Lilian Katie : 100 Years

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.

I have written about her here

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 Bourjois 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, "those who tire of London tire of life". 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.

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.

Winifred Ellen : 100 Years

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.

I have written about her here

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.

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.

The Alden Family

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.

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.

Jean Sampson (nee Alden) with her niece & nephews
in Beccles, around 1950

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.

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.

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:

Ernest Leonard Alden

Annie Norah Alden (known as Norah/Nora)

Ellen Catherine Alden (known as Nellie)

Emily Hilda Alden (known as Hilda)

Robert Benjamin Alden

Harry Edward Alden (known as Edward)

Frederick George Alden

Agnes Mercy Alden (known as Mercy)

Florrence Alden

Nancy Alden

Ivy Elizabeth Alden

Mollie Joan Alden

Frank Stanley Alden (was born in 1912)

There was also a 'Female' Alden born (possibly stillborn) and died in 1894

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".

Robert Alden (right)

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.

My next blog will concentrate on Emily Gilding and her ancestry (the mother of Mollie Joan Alden). Mollie Alden's father Robert died in 1950, aged 78 and her mother Emily died in 1929, aged 57. Mollie married in 1941 to Samuel Barley, known as Toby. She died in 1987.

I must acknowledge and thank S. Howlett for sharing the photographs you see on this blog post, via the Ancestry website.

My Nannie and Blogiversary

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.

I have found out a lot more about my Nannie Lilian (read my blog post about her here) 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.

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.

Lilian, taken around 1955

Family Letters and Strange Dreams

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.

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.

My letters from Freda (1990-1993)

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.

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.

Freda, about 1933

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:

Dear Joan & Billy,

Many Congratulations on the birth of your little Son. I am so glad it all went off well & that you are both well.

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.

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'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.

We shall look forward to seeing him now.

Love from us all,

Freda

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).

Dear Muriel,

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.

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...

I love his closing salutation:

Yours for always,

Your loving brother, 

Billy

xxxxxx

Brother and Sister: Billy & Muriel, 1935

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.

A Place To Call Home

I have neglected my blog here at "Pocketfull", but I do have a good excuse. Well, maybe not a good 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 here). 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Aerial view of Beccles and the River Waveney

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).

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).

Putney, in Greater London

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.

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.

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.

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.

2012 "Deck The Halls" Christmas Geneameme

Thanks to Pauleen (cassmob) from Family History Across The Seas and other bloggers I have been inspired to take part in the 2012 "Deck The Halls" Christmas Geneameme. So here is my contribution:

Whilst Christmas in my house may not necessarily be a religious experience it is definitely a part of the whole meaning of Christmas to me and my family. We honour the occasion for what it truly is, and not for the massive commercialisation it has come to be in recent times.

Do you have any special Xmas traditions in your family?

I’m not entirely sure what constitutes as traditional in this day and age but I do like to uphold a routine of early morning present opening, followed by a cooked breakfast and then I get stuck in to preparing and cooking a turkey and trimmings feast for everyone. Then I fall into an exhausted heap and have a nanna nap!

 

Is church attendance an important part of your Christmas celebrations and do you go the evening before or on Xmas Day?

When I was little, growing up in the UK, it was a very important part of Christmas, as was attending the local cemetery to place a wreath on my paternal grandparents and great-grandparents graves. Nowadays I attend Midnight Mass with my mother but only when I can be bothered to stay up that late!

Did/do you or your grandchildren/children believe in Santa?

I was brought up to believe in Santa and I did until one year when I accidentally ruined everything for my sisters. I distinctly recognised my father’s voice shouting “Ho Ho Ho” at the kitchen door and yelled out “That’s not Santa, that’s you Dad!”. I still feel guilty about that 30+ years on! My daughter was brought up to believe in Santa and the magic of Christmas but a few years ago she pretty much told me her school friends said it was all rubbish. I didn’t deny or confirm, and I still haven’t.

