mary, nee Cork. On 2 July 1838 Jacob was baptised at St Peter's Church, Smallburgh. In 1851 the Gilding family lived at Broad Fen in Dilham. Benjamin, Jacob's father was a Waterman by trade. I like to imagine him rowing his way through the Norfolk Broads on an early Spring day, chewing on a piece of reed.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Picking Water Lillies<br />http://www.theslideprojector.com/</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jacob left the county of Norfolk some time before 1860 and took up residence in Bungay, county Suffolk. Jacob married Sarah Ann Rogers, daughter of William Rogers, at Bungay Holy Trinity Church on 3 April 1860. Both signed the marriage register with an "X". The Rogers family were from Loddon, county Norfolk. William Rogers' first wife Mary Ann (nee Harris), Sarah Ann's biological mother, died in 1845 and William later married Amy Harris in 1849. Any relation?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jacob and Sarah Ann's first child, George, was born in August 1860 but he did not thrive, and died on 3 September 1860. His burial service was held at Bungay Holy Trinity Church. Jacob and Sarah had only been married for five months. They went on to have eight more children:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frederick George Gilding</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">George Rogers Gilding</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Benjamin Gilding</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry Gilding</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Emily Gilding</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ernest William Gilding</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ellen Mary Gilding</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Anne Gilding</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They remained in Bungay until some time before 1881 when they moved with their children to Beccles: Emily, aged 10. Ernest William, aged 8. Ellen Mary, aged 6 and Anne, aged 5. What I find especially intriguing about the 1881 census return for the Gilding family is two-fold: 1) Jacob and Sarah Ann's sons George, then aged 16 and Benjamin, then aged 14, were "Inmates" (Students) at a Boys Reformatory School in Thorndon All Saints (near Eye); and 2) Jacob and Sarah Ann have an extra <b><i>adopted</i></b> child: Jeremiah Sturman, aged 1.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon further investigation, Jeremiah Sturman was born in Skelton in North Riding, county Yorkshire. He was the illegitimate son of Rebekah Sturman, a Domestic Servant. What I found to be even more intriguing was that the 1891 census return puts Jeremiah back with his mother Rebekah (along with a half-brother Harry and another Jeremiah Sturman aged 87) but this time they are all Inmates of the Loddon and Clavering Union Workhouse, in county Norfolk. This begs the question: What happened to the Sturman family and why did the Gilding family have temporary care of Jeremiah?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 1901 census return has Jacob and Sarah Ann Gilding living at Knights Yard, Ravensmere with a grandson, Walter Belward Gilding. Walter was then aged 12, born to one of Jacob and Sarah Ann's children but which one? (Walter was living with the family in 1891 as well, when they resided at Northgate Street). He remained with his grandparents even in 1911, when he was aged 22. I don't believe he ever married. Another grandson appears on the 1911 census with Jacob and Sarah Ann: Ernest Alden, aged 18 (He was Mollie Joan Alden's eldest brother). What is interesting to note is that the 1911 census states Jacob and Sarah Ann had eight children, seven living and one who had died. But I know that they had at least nine children because I found George Gilding who was baptised and died in 1860, in Bungay. Why did they claim they had eight children instead of nine?</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jacob Alden, 1911 census return<br />(click on image to enlarge)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jacob Gilding died in 1914, aged 75. Sarah Ann Gilding died in 1930, aged 94. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My next blog post will concentrate on my step-grandfather's SAMPSON family heritage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>ADDENDUM</b></u></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The British Newspaper Archive brings up several previously unknown articles in regards to Jacob Gilding who was frequently brought up before the Beccles Petty Sessions in the 1880s because he repeatedly refused to pay the ordered one shilling per week in payment of his son at Thorndon Reformatory School. For example: The Ipswich Journal of Tuesday 25 January 1881 reported that Jacob Richard Gilding was "causing much trouble" from neglecting to make payments for his sons and was "22 weeks in arrears". Jacob's wages as a Railway Labourer at that time was stated in the paper as being 18 shillings 6 pence per week and that he had "five other children to provide for".<u><b> </b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(In July 1879 The Ipswich Journal reported that brothers George Gilding and Benjamin were caught stealing fruit from a garden in Ravensmere, the property of Edward Masters. This was the reason they were sent to Reformatory School. They had previous convictions of stealing at Gillingham.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In January 1885 Jacob Gilding was fined five shillings for neglecting to send his daughter Ellen Gilding, regularly to school</span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-66985174610157973152014-03-16T15:10:00.002+08:002014-03-16T15:20:28.899+08:00The Alden Family<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As much as it shames me to confess this, I really haven't given much conscious thought to my step-family's ancestry. My grandmother Lilian married Alfred James Sampson (who I knew as my Grandad Buster when I was a child). I knew that Lilian was a widow when she married Alfred and I also knew that Alfred was a widower.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When Lil and Alf married my relations increased from three aunts and uncles to eight aunts and uncles. Until much more recently I hadn't paid attention to the fact that my Grandad Buster's first wife Jean - the mother of my step-family - had her very own family story too. Better late than never, I am now working hard to rectify my oversight.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwBPnJ7Qt3YnEUnNiFNiNAMyDsLNfWVVV3qCUfKeJHdY9PPS4DF15Y82GN3Br_l2asCXWnO6dT323VsOZoWsqRkVFXVgjLweQzgSxJYZmyk7Fpk_zs-gkbs_FwImO4IUAEjaCJuXV34s/s1600/JeanAlden-FamilyNorthgateStBeccles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEwBPnJ7Qt3YnEUnNiFNiNAMyDsLNfWVVV3qCUfKeJHdY9PPS4DF15Y82GN3Br_l2asCXWnO6dT323VsOZoWsqRkVFXVgjLweQzgSxJYZmyk7Fpk_zs-gkbs_FwImO4IUAEjaCJuXV34s/s1600/JeanAlden-FamilyNorthgateStBeccles.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Jean Sampson (nee Alden) with her niece & nephews<br />in Beccles, around 1950</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jean Nora Alden was born in 1929, the illegitimate daughter of Mollie Alden. In 1948 Jean married Alfred Sampson and they had five children (my step-aunts and uncles). The family were dealt a cruel blow when Jean died of cancer in 1964. She was only 34 years old.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mollie Joan Alden, Jean's mother, was born in Beccles in 1910. She was the second youngest of fourteen children born to Robert Alden and Emily, nee Gilding. Robert and Emily were married at Saint Michael's Church, Beccles on 28 April 1892.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 1911 census states that Robert Alden was a Brick Layer by trade, which caught my attention as my Grandad Buster (Alf Sampson) was also a Brick Layer. The 1891 and 1901 census returns show Robert as a Maltsters Labourer. Interestingly, Robert and Emily's childrens names were written on the 1911 census form rather haphazardly which made double-checking them against the GRO Birth Index challenging. They were as follows:</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ernest Leonard Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Annie Norah Alden (known as Norah/Nora)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ellen Catherine Alden (known as Nellie)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emily Hilda Alden (known as Hilda)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robert Benjamin Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harry Edward Alden (known as Edward)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frederick George Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Agnes Mercy Alden (known as Mercy)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Florrence Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nancy Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ivy Elizabeth Alden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Mollie Joan Alden</b></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frank Stanley Alden (was born in 1912)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There was also a 'Female' Alden born (possibly stillborn) and died in 1894</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robert English Alden was born in 1872, some records state Beccles as his birthplace and others say Bungay. He was the son of James Alden and Mary Ann, nee English. James Alden was previously married to Elizabeth Aldred (m. 1845) who died in 1859. James and Mary Ann English were married at Saint Michael's Church, Beccles on 6 August 1871. Both signed their names with an "X".