Saved by a mistake ...

I've been doing a bit of background reading for my family tree writing.
I came across this information in a book called A Historie of London and Londoners.

The date was 1941
On December 7 Japan launched an unprovoked attack on Pearl harbour...America was now in the war allied with Britain  against the Japanese who had already attacked British forces in Asia. This n turn brought America into the European war against Germany Within months American forces were stationed in Britain for the duration
Britain had stood alone until now and was at the mercy of German forces that had already occupied the Channel Islands. Hitler. had put off the invasion of Britain to concentrate on Russia This turned out to be his biggest mistake, as he could have walked into Britain with little or no resistance. Had he done that America would never have been able to get a foothold in Europe to station their troops and air force.
Britain was saved by that simple mistake.

Looking for....

Well that wasn’t a very nice dream to wake up to.

Short version is I got lost…OK so those of you who know me  will be aware that I am geographically challenged….but that dream was ridiculous.

So ‘nuff said about that …

The man and I headed out to visit a local records office to look at some registers.

And it was very chilly out there too.

The good folks at the office informed me that I could have looked at them online on Ancestry…hmm so what next.

After some considerable mulling I looked at some maps and then some newspaper clippings about dockers then did a bit of reading around the lives of women.

By which time both of us were more than a tad peckish…so it was time to call it a day.

I did buy yet another book, about the working life of London’s East End, and an old ordinance survey map.

By the time we got back to Crystal palace it was getting dark, but it was only 1630.  So a quick trip to Iceland, the supermarket not the country, for essential supplies.

This evening I had a look on Ancestry and sure enough there were the parish registers I was hoping to look at this morning.  

Write on...

Today I’ve had a very interesting day.

Unusually I’ve been out without The Man, even if he had been able come with me he’d have been bored out of his tree.

I’ve been to the society of Genealogists rooms to part one of three day long sessions about writing family history. The next was in a couple of weeks and the third about four weeks after that. We’re not a big class and the 30  odd of us were divided up into groups of four.

I’ve been on writing courses before and enjoyed them, but this one is specifically aimed at turning all our dry dusty genealogy information into a readable and hopefully entertaining thing.

Apart from talking about structure and showing not telling we had a couple of exercises to write then read out to the others at our table and have them critique it.

The first one to was write a small piece introducing one of our ancestors.

He was my mother’s father Herbert Henry Hall.  He was my moustachioed grandfather who never refused my request to be read to. He was also the only grandfather I knew. But he was other things too.

He was a merchant seaman. I still find it hard to associate the much younger image of him wearing a flat cap and standing on the steps of New Zealand’s Nelson Cathedral with his crew mates from the ship Port Kembla.

He was a stoker, a noisy dirty sweaty job that was part of the power that drove the ship.

In September 1917, the date written across the bottom of the postcard the Port Kembla hit a German laid mine and sank. Importantly there was no loss of life.

After lunch we had another writing session, this time the tutor asked us to write about the ‘prompt’ that we had been asked to bring with us.

The sepia tinted photograph is a postcard. Iron framed beds, corners neatly mitred run down either side of this ward in the Edmonton Military Hospital. The patients are all casualties of what became known as The Great War, WWII, though there is nothing great about war.  It dates to about 1915 -16 the time that my paternal grandfather was wounded and probably invalided out of the army.

Just three of the beds are occupied by what look like pyjama clad men. The remainder of the inmates wear the hospital ‘uniform’, trousers and jackets in what looks like a fits all size as some of the trouser and jacket cuffs are turned up. The men are also neatly attired in shirts and ties.

Only the three capped and long aproned nurses are smiling.

From the right of the postcard the long thin face of George Arthur Harvey, my paternal grandfather, looks solemnly at the camera. Behind him against the wall is a pair of crutches Are they his I wonder.  I remember Mum telling me that his wounded ankle never healed properly leaving him with what sounded like ulcers that needed to be dressed daily. 

A bit of a ramble...

It’s no easy thing to write something for the blog every day, day after day. And some days like today the muse has not shown up so I am just going to have to wing it.