Do you go carolling in your neighbourhood?

I value my life too much to even contemplate doing something like that. In theory it all sounds wonderful and nostalgic but in reality it is just unsafe in our neighbourhood.

What’s your favourite Christmas music?

I don’t have any specific favourites but I do love to play Bing Crosby (as he was my maternal grandmother’s favourite) and Michael Buble but to be quite honest, I usually like to play a mixture from all genres across the board.

What’s your favourite Christmas carol? 
“Joy To the World” is my definite favourite.

Do you have a special Xmas movie/book you like to watch/read? 

For me it has to be Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” – it delivers such a powerful message and one that hits the heart every single time I watch it or read it. My daughter and I love the Muppets movie version but I also enjoy watching Seymour Hicks’ version.

Does your family do individual gifts, gifts for littlies only, Secret Santa (aka Kris Kringle)?

My mother and my aunts do that sort of thing. I don’t have grandchildren and I’m self-employed so there are no co-workers to worry about buying for.

Is your main Christmas meal indoors or outdoors, at home or away?

There has been a mixture of traditions in my life as I came from England where it was definitely indoors and always at home. When I came to Australia it has been a combination of indoors and outdoors (sometimes both if it’s a particularly hot day) and a combination of home and away, visiting relatives and extended family later in the afternoon or early evening or on Boxing Day.

What do you eat as your main course for the Christmas meal and do you have a special recipe? 

Always a turkey and roast vegetables spread with lashings of gravy and stuffing. I am proud to say that I follow Jamie Oliver’s Christmas recipes and they have not let me down yet. Everyone loves my slap-up feast and there are hardly any leftovers!

Jamie Oliver with his Nan

Does Christmas pudding feature on the Xmas menu?

I remember my maternal great-grandmother always started making her Christmas pudding months before Christmas day, and my grandmother and my mother upheld this tradition for many years. In more recent years my mother likes to make a Christmas Cake.

Do you have any other special Christmas foods? What are they? 
Mince Pies and Shortbread mostly, and Brandy Custard!

Do you give home-made food/craft for gifts at Christmas?

When my daughter was smaller we used to bake gingerbread cookies together, using different Christmas cookie-cutter shapes, but both of us got lazy and stopped doing it. Turns out it is cheaper to buy them from the supermarket anyway!

Do you return to your family for Xmas or vice versa?

Before I had my own family, yes always. I do have family in the UK as well and it has been nice to spend Christmas with them whenever money permits (which sadly is not often enough for my liking).

Is your Christmas celebrated differently from your childhood ones? If yes, how does it differ?

Naturally it is different as I grew up the UK and now live in Australia as an adult where traditions and weather is quite different. I do try to continue some childhood traditions for my own family but we like to make our own unique memories too.

  

How do you celebrate Xmas with your friends? Lunch? Pre-Xmas outings? Drop-ins?

I used to when I was a teenager and young twenty-something, gadding about and catching up with everyone I knew. Nowadays I spend Christmas primarily with my family and loved ones.

Do you decorate your house with lights? A little or a lot?

No, I am a tad fire-hazard and electricity-bill conscious so we only have lights on the Christmas tree which are carefully monitored and are only switched on for a few hours per night.

Is your neighbourhood a “Xmas lights” tour venue?

I have to admit, that comes and goes in our neighbourhood. One year we went out and found several houses in the area which were festooned with light displays but in recent years they have either moved away or just become electricity-bill conscious like so many of us these days.

Does your family attend Carols by Candlelight singalongs/concerts? Where?

We've been going to Carols By Candlelight at my mother’s local church group in recent years. This has been really wonderful for all the family and it’s great to have the local Salvation Army Band being a part of it.

Have any of your Christmases been spent camping (unlikely for our northern-hemisphere friends)? 
No, not ever although I did spend my first Christmas in Australia on the beach (which I hated and was very depressed, so vowed I would never do again).