</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Robert Alden (right)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">James Alden was born in 1818 in Ringsfield. He was an Agricultural Labourer by trade and lived for most of his life in Ingate Road, Beccles. He also lived in Puddingmoor and Hungate Lane, both in Beccles. James died in 1897, aged 79. After his death James's wife Mary Ann made her living as a Charwoman and in 1901 was living in Ingate Road with two of her daughters. In 1911 the census returns show her working as a Housekeeper for the Ashley family of Newgate Street, Beccles. It is believed that she died in 1914 in the county of Essex.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My next blog will concentrate on Emily Gilding and her ancestry (the mother of Mollie Joan Alden). </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mollie Alden's father Robert died in 1950, aged 78 and her mother Emily died in 1929, aged 57. </span>Mollie married in 1941 to Samuel Barley, known as Toby. She died in 1987. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I must acknowledge and thank S. Howlett for sharing the photographs you see on this blog post, via the Ancestry website.</span></b></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-13483564848329958832014-01-19T16:29:00.001+08:002014-01-20T11:40:31.827+08:00It's All in the Numbers Geneameme<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not wanting to miss out on a genealogy-based blog challenge I decided to make my first blog post of 2014 about Alona Tester's <a href="http://www.lonetester.com/2013/12/its-all-in-the-numbers-geneameme/" target="_blank">geneameme.</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have many significant numbers in my family history but here are just ten to stir my memory and genealogy juices and share what these special numbers mean to me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmFOQfSr2QU4FSXHktImmtWV2TN6Qf9JRwHvatdHvf02agiSjY8rIt0McwidL1tofTJy3VK_JHJiIy_zJCqOIlc9oXLpsmV-AsntHhRAFMvXgJ1zyj9N4Utp3GBAEez7xrC8buX6vK3s/s1600/number1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivmFOQfSr2QU4FSXHktImmtWV2TN6Qf9JRwHvatdHvf02agiSjY8rIt0McwidL1tofTJy3VK_JHJiIy_zJCqOIlc9oXLpsmV-AsntHhRAFMvXgJ1zyj9N4Utp3GBAEez7xrC8buX6vK3s/s1600/number1.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>One</b> - I am an only child (born of my mother and father before their divorce). My cousin is also an only child of her mother and father. Both my cousin and myself have only had one daughter. Whilst my cousin and I have what you would call "step-siblings" (though we loathe the term), her daughter and mine are definitely the only child.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Me with my babysitter & family<br />friend, outside our cottage<br />in Beccles, Suffolk</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Three</b> - The number of the cottage I lived in with my mother during the 1970s, in Beccles Suffolk. This cottage was so very significant in my childhood, it inspired me to include it in my novella <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Symphony-War-Debra-Watkins-ebook/dp/B00H9E8PAC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387523369&sr=8-1&keywords=debra+watkins" target="_blank">Symphony of War</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Four</b> - The number of sons my paternal grandparents had, including my dearest Dad. The eldest has since passed away ten years ago but the other three are still going strong. Four is also my lucky number. My 2xg/grandfather William and I were born on the same day (4th February), he in 1847 and me over one hundred years later!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Ten</b> - This is the
number of generations I have gone back to in my Preston ancestry. I am
yet to confirm the eleventh ancestor but work is still underway. I have
written two family history editions of <b>Preston Origins</b>, the second edition copies are currently held in both the Norfolk and Suffolk (Lowestoft) Record Offices.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Thirteen</b> - The number of children in my 3xg/grandparents Josiah and Susan's family, including my 2xg/grandfather William who was the last born child. His eldest sister Maria was at least twenty years older than him. Thirteen is also a lucky number for my father. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Nineteen</b> - This number recurs in my family tree, especially this very date in particular: January 19th. My 2xg/grandfather William was born on this day in 1853. My first cousin twice removed William was born on this day in 1890. My 3xg/grandparents Josiah and Susan married on this day in 1829. My 3xg/grandfather William died on this day in 1887. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 2xg/grandmother Jane died on this day in 1893. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Twenty Seven</b> - This number recurs with my great-grandfather Albert who was married on the 27th and died on the 27th. Also my uncle (Albert's grandson) was born on the 27th. My 2xg/grand uncle was born on the 27th. Two of my 3xg/grand-uncles died and were buried on the 27th, both as a result of Cholera. I was baptised on the 27th.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fulham, High Street. My ancestors lived at no.42.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Forty Two</b> - This was the number of the Fulham High Street house which my 4xg/grandparents Joseph and Elizabeth lived in for many years during the early 1800s until my 3xg/grandparents William and Louisa continued to live there after Louisa's parents deaths. My 2xg/grandparents Richard and Louisa are also listed on the 1871 census as residing there with three of their children. Forty Two was also the number of the house I lived in with my current husband and where we lived when our daughter was conceived. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Fifty Eight</b> - This number is special because this is the number of the boarding house which my great-grandmother Nellie ran in Bungay, Suffolk during the 1940s & 1950s. It holds very many happy memories for my mother who was born in the house and lived there from around the age of twelve until she left school to work full-time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Ninety Four</b> - This number is the age of my oldest surviving ancestor's age at death. Two others come very close at 92 and 93 but my 4xg/grandfather Zachariah was the winner! He was baptised in January 1777 and died in April 1871, in Beccles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A belated "Happy New Year" to all my followers and thanks to Alona for the blog post idea.</span></div>
Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-40618856297433242522013-12-23T13:51:00.000+08:002013-12-23T13:52:49.561+08:00Festive Greetings To One And All<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I make preparations for my upcoming trip to Melbourne for Christmas with my family, I am taking a moment out of the "headless chook" routine to reflect on the year that has been 2013.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has definitely been a year of transition for both myself and my husband, both of us making inroads in our chosen career paths and paving the way to achieving what we truly want. My passions have laid in genealogy and family history for over ten years now and it has brought me so much satisfaction. Not only have I learnt about how my ancestors would have lived and worked but I have made many living friends and found distant cousins along the way, for which I am blessed and grateful.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the start of 2013 I made the same old New Year resolutions. The longest running resolution had to be the one about starting work on my heritage scrapbook. I have made that resolution every single year since my daughter was born and now that she has recently turned twelve, I can finally say that this was the year that I achieved my goal. It took me around two months from start to finish and the end result was a fabulous piece of family history which I am quite proud of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The biggest and best achievement I made in 2013 would have to be e-publishing my debut novella <i><b>Symphony of War</b></i>. This novella has been five years in the making, and is quite a massive personal achievement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have spent those five years re-writing, shelving, re-writing, shelving (and almost binning) but for the past three to four months I have stuck to my guns and finally finished it. I had many hurdles to overcome, the biggest of which was my self-confidence. Even when I knew in my heart of hearts that I had to finish the novella I was still unsure of "putting it out there" and publishing it for all the world to see. After I participated in this year's National November Writer's Month (or NaNoWriMo as it commonly known) I bit the bullet, took the plunge and uploaded <i><b>Symphony of War</b></i> on to Amazon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you are interested, you can find my ebook here:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Symphony-War-Debra-Watkins-ebook/dp/B00H9E8PAC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387523369&sr=8-1&keywords=debra+watkins" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://www.amazon.co.uk/Symphony-War-Debra-Watkins-ebook/dp/B00H9E8PAC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387523369&sr=8-1&keywords=debra+watkins</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What will 2014 bring? I have written over 50,000 words for my next novel, and I am sure it will take much less time to refine, re-write and polish than my debut did! Also, I have plans to write a family history on my Humphries family line. This should prove especially interesting to research for as the family lived and worked in my favourite city in the world, London.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, Debra xx</span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-74310552362560117812013-11-10T16:06:00.000+08:002014-08-05T12:45:21.228+08:00Ode To Remembrance<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the time of year when I reflect on the year that has passed, my achievements and my mistakes, my ups and my downs. I think about the new year ahead, and what may come to pass. Every November though, I stop and think primarily of my ancestors who fought in the Great War.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year I wrote a blog post called </span><a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2012/11/we-will-remember-them-lest-we-forget.html" target="_blank">We Will Remember Them: Lest We Forget</a> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as well as various war-based blog posts on my ancestors and Remembrance Day 2011. As I prepare to take the train and bus journey to Kings Park to witness the Remembrance Day service this coming Monday morning, I will have the war years firmly at the forefront of my mind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a great and deep respect for all of my ancestors who fought in the wars, from the Boer War; the Great War; World War Two; and my cousin Jim who has valiantly served in several peace-keeping engagements in more recent times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I want to take this opportunity to say a sincere and heartfelt THANK YOU to every man and woman all over the world, what ever your country of origin, who fought in all wars, and for my grandfathers' Percy and Herbert; my great-grandfather Albert (who almost died in 1914 after a u-boat sank his ship off the North Sea) and my great-grandfather Arthur who fought in the Boer War and the Great War; and to all of my great-uncle's who served in the Army, Navy and Air Force, and my three distant cousins Sidney, William and James who were taken from this world during the Great War, who died so young.</span></div>
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<dl style="text-align: center;"><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><b>ODE TO REMEMBRANCE</b> </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They went with songs to the battle, they were young.</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They fell with their faces to the foe.</i></span></dd></dl>
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<dl style="text-align: center;"><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>At the going down of the sun and in the morning,</i></span></dd><dd><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>We will remember them.</i></span></dd></dl>
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<dl><dd style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;</i></span></dd><dd style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They sit no more at familiar tables of home;</i></span></dd><dd style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;</i></span></dd><dd style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>They sleep beyond England's foam.</i></span></dd><dd style="text-align: center;"></dd><dd style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>Lest We Forget </i></span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HE4QQIAGn4yMa66NNP6eBULFuAcOUmb0nHRPf7BQulnHKM5asHqVbw9eG_IL4FRyCMA7jEmdZZfznUUjaqpaCxA42RnZEGtoBE8I23586cEafuADWaxjguttTij3QNvbwu-vtKs-niE/s1600/Remembrance+Day+Ad+-+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2HE4QQIAGn4yMa66NNP6eBULFuAcOUmb0nHRPf7BQulnHKM5asHqVbw9eG_IL4FRyCMA7jEmdZZfznUUjaqpaCxA42RnZEGtoBE8I23586cEafuADWaxjguttTij3QNvbwu-vtKs-niE/s400/Remembrance+Day+Ad+-+2013.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-1861874434095250792013-09-17T13:45:00.000+08:002013-09-17T13:47:48.142+08:00Dedicated to Trevor<div style="text-align: justify;">
On Sunday I enjoyed a lovely afternoon with my dear Mum, and while we sat eating cakes and drinking coffee she handed me a pile of old notebooks. When I looked closer, I saw that my name was written on the covers. They were my old school books, both from England and from Australia, and she had kept them all these years.</div>
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Some had been damaged over time while in storage but most were thankfully salvaged. What a complete joy it was to sit with my Mum and my husband and daughter, sharing a hearty laugh over my handwriting, my spelling test results, teachers comments and especially my drawings and doodles. There were projects on Japan and Holland and reflective writing exercises about my holiays, along with many coloured-in pictures. How strange it felt to sit down and read those when my daughter has been doing the exact same thing at school, writing reflective pieces and drawing pictures to complement the story.</div>
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One such story which struck a chord with me was the one I wrote, titled:</div>
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<u>My Two Days Holiday</u></div>
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<i>On Thursday I went to my friends house for a little while. Then I went home with Mummy and Norman. I stayed up until 10 o'clock because I watched The Six Million Dollar Woman. And then I went to bed and read and wrote some letters until 10 to 10.</i></div>
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<i>On Friday I went to work like I did Thursday morning and took my teaset and my doll and I played with my friend Trevor. He was Daddy and I was Mummy and my doll was baby. We played in the ballroom where ladies and gentlemen go in there for meetings and so on. </i></div>
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<i>When it was home time which is 12 o'clock Trevor and Mummy and me went home. When we got home we all had some dinner at 1 o'clock. Then we went outside playing with Josie our dog. Then at half past 3 we took Trevor back to the Kings Head and then did some shopping. Then we went home and had some tea. Then Grandad and we watched Gambit at 7 o'clock and had a cup of tea. Then Grandad went and I stayed up until half past 8.</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZGKxItvQMgVUKZQZuuO2NaxM5xtN9-ogNJzaUJJmp1xuqH-YS00agGtKAt3sgPpsmE3D4nMq20_ODWvyQ6fBwRMTop9PXfRFCQFI87FWfvYmyLZEM1RO8qJY3yg-3z5uUc0lCCnVp58/s1600/Debra_TrevorRackham2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZGKxItvQMgVUKZQZuuO2NaxM5xtN9-ogNJzaUJJmp1xuqH-YS00agGtKAt3sgPpsmE3D4nMq20_ODWvyQ6fBwRMTop9PXfRFCQFI87FWfvYmyLZEM1RO8qJY3yg-3z5uUc0lCCnVp58/s320/Debra_TrevorRackham2.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Trevor and me</span></td></tr>