Yesterday evening after I’d published I set about trying to figure out how to order, online, the death certificates of The Man’s father and paternal grandfather.

OK yes I have to put my hand up and say that I do have copies of them already, but unfortunately they are  back at home in the lock up along with all our other belongings.

I went on to the NZDF website and discovered that as both of the men were born more than 80 years ago it is an easy matter of just requesting them and paying for them.

The good thing is that I will receive copies of them in an email.

So what do I want them for?

I want to order their military records. It’s much easier to do than it was getting my Dad’s British military record that took almost a year to arrive.

And another good thing is that from the NZDF the first order in a year will be free. So I will order one and The Man will too. 

It’s just a matter of waiting for the copies of the death certificates to verify their deaths nd then I can apply.   

The Man’s grandfather served with The New Zealand Expeditionary Force  (NZDF) and his father with the NZ Army, though when he got to England with the army he was seconded to the air force, or so the story goes.

Guess I’ll just have to be patient.

wet sunday...

What better way to start a wet Sunday than a sleep in followed by breakfast cooked and served by The Man. Nomnomnom.

He’s got bacon and eggs down to a fine art.

Yes it is a wet Sunday, just as well we went out yesterday.

We had a bit of a change around yesterday, putting that bookcase we scored to good use. I unpacked the books and papers off the little shelf unit that we already had thinking that we’d put the taller one there. My mum would have said ‘you know what thought thought…’

Yup you guessed it the smaller shelf unit is back in its original place and the newer taller on is on the opposite wall. Now all nicely stacked up with books. It’s good to have a bit of space on the shelves to for our collection of shells and nick knacks.

So we have had a nice quiet day in, well we did nip around to the supermarket late this afternoon to top up with a  few essentials but it had stopped raining by then.

I spent several hours online granny hunting and was rewarded by being able to add another set of great great grandparents, on Dad’s side, to the slowly growing tree.

I meant to share this with you the other day, but got side tracked…easy for me…

The Man recounted the story about how he was in a hardware store collecting something for work. Ahead of him at the counter was a pretty twenty something long legged beauty She was having problems with mice and not wanting to set traps to kill the little furry beasties was seeking advice she commented that she was really scared that one would hop into bed with her. The Man’s comment was ‘Lucky Mouse’  Both the long legged beauty and The Man went their separate ways smiling I’m sure,  for entirely different reasons

A quiet day in ...

Out dammed lurgey…out I say…

And did it listen to me…not really

But I do feel a bit better this afternoon.

The Man and I have had a quiet day in…pretty unusual for us I know,

But occasionally we do need a quiet day.

Outside it is a bit cool and what I would describe as a black and white day, well that is how it seems to be to me. 

A monochromatic day. You know all thick low clouds, the light very diffuse so there are no shadows.

OK so I am rambling on a bit …that’s cos I really don’t have much to say today.

This morning our time, and this evening New Zealand time we Skype chatted to our oldest grandson. He’s about to turn nineteen. And where did those years go I ask you…

It’s a much repeated phrase in our house.

Seems like only yesterday I was packing my bag to head to Masterton, where daughter and son-in-law were living.

Being at a birth is a truly incredible experience.

It really is exceptionally hard to describe the elation when a new person enters the world. One of life’s miracles.

When you consider that during the 40 weeks prior he started out as no more than a couple of cells that began dividing and dividing. Differentiating themselves into organs and bones, blood and skin. Having accomplished their marvellous work  somehow setting off labour that announced the imminent birth.

OK so I got a bit carried way there, but it is a truly remarkable thing don’t you think?

Having a nineteen year old grandson makes me feel a bit old, and that kind of statement always take me back to my father’s words when oldest daughter turned twenty one. I commented that having a daughter that age made me feel old; his reply was ‘Well if it makes you feel old, how do you think it makes me feel?’

He was a lovely man my Dad and he is sorely missed. I am sure he would be very proud of all his great gandees. I know that The Man and I are proud of them all