Is Christmas spent at your home, with family or at a holiday venue? 
These day it is always spent at my home, with my family. Twice I have returned to the UK for Christmas there, which was equally as lovely and wish I could do more often.

  

Do you have snow for Christmas where you live?

That is funny! NO. It has never snowed in Perth (as far as I know at least!)

Do you have a Christmas tree every year?

Of course. Usually a tree lasts in our house for about 3-4 years before we need to go out and buy a new one and we always try to go for one that is at least 6 foot tall.

Is your Christmas tree a live tree (potted/harvested) or an imitation?

Imitation *shame-faced* and it is always, always green. I DO NOT believe in Christmas trees that are pink, blue or purple!

Do you have special Xmas tree decorations?

I like to use traditional colours such as red and green, silver and gold ornaments and tinsel. Every 5 years or so I invest in new ornaments (in the post-Christmas sales) but I like to keep and use a mixture of old and new.

Which is more important to your family, Christmas or Thanksgiving?

We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here in Australia which is good and bad. Good because I don’t think the average Australian housewife and/or mother could handle the stress of two turkey dinners in a month and bad because I think some Australians could benefit from learning the value of being thankful.

Family History Through The Alphabet Blog Challenge : Z is for...

Here we are, the last post (bugle sounds) for the Alphabet Blog Challenge and once again I have to credit somebody else for the topic of the most baffling letter of all. My amazingly perceptive daughter came up with Zeppelin. How could I refuse when I've already blogged about my 4xgreat-grandfather Zachariah Rudd?

It makes perfect sense to write about the Zeppelin raids which affected my ancestors, not least because my ancestors lived in London and along the East Coast of England (the counties of Suffolk, Norfolk, Essex and Kent were repeatedly raided from 1915-17) but because my paternal grandmother Freda often spoke of her parents who saw the Zeppelins as they came across the North Sea.

Before the First World War, Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin developed an airship specifically for long-distance passenger flights. When the war broke out in August 1914, these airships were taken over by the German army. Throughout the war the Germans were prepared to try new forms of warfare and in January 1915 they mounted the first airship raid on England.

On the night of 19 January, two Zeppelins bombed the docks at King's Lynn and Great Yarmouth (county Norfolk) which killed four people. The East Suffolk Gazette reported that a Mr T W Holmes of Denmark Road, Beccles "believes he heard an airship coming over the town, possibly on its way back after its tour in Norfolk". Other raids followed and much damage was inflicted across the Eastern Counties. In the Autumn of 1915 a raid on the City of London killed 38 people and caused extensive damage.

A Zeppelin over Cuffley, county Kent
They look eerily like Alien space-craft

During my research into the Zeppelin raids I was amazed to discover how they were made. Zeppelin airships had a metal frame containing large bags of hydrogen gas, which lifted the craft into the air. They were powered by engines mounted outside the craft. Crew and bombs were carried in a gondola which hung underneath the craft. There was no protection which meant the men were exposed in all weather conditions, and there was nowhere to sit in the gondola which meant long periods of having to stand up. In the early part of the war the bombs had to be dropped by hand!

Most Zeppelins flew too high for British aircraft to catch and attack them but by the autumn of 1916 British airplanes were equipped with explosive shells (and later, incendiary bullets) and on 2 September the first Zeppelin was shot down by a British pilot. After two more unsuccessful raids, the Zeppelins stopped coming. By 1917 most German airships were restricted to reconnaissance work at sea. According to the Illustrated History of the First World War by John Keegan, "Germany flew a total of 115 military Zeppelins during the war, of which 77 were destroyed, 7 captured, 22 scrapped and 9 surrendered to the Allies".

Raid on Great Yarmouth, Norfolk 1915

Zeppelin Raid on Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk 1915

My great-grandparents may not have been directly affected by the Zeppelin raids of 1915-17 but they were certainly witness to its overall destruction and reign of terror across England. I know that my great-grandparents would have seen continual wreckage through both the Zeppelin raids and the Gotha Raids in London.