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Trevor's life was tragically and painfully cut short when he became terminally ill in his late teens. Before he reached his twenty-third birthday he had passed away. I went to visit him shortly before he died, and we had some laughs together about the "old days" when we played at the Kings Head Hotel in Beccles (Trevor's Mum and my Mum both worked there as chambermaids and that was how Trevor and I became friends). We used to fight like mad some days and he followed me around a lot which used to irritate me, especially if I just wanted to go off wandering around by myself. I never would have imagined in my wildest dreams that my childhood friend's life would be cut short in such terrible circumstances.</div>
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I have written a novella which I have dedicated to my childhood friend Trevor and he also makes a very special posthumous cameo appearance as one of my characters.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtMN8dKDd-Qyo8pDeGDchw4lGNqOl1r1dV0_768HSxpCP6l8wDgnOAMFBwyMdNy9yMVJhCg3DJje94RobfCH8vfnhNqdgN_jLel8ihRbNI6EspqM3R9A7FDao8cCf3xieQXpy5mXI_y8/s1600/TrevorRackham1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYtMN8dKDd-Qyo8pDeGDchw4lGNqOl1r1dV0_768HSxpCP6l8wDgnOAMFBwyMdNy9yMVJhCg3DJje94RobfCH8vfnhNqdgN_jLel8ihRbNI6EspqM3R9A7FDao8cCf3xieQXpy5mXI_y8/s320/TrevorRackham1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Trevor with his beloved dog</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_pe_5bTvdoZTKLByPwXwTmAZOEK_YJnpZNfKM1cq7wWz_cfr2_I68wgGiIBsdqiHb_cAOYyn3TTeeK2Y6K3wwaAyenC_5dR7KsXnp3OSZW9cXDrdrXMePdRNmsy0ErKCAa5YLcpEldc/s1600/TrevorRackham_Grave2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho_pe_5bTvdoZTKLByPwXwTmAZOEK_YJnpZNfKM1cq7wWz_cfr2_I68wgGiIBsdqiHb_cAOYyn3TTeeK2Y6K3wwaAyenC_5dR7KsXnp3OSZW9cXDrdrXMePdRNmsy0ErKCAa5YLcpEldc/s320/TrevorRackham_Grave2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Trevor's grave, 1993</span></td></tr>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-38855106763923555142013-08-21T11:02:00.001+08:002013-08-21T11:02:48.803+08:00My Nannie and Blogiversary <div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today marks 30 years since my Nannie 'Buster' passed away. I was just 16 years old when she left us and today I feel as though I am 16 years old again. My heart is full to bursting, just thinking about her and how much I still miss having her in my life, physically speaking. I know and trust that she is with me spiritually because I sense her presence frequently, especially when I feel I am at a crossroads or when I am facing overwhelming emotions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have found out a lot more about my Nannie Lilian (read my blog post about her <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2011/08/lilian-katie-humphries-abt-1940-i-have.html" target="_blank">here</a>)</span> since I became an ardent genealogist and family historian. Things she never spoke about or rarely spoke about, like her parents' lives. I have visited the house, where she was born in 1920, with my husband and daughter and I have researched her ancestry back to the early 1800s when her 2 x great-grandparents John and Ann allegedly left county Somerset to live in the "big smoke" of London. I've made several wonderful connections with Humphries descendents and have been blessed to share documents and precious photographs.</div>
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Yesterday also marked my blogiversary. I have been writing posts on this blog for 2 years now and I am so pleased that I found the courage to write about my family and share some of the great wealth of information that I've accumulated and collected over the past 20 years plus of my life. Both of my grandmothers left me a treasure trove of family photographs, as well as their personal stories and an enormous respect for my heritage.</div>
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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/AVvXsEiQjVlS03_u7kbOjekREK3cGELUXgH9iYA7iky7XDViL3Ew96NBAarIAmNWI4th9gVzoN3jffLUEUViiYIuwDgU9IWsRp0JH_DwfAsZ9jIVjmGN-p41ZbYIwXxWqDnWZZ9nA_zxCegM6gc/s1600/Lilian5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQjVlS03_u7kbOjekREK3cGELUXgH9iYA7iky7XDViL3Ew96NBAarIAmNWI4th9gVzoN3jffLUEUViiYIuwDgU9IWsRp0JH_DwfAsZ9jIVjmGN-p41ZbYIwXxWqDnWZZ9nA_zxCegM6gc/s320/Lilian5.jpg" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Lilian, taken around 1955</span></td></tr>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-58563014393690142892013-07-26T13:31:00.000+08:002013-07-26T19:06:06.599+08:00Family Letters and Strange Dreams<div style="text-align: justify;">
Last night I had some very strange dreams, from leaving my daughter in the middle of the busy city to catch a train home on her own to finding letters that were written by my paternal grandmother. I just knew that I had to blog about the latter.</div>
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Freda wrote to me frequently when I left England in 1978 to live in Australia with my mother. She always wrote at least one page, even when she was in hospital (which was often) and she sent cards to my mother and I every year, without fail. I wish I had kept more of her letters to me but over time I threw many of them out (my way of downsizing during my frequent moves from house to house in my twenties). It was only the last letters that she wrote me, before her eyesight failed her completely, that I had the good sense to keep. What a relief, I did something right then.</div>
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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/AVvXsEhhhazQyrcONkoOrMOzpP_mOaNrRpoUCX_irP-S2v_0biZmMTA5nqdkUHXqgWqb9-epnH5AkmPdU__KNjNF4dr5lqIyBstiDjXnAwKqSvb2SYA0Yu5mPc0exBnBjJ6DPG6c-8AmJJaFBPI/s1600/Freda_Letters1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhazQyrcONkoOrMOzpP_mOaNrRpoUCX_irP-S2v_0biZmMTA5nqdkUHXqgWqb9-epnH5AkmPdU__KNjNF4dr5lqIyBstiDjXnAwKqSvb2SYA0Yu5mPc0exBnBjJ6DPG6c-8AmJJaFBPI/s320/Freda_Letters1.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My letters from Freda (1990-1993)</span></td></tr>
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When my great-aunt Joan passed away in 2005, her son Terry sent me some letters and cards, written by my grandmother Freda to Joan and my great-uncle Billy, which he found amongst his mother's personal effects.</div>
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When I woke up from my dream this morning I had a strong sense that Freda was trying to communicate something to me. In the dream I opened a drawer and took out some papers. Among the handful of papers were letters and I immediately recognised the handwriting as my grandmother's and started to cry. My tears were of happiness and relief that I had found her letters but sadness as well because I really miss her. One of the letters I held in my hand was typed and was dated 1933. It talked of all sorts of historical facts about pre-war threats and her feelings on the subject. I folded it up and made a mental note to read it in greater detail later. The second letter is more vague in my waking memory but it was definitely her handwriting and on seeing it, I burst into tears. Then I woke up.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_T-COuj1_FvvJTRuCvRBymWFrRl_Q6ORmrjgKvEas_Xy3HZdYZxuW7ZnGARROKshSDol9EKWvdEqrg1nTzdQtl97rA19OG9B5oDV5Tu5Wo4pb11kYfjvl2iGuZH2rIFuYAVt3QcZ6MI/s1600/Freda1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_T-COuj1_FvvJTRuCvRBymWFrRl_Q6ORmrjgKvEas_Xy3HZdYZxuW7ZnGARROKshSDol9EKWvdEqrg1nTzdQtl97rA19OG9B5oDV5Tu5Wo4pb11kYfjvl2iGuZH2rIFuYAVt3QcZ6MI/s320/Freda1.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Freda, about 1933</span></td></tr>
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Here is a transcript from a letter that my grandmother Freda wrote to my great-aunt Joan in 1961. My cousin Robert was a newborn and she was writing to send her congratulations:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Dear Joan & Billy,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Many Congratulations on the birth of your little Son. I am so glad it all went off well & that you are both well.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>I am writing to your home address Joan, as I don't know how long you stay in Hospital. I bet you felt important being waited on, its nice for a change, but I expect you're like me you rather be up & about.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Julian [my cousin, who was eighteen at the time] seemed quite pleased to tell the news to everyone, you'll have plenty to think about now.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>I'm sorry I haven't written before, but time flies & I haven't been too well with my legs, when it comes to tea-time I can't do another thing.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>We shall look forward to seeing him now.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Love from us all,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Freda</i></span></div>
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On the subject of family letters, I also have a letter that was written to my great-aunt Muriel from my great-uncle Billy in 1941. Muriel's first husband died suddenly, aged 31, and the news was devastating to the say the least (They had only been married four years and they had no children).</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dear Muriel,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Very sorry to hear bad news received from Joan by telegram: it does seem so cruel after you being so very happy with Jack but I suppose God has a time for us all.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Well Muriel I will never forget the happy evenings we three had at No. 15 and I'm sure wherever Jack is he will never forget either. Now Muriel old girl if there is anything I can do for you anytime, don't be afraid to ask. Myself & Joan will willingly do anything, anytime. You don't forget that cause I mean it....If you feel like taking little Terry out on your own, Joan would only be too pleased. I know you like children & little Terry so don't be afraid to say so. (Now can you keep a secret Muriel, don't say anything to anybody, not a word. Don't even let Joan know. Promise? Well we are expecting an extra in the family. Sometime next June [1942, which would have been Julian]. Now promise not to breath a word...</span></i></div>
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I love his closing salutation:</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yours for always,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Your loving brother, </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Billy</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">xxxxxx</span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0GfjbF1G5ocJf-hBWdKd4VJGIbgNkUBnW337aCzmgnL2A5kOdzQCb1d4gZAxi-gCsYGWM7QM1F0gN1ghn41XCvSOls0rYYUC-z5UH5PyNLsmtEReRGuV27iG1Y2iTOGuJQdSGRYctnc/s1600/Muriel_BillyWaters2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0GfjbF1G5ocJf-hBWdKd4VJGIbgNkUBnW337aCzmgnL2A5kOdzQCb1d4gZAxi-gCsYGWM7QM1F0gN1ghn41XCvSOls0rYYUC-z5UH5PyNLsmtEReRGuV27iG1Y2iTOGuJQdSGRYctnc/s320/Muriel_BillyWaters2.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brother and Sister: Billy & Muriel</span>, 1935</td></tr>
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I can't begin to express just how much I truly miss Freda. She was such a lovely woman and a fabulous grandmother to me and my sisters.</div>
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<br />Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-12251368239272186732013-07-08T15:03:00.003+08:002013-07-08T15:05:40.074+08:00William Sibley : In the wrong place at the wrong time?<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My 3xgreat-grandfather William Sibley (1826-1889) was charged, and later acquitted, in 1860 for conspiring to steal from the publican Thomas Rule of the Coopers' Arms public-house in Putney. When I discovered his name in the Police Intelligence section of <i>The Morning Post</i></span> (at <a href="http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/" target="_blank">British Newspaper Archive</a>), I was initially shocked. As I read on, however, I found out that William Sibley was innocent. What follows is an extract from the aforementioned newspaper, dated 30 January 1861:</div>
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William Carlton, who described himself as a photographer, and William Sibley, a wheelwright, were placed in the dock before Mr Ingham, charged with being concerned with stealing <span class="st">£5 from the Coopers' Arms public-house in Putney, the property of the landlord Mr Thomas Rule.</span></div>
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<span class="st">The robbery was committed on the 11th of December 1860 and the money, consisting of gold, silver, and halfpence was taken from the bureau in Rule's bedroom. The bureau was locked but not the bedroom. William Sibley was in the house during the said afternoon and was in and out several times and in different parts of the premises. He had a cart at the back door and he went out two or three times to examine it. William Carlton was at the bar with another man, and they had some gin-and-water at the bar. They appeared very fidgety, for they kept going out and returning alternately, and they both left without drinking their gin-and-water. It further appeared that Sibley lived in Putney [in 1861 census he lived at Stratford Grove] and Carlton formerly carried on his photography business opposite to the Coopers' Arms.</span></div>
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<span class="st">My 3xgreat-grandfather denied all knowledge of the robbery, and explained the reason for the cart being at the back of the public-house. He had it to repair and was waiting for assistance to drag it home. Thomas Rule claimed that Sibley had been in his bedroom before, to do repairs to a set of drawers but that he and his daughter [Caroline Rule] were unable to say whether Sibley and Carlton had actually communicated with one another on the day in question.</span></div>
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<span class="st">Mr Ingham refused to allow bail for Sibley, despite Sergeant Blanchard knowing nothing against Sibley before. The evidence of the witness [who was not named during the trial] was that he had evidence that Sibley had known about the robbery one week before it occured.</span></div>
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<span class="st">According to the Criminal Registers on Ancestry, William Sibley and William Carlton were acquitted at Newington on 18 February 1861.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIrF1ben147kQsYNhmXrpkOSbRnwwCC6kfC2nQN0o3sNZDfIaT3jZzYVkMJX7qIOShDviVoRCF5xfQSm-ZOBwNu7JpERk_IGav53MM0NhSiFNQfLkxrM2Qf6WHokklhPhpo1TS0GIHcE/s1600/CoopersArmsPutney1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvIrF1ben147kQsYNhmXrpkOSbRnwwCC6kfC2nQN0o3sNZDfIaT3jZzYVkMJX7qIOShDviVoRCF5xfQSm-ZOBwNu7JpERk_IGav53MM0NhSiFNQfLkxrM2Qf6WHokklhPhpo1TS0GIHcE/s320/CoopersArmsPutney1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Coopers' Arms public-house, Putney circa 1905</span></td></tr>
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<span class="st">The Coopers' Arms public-house gave its name to Coopers' Arms Lane, which was later renamed Lacy Road. Coopers' Arms Lane was formerly known as Warpell-Way, <i>warp</i> meaning "distinct pieces of ploughed land seperated by the furrows". A thoroughfare in Putney partly preserves the ancient nomenaclature in <i>Warpole Road</i>. The Putney High Street was largely unchanged until Edwardian times when the pub and cottages alongside were demolished and replaced by Edwardian shops. These were removed in the 1980s to make way for the Putney Exchange shopping centre.</span><br />
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<span class="st"><i>Sources used for this blog post: British Newspaper Archive & Ancestry</i></span><br />
<span class="st"><i>Putney & Roehampton by Patrick Loobey</i></span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-62328580795444992912013-05-11T14:21:00.000+08:002013-05-12T17:49:10.226+08:00For My Mum<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tomorrow is a special day on the Australian calendar for it marks the celebration we know as Mother's Day. I get to take part in this special opportunity to be thankful for my Mum by being on the receiving end as well as the giving end. As my mother is currently not in the same state of Australia as I am, I won't be able to have her over for a luncheon and shower her with cups of tea, home-made cakes and nostalgic anecdotes of gratitude. A blog post will have to suffice this time around, sorry Mum.