During the early part of the First World War my great-grandmother Elizabeth was living in Fulham, raising four children alone whilst her husband, my great-grandfather Albert, was fighting off the coast of Turkey with the Royal Navy Reserve. It is known that areas nearby to Fulham were repeatedly targeted and bombed in the 1917 Gotha Raids. I believe that is why Elizabeth and my great-aunts and great-uncles subsequently moved to Edmonton around 1917-18.

My paternal great-grandparents were living close to the coastline of Suffolk during the First World War. My great-grandfather Arthur Ward may have been on the Western Front serving his King and Country but his wife, my great-grandmother Barbara, was living in the heart of London with four of their children, including my grandfather Herbert. It is no small wonder that following 1917, they moved back to Suffolk.

Family History Through The Alphabet Challenge : X is for...

I'm giving my Mum's partner full credit for this week's blog. He proved the theory that talking with somebody about a problem you're having can be seen by the other person with fresh eyes. I was truly stuck on what to write about for the letter X until he said, "What about Xmas?"

 

To be honest, there was a time (not so long ago) when I really loathed the expression Xmas because I mistakenly thought it was a form of blasphemy. According to Gerry Bowler's "The World Encyclopedia of Christmas" though, Xmas means thus:

"An abbreviation for Christmas derived from "X" (chi), the first letter of the Greek word for Christ. Though the term has a long and honourable history, some modern Christians have misunderstood it as a disrespectful kind of shorthand unsuitable for the solemn origin of the name."

Or Dr R Brasch's "Christmas Customs & Traditions" says:

In the Greek language, the letter "X" - shi - was the initial letter of Xristos, meaning Christ. Early scribes were busy people and parchment was costly. They often shortened words to save time and money, and that is how they came to use just the letter X.

So, what about my family's Christmas/Xmas traditions? I have many fond memories of Christmas, both as a child and as an adult. Thanks to my upbringing I have long honoured it as being a time for family, the chance to put aside grievances and worries and spend time with people who mean the most. My grandparents were perfect hosts at Christmas time, going all out with large quantities of festive food and beverages (alcoholic and non-alcoholic). My Mum has very fond memories of her parents preparing for Christmas, from her father carrying home a tree over his shoulder and her mother lighting candles on the tree before gathering around the tree with the whole family to sing carols and hymns. Every year my grandmother Lilian knitted jumpers for each of her four children and later, her many grandchildren. She gave out sugared mice, nuts and oranges to everybody on Christmas morning.

Another childhood memory my Mum has of Christmas with her parents was they would not allow their children outside to play on Christmas Day. They stayed indoors all day sitting by the hearth, sharing stories and singing. Boxing Day was a different story however, and my grandfather would race his children outside and build snowmen and instigate snowball fights with all the children on their street. My first year in Australia was mostly spent on the beach near Scarborough, and I remember that it was awfully hot. I was so sad that day because I missed the snow terribly and all the trimmings and traditions of a northern hemisphere Christmas. I vowed I would never again visit the beach on Christmas Day, and to this day I have kept that promise.

My grandmother Lilian at Christmas, 1982

The year before my grandmother Lilian passed away she was given a Teasmaid which all the family chipped in to buy her. She was so surprised when she opened her present, and squealed so loud we all had to politely block our ears. But, she was so thrilled and I remember that very special Christmas moment so clearly (and not just because it was captured on camera). It was her last Christmas with us all.

The last Christmas I remember spending with my grandmother Freda, was at my Dad's house. She loved to sit and watch all of us open our presents from each other, and listen to us all natter. She always got more joy from that than from opening her own gifts. She loved being a part of the family festivities at Christmas. As long as she was included, nothing else mattered and I've inherited that feeling. For me, it's not about the presents. It's about family, it's about providing a huge Christmas turkey dinner with all the trimmings, and it's about love.