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have long been thankful to my Mum for being there for me. Now that I am a mature (cough) adult and I have a daughter of my own, I have grown to really appreciate what she went through in life. She really was a trooper and she did it tough for many years as a single mother, especially when we were living in England. What a blessing it was that she took the plunge and decided all those years ago to emigrate to Australia - the land of opportunity for many. She got stuck in almost immediately and wasn't afraid to grab the bull by the horns. She got a job within weeks of landing in Perth, and quickly found herself a place to live. She got her driver's licence and bought herself a white Ford Escort. Remember Betsy, Mum? Or was it "The Little White Chicken"? :-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, my appreciation for my mother really hit home this past week. Over the past five weeks the SBS television network aired the five-part BBC series <b><i>"Turn Back Time: The Family"</i></b>. This series charts the evolution of the family, as one of Britain's most important institutions. Blending living history with genealogy, <i>"Turn Back Time"</i> explores what it means to be a mother, father and child in British society today and historically. Three modern day families (The Meadows; The Taylors; The Goldings) return to the 1900s and through five pivotal eras of family life:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode One : The Edwardian Era</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode Two: The Inter-War Years</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode Three: The 1940s</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode Four: The 1960s</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Episode Five: The 1970s</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Turn Back Time : The Family<br />www.sbs.com.au</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What made the last episode most special to me personally was that I was a child of the 1970s and my mother was the parent. She was a single mother who had to work two jobs just to keep us afloat. She made most of our clothes (on her trusty Singer sewing machine) because she couldn't afford new, and our jumpers were usually made by my grandmother Lilian. I was babysat a lot as a child (thank you, Brenda G xxx), while my mother was out earning, and I resented this for many years solely because I missed her so much. When we did spend time together though, it was precious. We danced and sang to all the latest chart toppers, we watched The Liver Birds, T.O.T.P, Whodunnit, Opportunity Knocks, Are You Being Served? and Crossroads together. We made cassette tapes (usually from comedies scripts like The Two Ronnies) for loved ones and family in Australia. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to love sitting behind her on the sofa so that I could brush her hair. </span> Those were my favourite times. But <i>"Turn Back Time" </i>made me see the 1970s from a different perspective - my mother's.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1970s Britain was a time of political upheaval with strikes, power cuts, water shortages, the introduction of the three-day week, and women's liberation. I didn't fully realise the impact all this would have had on my family, I was too busy worrying about my scooter and if we'd had a decent amount of snowfall to run around in. <i>"Turn Back Time"</i> illustrates the upheavals faced in the 1970s perfectly, showing scenes where families were plunged into darkness, having to fill their kettles and pans with water from the street tap, and constant worrying about the weekly wage. The Rhodes family joined the <i>"T.B.T"</i> families in this last episode: Lisa (single mother) and her two young sons, Harrison and Daniel. My heart went out to Lisa Rhodes as she symbolised everything about my own mother, doing it tough in the 1970s, and she had <i>two</i> children to clothe and feed! They were housed in one of the upstairs bed-sits where Lisa's kitchenette was sparse in every capacity. She had a temperamental immersion heater, a tiny sink, draining board, worktop and a two-burner, camping-style stove. At least my Mum and I had a decent sized kitchen with a proper stove! And we had seperate bedrooms, whereas the Rhodes family were cramped together in one room.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I used to complain a lot when I was growing up, wondering why we had so little when others had so much. I was jealous of my sisters (sorry lovelies xxx) and jealous of my school friends, and I did give my Mum a hard time, asking her for things she just couldn't afford to give me. I'm sorry for being so selfish Mum, I know you did your utmost best for both of us, and you did it almost single-handedly (you were a stubborn little buggger at times!). I didn't mean to take you for granted and I didn't mean to continually harp on at you about what I wanted differently.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><i>Happy Mother's Day Mumsy. Thank you. I love you very much xxx xxx xxx xxx</i></b></span></div>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-73927577537730373002013-04-21T14:30:00.001+08:002013-04-21T14:44:02.901+08:00A Place To Call Home<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have neglected my blog here at "Pocketfull", but I do have a good excuse. Well, maybe not a <i>good</i> excuse but an excuse nonetheless. In recent months I've created a new blog which is dedicated to the history of my childhood hometown and I've been contributing to it almost twice weekly (See it <a href="http://relicsofbeccleshistory.blogspot.com.au/" target="_blank">here</a>). For now at least, I've run out of steam so I've decided to devote some of my free time back here, amongst my family history.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A new Australian drama is set to start on the Seven Network next week called 'A Place To Call Home' and while I've been rather looking forward to watching this post-world-war-two drama it has got me thinking lately about "home" and what it means to me personally. Even though I have lived in Australia for most of my life, I still have a hankering for my childhood home. Beyond this, I have often found myself wondering what my family and my ancestors would have called home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both of my grandmothers were devoted to their homes. My maternal grandmother Lilian always proudly called herself a "Londoner", even long after the war ended in 1945, when she was married and living in a quiet market town in Suffolk. Then, in 1978 she emigrated to Australia. Yet, all her life, at every opportunity she could get, she went back to London. Her heart was always right there and when she died in 1983 of a massive heart attack, I always believed (and still do, to this day) that it was because her heart was broken for home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My paternal grandmother Freda lived in Beccles all her life. She never moved away from the town, except for a few years when she moved to nearby Brampton but she quickly welcomed a return to Beccles. There was no question of her living anywhere else but Beccles. She was born there, she was married there, she raised four boys there, and it never entered her mind to travel further than was absolutely necessary. She believed in setting down your roots and staying put and, for the most part, she was content with that. It didn't make her small minded but it certainly made her homely and connected to her roots.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My grandfathers? My paternal grandfather Herbert lived in Bungay, London, and later, Beccles. I don't think that any one particular place meant more to him. I believe he went where "duty called" for the most part, even during the Second World War when he was stationed at Sutton Coldfield.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My maternal grandfather was born and lived all his life in Bungay. While he fudged his age slightly on enlistment with the Norfolk Regiment I don't think it was necessarily because he wanted to escape home life. He just wanted to do what he felt was right. He was to travel to India during his pre-World War Two service and later to Dunkirk before his capture and internment in a German Prisoner-of-War camp. Later, in 1944-45, he served with the Royal Army Medical Corps and was stationed at Epsom, county Surrey. After the war, when he married my grandmother Lilian, they remained in Bungay and raised their family there, trying (against impossible odds at times) to live by the post-war standards of a secure family life.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUXKAEMb_f4NGcxvPphcZSZ714ljfu2ZI7GlKoXLjdHZwLEbPvZMtGINDqEV7jRx1Yz3XJ6iar9cqllyUFs49xCFSm8wLT-FOO5oxRYEbliYku8JlYKIjUKrZDSHE02gwnBVJw_VDokI/s1600/WaveneyRiverBeccles_AerialView.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisUXKAEMb_f4NGcxvPphcZSZ714ljfu2ZI7GlKoXLjdHZwLEbPvZMtGINDqEV7jRx1Yz3XJ6iar9cqllyUFs49xCFSm8wLT-FOO5oxRYEbliYku8JlYKIjUKrZDSHE02gwnBVJw_VDokI/s320/WaveneyRiverBeccles_AerialView.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Aerial view of Beccles and the River Waveney</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I look back another generation, to my great-grandparents' idea of what home meant to them, it differs quite dramatically. For example, my maternal great-grandparents Albert and Elizabeth, were born in the exact same town in London. They were both from working-class families and both were baptised at the same church. Their families possibly knew one another and shared a similar social history. Albert was restless though, even as a young boy. He wanted to travel and see the world, stretch his wings and leave Putney well behind him forever. He lied about his age to get into the Royal Navy and his only reason for returning to Putney was to marry his sweetheart, Elizabeth, in 1905. After that they lived in Southwark, Fulham, Tooting, Bloomsbury and later, Sutton (where they settled and remained until Elizabeth's death in 1951).