My grandmother Freda, Christmas 1993

Family History Through The Alphabet Challenge : N is for...

When it comes to the letter N there is no contest about my subject matter. My great-grandmother was Ellen Jolly, but everybody knew her as Nellie.

I was blessed to grow up near and get to know my great-grandmother. Nellie was truly amazing. She was caring, warm-hearted, and fiercely devoted to her family and her religious beliefs. When I was very young I remember staying at her flat in Bungay and sleeping with her in her bed. She would kneel by her side of the bed every night, holding her rosary beads and she would pray for everybody in the family. It was a long list of names and it took her almost ten minutes to get through them all but we couldn't get into bed until she had named everyone who meant something to her.

Nellie (taken in 1916)

Nellie was a very loyal person, as a daughter, a sister and as a mother and grandmother. She was close with all of her brothers and her eldest sister Alice. She also became firm friends with her one-time neighbour Alice Kent (who married my great-grand uncle Herbert Ward in 1911). When Nellie's father contracted influenza and broncho-pnuemonia in 1916/17, she took him in to her home and nursed him for several weeks until he passed away in the January of 1917.

Nellie with her brothers Herbert, William and Fred
(taken abt 1930)

When The Great War was well into its second year, Nellie's husband enlisted in the Army (due to a recent change in the conscription age) and soon after was posted to France. By this time they had one son (my grandfather) and, during her husband's absence, Nellie clung to her son and they formed a strong bond which would see them through some extremely tough trials and challenges during World War Two. In June 1940 Nellie's son was reported missing and for several months she did not know whether he was alive or dead. When he finally sent word that he was a Prisoner of War in Germany, it tested her very resolve yet it further strengthened her relationship with him.

Nellie was widowed by the time she was forty-two years old. She never re-married. During the 1940s Nellie opened a Boarding House for Single Working Men. She would run this house in Lower Olland Street, Bungay for at least ten to fifteen years until she retired. My mother has vivid memories of the layout of Nellie's house and all the blood, sweat and tears she put into running everything like clockwork. Nellie baked, washed, ironed, sewed, and cleaned and she did it all single-handed. When my mother was old enough she used to stay with Nellie and assist her with small chores but she was never allowed to go into the men's bedrooms. Nellie always ensured that her grand-daughter was downstairs at all times, to help her in the kitchen and at the dining table.

Nellie and Deb (taken in 1976)
Check out the television behind us!

I remember Nellie most of all for her kindness, her soft voice, her prayers and rosary beads, her flat in Bungay with its tiny kitchen and curtained off cupboard, her hard mattress, her jug and bowl on her wash-stand, her clothes (which were almost always navy blue) and her devotion to her friends and extended family. She never said a cross word about anybody, and always encouraged us to see the good in people. Nellie was such a lovely mother, grandmother and great-grandmother and I will always remember her with tenderness. I know she is proud of me for recently writing a book about her son's Army life.

Family History Through The Alphabet Challenge : K is for...

This post may be more obscure than the norm but the biggest thing that stands out for me in my genealogy experience, that starts with the letter 'K' is keep.

Let me explain. When I was a teenager, running around footloose and fancy free without a care in the world, my grandmothers told me stories about our ancestry. How I wish I was better at remembering everything they said. I did keep an exercise book (which I still have today) in which I scribbled down things they told me, names and dates mostly. Birthplaces and occupations too. I'm still amazed at how much my paternal grandmother remembered. She was virtually spot on with birthdates and she knew who married who, where and when.

When I got more serious about genealogy, I pulled out that trusty exercise book and got busy. I went to every library, I scoured the internet, I poured over shelves of local history and social history books, I ordered reams of church records microfilms and I squinted for hours at a time at microfiche readers. Very soon, my exercise book filled to capacity and I had to go out and buy another, and another and...(you get the picture). They came in various sizes, colours, cover designs and brands. I bought pencils like they were going out of fashion. I wrote down everything I could think of, and more. I wrote down every source, page number, quotation....(Okay, no I didn't. I learned that lesson the hard way).