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My other maternal great-grandparents, Percy and Nellie, were much like my paternal grandmother. They remained in the Suffolk market town of Bungay all their lives. There was no question of moving away, although my great-grandfather Percy, as a younger man, did love the sea and he took to fishing on trawler boats off the coast of Lowestoft for many years before settling back to farm life after the Great War (1914-1918).</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Putney, in Greater London</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My paternal great-grandparents were also a mixed bunch. Albert and Eva were Becclesians to the last, although my great-grandmother Eva was born in Loddon (her parents were Loddon born and raised before moving to Beccles) but she never had a great need to return there. Beccles was her home and Great Yarmouth was her favourite family holiday destination. Albert was born and raised in Beccles, and he remained staunchly faithful to the town and its townsfolk; at home, in religious circles, and in his work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My other paternal great-grandparents, Arthur and Barbara, lived as a married couple in the market town of Bungay and raised their family there but they were not knowingly tied to their roots. Barbara was born in Holdenhurst, county Hampshire and lived there until she was a young girl, when her father took on a new job as a Railway Gatekeeper in Woodsford, county Dorset. Less than five years later, her mother passed away, her father abandoned her and she moved to London to work in the Domestic Service. Arthur joined the Norfolk Regiment as a young man and served in both the Boer War and the Great War. It was during the Great War that Barbara moved back to London with the children (including my grandfather Herbert) while Arthur was away fighting for King and Country. When the war ended they went back, as a family, to Bungay.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So there we have it; a mixture of loyalties towards home and yet, across the board, so very similar. There are those who willingly left home to fight in the war. Those who wanted to leave their homes for broader horizons. Those who stayed in the same town all their lives, loyal to the last. Those who wanted to run from their past and never look back and those who couldn't let go of their past and so returned again and again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To this day I share the same tug-of-war with my maternal grandmother Lilian, the Londoner, who always found a way to go back even though the memories of her childhood were not altogether pleasant or heart-warming ones. Something always called her back and she was deeply proud of her London roots, even in the impossible heat and vastness of Australia that she made home for the last remaining years of her life. My own tug-of-war calls me back to Beccles, and sometimes that call is overwhelming. It certainly reflects in my ability to write about it without getting completely caught up and swept away in a sea of nostalgia and sentiment! Even though Australia is now the place I call my home I still carry a piece of Beccles deep within my heart, and I always will. I could never let it go.</span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-20861679305701845722013-03-19T16:45:00.000+08:002013-03-19T16:45:03.001+08:00Body of a Child : My Ancestors Involved in a Mystery<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My last <a href="http://pocketfulloffamilymemories.blogspot.com.au/2013/02/when-children-die-in-strange.html" target="_blank">blog post</a> referred to two of my Jolly cousins - well, second cousins three times removed to be precise. This time I'm embarking on another Jolly story, as shared recently by my third cousin. She has contact with a Jolly descendent who sent her an article which involves our 3 x great-grandfather Josiah Jolly, who was with two of his sons Josiah Jolly (jnr) and Charles or David Jolly (our second great-grand uncles), when Josiah (jnr) discovered the body of a baby in a field.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*At the time of this event Josiah Jolly (snr) and his wife Susan were living in Plough Street, Bungay. The Plough Inn mentioned below was on this street. Today, Plough Street is known as Wingfield Street. Josiah Jolly (jnr) had married the previous December and the 1851 census return (taken 30 March 1851) puts them both at Shipmeadow Workhouse as Inmates. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Bury and Norwich Post Newspaper, dated 27 August 1851, reported:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Body of a child found: -- On Saturday evening, as a labouring man, named Jolly, was going home from his work, in the company of his father and brother, he went into a barley-field near St John's-Hill, to gather some rabbits' meat. He saw a parcel lying there, three or four yards from the gate, apparently done up in white cloth. He mentioned it to his father, who told him to leave it alone, as someone might have placed it there intentionally and would come for it. On the following Monday morning, on going to work, he again saw the parcel, and on examining it, found it was an old basket, wrapped up in a cloth, and inside another cloth he found the body of a female infant. The cloth round the body was marked with red cotton, "C.E.O.T." Information was sent to the police, and an inquest was held before Mr Lawrence, on Tuesday, at the Plough Inn*, where Chas. W. Currie, surgeon, who made a <i>post-mortem</i> examination of the body, deposed that it was that of a full-grown infant, and must have been perfectly healthy when born. He did not discover any external marks of violence : it had lived but a very short time, if it had lived at all...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L9z_7LF47J-LZ0HCyH5KDRnV10sbOoHX-KK_tY7hcKaSmv4obshlTzQi8mtsvB9VPXFlBGI-WChlvXr7yxMpebXCYjPXhzU5oys_Ww3d9ooqRKxtWkoBtDpsH1KqhE2Ulf3ybTEJZjw/s1600/GeneralView_Bungay1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L9z_7LF47J-LZ0HCyH5KDRnV10sbOoHX-KK_tY7hcKaSmv4obshlTzQi8mtsvB9VPXFlBGI-WChlvXr7yxMpebXCYjPXhzU5oys_Ww3d9ooqRKxtWkoBtDpsH1KqhE2Ulf3ybTEJZjw/s400/GeneralView_Bungay1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Postcard</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The article my cousin received was from The Bungay Society Journal, No 71, dated December 2010. Here is an extract:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><b>A LOCAL VICTORIAN TRAGEDY </b></u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Monday 18 August 1851 the police received information that the body of an infant had been found on a field near St John's Hill. Local Inspector Nagle went immediately to the spot, and was handed a basket, containing the body of a child by a labourer, Josiah Jolly, who had discovered it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following day an inquest into the death was held in the town. Mr Lawrence, a coroner from Ipswich had been summoned to attend, and the sessions were held at the Plough Inn, in Wingfield Street. At that time pubs were often used for such proceedings if there were no other public building available. The Plough was an ancient tavern, and was the last building in Bungay to retain a thatch when it was finally demolished in 1964.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The coroner heard this evidence from Josiah Jolly. "I am a labouring man, and live at Bungay. About half past seven on Saturday evening, as I, my father and brother went to the gate of a field near St John's Hill, intending to gather some rabbits' victuals, and as I was getting over the gate, I saw a parcel lying in the field, about four yards from me, which I pointed out to my father. He desired me to leave it alone...When we reached Mr Sewell's house on the Ollands, I saw him standing by the gate talking to three persons who appeared to be begging and I told him what I had seen...On the Monday morning, as I, my father and brother were going past the same field I went to the gate to see if the parcel was still there and on seeing it, took it up, and brought it into the road to my father. I untied the cloth and found an old basket, on opening which I saw something pinned up in a cloth. I took out the pin and began to remove the cloth, when I observed a child's foot...