 The moral of this story is? I learned to keep everything. Even if I don't think it will be relevant later, it just might be, otherwise I end up kicking myself and turning myself (and my house) upside down and inside out trying to locate it. Through my love of genealogy I have learned to:

Keep track (of everything)

Keep all notebooks

Keep a pencil on hand at all times

Keep all sources

Keep lists

Keep searching (never give up, and leave no stone unturned)

Keep loose papers in a box (the key to this one is to remember that you do actually have that box of loose papers. Doh!)

Keep FHL microfilm numbers for future reference

Keep everything on file (or in a large - archival safe - storage box)

Keep duplicates where relevant

Keep backing up work on a regular basis (don't rely solely on technology)

Keep your bookmarked websites for at least 12 months and edit/delete as relevant

Before I end this post, I must make a special (afterthought) reference to Kelly's Trade Directories. Bless you! I tip my hat off to you. My ancestral journey would be stale without you.

More importantly,

Sorry, couldn't resist! ;-)

Family History Through the Alphabet Challenge : G is for...

This week I am dedicating my Family History Through the Alphabet Challenge to my grandmother's gloves. That's a strange topic, you might say, but read on. There is a story to everything if you look closely enough.

  

My grandmother Lilian spent most of her life in poor health. As a young child she contracted tuberculosis, while bronchitis and asthma plagued her adulthood. Despite this, Lilian had a glamorous spirit and this is my fondest memory of her. She had style and she carried herself as though she possessed tons of it. Some may argue that she was above her station in life but I always liked that about her. She rose above her illness.

Lilian always wore gloves. She also smoked cigarettes from a black holder (which I tried to emulate once and only ended up looking like a right fool). She may not have been Audrey Hepburn either but, to me, she was pretty darn close to it. Every photograph I have of Lilian, taken at a family wedding, she is wearing gloves.

Lilian (left) and my Mother at a Family Wedding

She had many pairs in all lengths, styles and colours. When she passed away I was given a pair of her gloves and I still treasure them to this day. They are ruched at the wrist which is my favourite style of vintage gloves. I used to wear them in my younger years but nowadays they are kept in my treasure box for safe-keeping. Even my mother wore gloves well into her thirties. I remember she had a short navy blue pair which she always wore in the winter months when driving.

  

Lilian (right) with my Great-Grandmother
at a Family Wedding

The History of Gloves

While gloves have always had a practical nature they also began to develop symbolic meanings. It was good social etiquette when approaching a person of high authority to remove the right hand glove as a mark of respect. The same was also true for approaching an altar. A lady could show her affection or favouritism to a man by taking off her glove and offering her hand to him.

In Freemasonry the glove plays an important symbolic role. Freemasons believe that the glove alludes to the purification of life. They quote Psalm 24:4 from the Bible "He who has clean hands and a pure heart"

The tradition of wearing gloves for Holy Sacrament by Roman Catholic Bishops became a religious ritual and as early as the 10th century, to keep their hands clean, Popes, Cardinals and Bishops wore gloves. Kings began to wear gloves as part of their ceremonial duties and later as more of a fashionable accessory to display their position.

Copyright: © 2011 (Go Planet Gloves)

http://www.goleathergloves.com/history-of-gloves.htm 

My grandmother's gloves hold a very special meaning in my heart because my grandmother was special, and because I associate vintage gloves with her. Whenever I go to a vintage clothes market I feel as though I am stepping back in time and seeing my grandmother's world as she would have known and loved it. Gloves, hats, handbags, scarves, brooches, feathers, and long coats. Even through the London Blitz, my grandmother still held her head high. She really did "Keep Calm and Carry On".

  

My Grandmother's Gloves
Photography by Jeff Watkins
http://www.facebook.com/LabrugImages