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On 22 August 1851 the police apprehended a woman named Leggate, against whom there were some peculiarly suspicious circumstances. She was remanded in custody until the 28th, and afterwards consented to a medical examination, but it was certified that she had not given birth to a child, and was discharged.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The final inquest was conducted on 6 September, with negative conclusions. The Jury returned a verdict that the child had "been found dead, but whether born alive or not, the Jury have not sufficient evidence".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It as further reported that many rumours had been in circulation, one traced to a man named George Codling, who was said to have stated that the parcel containing the body had been seen at Jolly's house on the Sunday preceding the day of the discovery in the field. As Codling refused to attend the inquest and confirm his statement before the Jury, the coroner concluded that it was just malicious fabrication: for which he regretted that there was no punishment...</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvtq6ILQQamAiyLZiyv8-mU4MIYNr7n-ToTcaAKGPwHmQ2oAlqnFzJCL4mGiEaDq1LzZDb9kivVH4T7z3zQQq2Ucfrw1yChB7j0nbI3X_Tqqz-w6QqBu7DkQwmt6qiB_QsTmVagoC8rg/s1600/BungayMap_OS1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvtq6ILQQamAiyLZiyv8-mU4MIYNr7n-ToTcaAKGPwHmQ2oAlqnFzJCL4mGiEaDq1LzZDb9kivVH4T7z3zQQq2Ucfrw1yChB7j0nbI3X_Tqqz-w6QqBu7DkQwmt6qiB_QsTmVagoC8rg/s400/BungayMap_OS1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ordnance Survey Map of Bungay<br />Shows St John's Hill, The Ollands & Wingfield Street<br />Click to enlarge</span><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It would appear that my Jolly ancestors had a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or were mixed up with and embroiled in misdemeanours, rumours, and, pardon me for saying so, a series of unfortunate events.</span><br />
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4783214828357423938.post-30220854859096882972013-02-20T13:25:00.003+08:002013-02-20T13:26:40.011+08:00When Children Die In Strange Circumstances<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last night my cousin shared a photograph with me. It was taken after the 1908 hurricane hit Bungay and severely damaged two Cemetery chapels. What interested both of us about the photograph was the gravestone in front. It was a <b>Jolly</b> grave. Our common ancestors. Not only that, the grave was for two children - brothers - one aged twelve and the other aged nine, who had drowned. Putting my Miss Marple hat on, I went straight to the British Newspaper Archive website.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TOWukBDTDdbCESbNrQG6mhv6R6o-qu6S5zuluLNqQxLHqoRwGSxoiu6-XK9z7i0HyDuEHtdvi6z0qAmFJChEjCXvB0kx9ftYTAOJTuuQIp959U7Y-PeFqI9t2YWMjgMYbK7E7iNrz9g/s1600/Graveyard_AngieJolly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TOWukBDTDdbCESbNrQG6mhv6R6o-qu6S5zuluLNqQxLHqoRwGSxoiu6-XK9z7i0HyDuEHtdvi6z0qAmFJChEjCXvB0kx9ftYTAOJTuuQIp959U7Y-PeFqI9t2YWMjgMYbK7E7iNrz9g/s400/Graveyard_AngieJolly.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bungay Cemetery Chapel; the aftermath of the 1908 hurricane</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Ipswich Journal dated 7 March 1882 reported the drowning death of nine-year-old James Jolly, the son of James and Charlotte Jolly of Bungay. The report states James was allegedly seen stealing from a broken shop window and upon being asked what he was doing, ran away. He was last seen by a school friend who spoke with James and asked where he was going in such a hurry. James replied that he was going on an errand and ran towards the direction of the Bungay Common. The next day a local butcher found a cap on the Common, by the river, belonging to James Jolly and went to alert Policeman Mann. Upon further searching, they found the body of James Jolly who was drowned. An inquest returned an open verdict of "accidental drowning".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Contacting my cousin with the news, we were both shocked about this newspaper article. Curiosity got the better of me an hour or so later and I went back to the British Newspaper Archive on the off-chance that James Jolly's brother Frederick may have also died under strange circumstances. You would be right in assuming that a large percentage of children died in Victorian times. Sickness, disease, inadequate (or expensive) health care and poverty were rife and it would be considered "normal" for a child to die before being given a proper chance at life. You can therefore imagine my total surprise when I found the newspaper report for Frederick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Ipswich Journal dated 27 December 1890 reported that Frederick Jolly "died suddenly". After a brief illness ( a common cold) Frederick, who was an errand boy for a local chemist, complained of feeling unwell and was sent home to recuperate. On the way home he met with some of his friends who began taunting him with snowballs. We all know that kids can be cruel but I am pretty certain that they did not anticipate that would be the last time they would see their friend. Frederick allegedly reported to his friends that he had eaten some poisoned sweets and felt unwell. The next day, after a night of vomiting and diarrhoea, Frederick was pronounced dead by the local surgeon, Mr Garneys. The coroner for the district decided that no inquest was necessary and Frederick had died of "sudden illness".</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs25xSnFGVukOQCDOnVk9lHg_OGNn7hhkuejcgIPUf8_6L9Cd2sDYrfdFMrc_MK8APwHDaJlYJCHWKrMQpFJK2uXqkaF1aD8y0owcSNixVb1P0LaJY1tz9QLOckzTztaE7YZbMoUAEU40/s1600/jolly_1908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs25xSnFGVukOQCDOnVk9lHg_OGNn7hhkuejcgIPUf8_6L9Cd2sDYrfdFMrc_MK8APwHDaJlYJCHWKrMQpFJK2uXqkaF1aD8y0owcSNixVb1P0LaJY1tz9QLOckzTztaE7YZbMoUAEU40/s320/jolly_1908.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The gravestone of brothers, Frederick & James Jolly</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What frustrates me as a twenty-first century genealogist and social historian is that the circumstances of these children's deaths was brushed aside and not properly dealt with. The newspaper reports throw up all kinds of unanswered questions and leaves me sorely wishing for a time machine. In the case of James, he was a nine-year-old boy. A cheeky larrikin perhaps, but a boy who had his whole life ahead of him. How did he come to drown? Why did he drown? Who is accountable for this boys death? Was it a mere accident or was something bigger going on?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the case of Frederick, he was a twelve-year-old boy who had been sick with a common cold. The circumstances of how he came to ingest "poisoned sweets" is baffling. He worked for a chemist so it may be safe to assume that Frederick may have been curious about the powders and tablets and maybe the temptation to "try" some overcame him. Did he unwittingly kill himself? Why was this not mentioned in the report? It was just expected that he was a child, and children die every day. No big deal. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am quite saddened that these two brothers died so young. Their parents James and Charlotte Jolly lost two of their sons to unfair and disadvantaged circumstances. I think I can better understand my great-grandmother Nellie Jolly today. She prayed every night, on her knees, beside her bed, with her rosary beads wrapped around her hands, for everyone in her family. She named every single one - immediate family and extended - and she would not raise from her kneeling position until she had mentioned every person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It turns out that the photograph (pictured above) is actually on page 93 of Christopher Reeve's 2009 book "Bungay Through Time". The photograph's caption reads:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Bungay Cemetery, Hillside Road: The Cemetery, established in the late nineteenth century, originally had three mortuary chapels. In 1908, a rare hurricane occured which blew down the north wall of one of them, and it was demolished soon afterwards..."</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0LGj2qt8C38BOqmRhUqc1P-2E7BFeMWa8CoIW_ywB6D02oclNZ8w78xTBT6lOzyCiSpJ2NuzryX1KoyXCMpp9YE-oPZdKRaf05sYoQAFNf5TPPMbD7qb0FgIFNmFvph_jIaLNzRqQAA/s1600/cemetery_bungay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0LGj2qt8C38BOqmRhUqc1P-2E7BFeMWa8CoIW_ywB6D02oclNZ8w78xTBT6lOzyCiSpJ2NuzryX1KoyXCMpp9YE-oPZdKRaf05sYoQAFNf5TPPMbD7qb0FgIFNmFvph_jIaLNzRqQAA/s320/cemetery_bungay.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bungay Cemetery today</span></td></tr>
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Relics of Beccleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04742667063184782644noreply@blogger.com10