tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8435206385587082922024-03-13T02:50:17.062+00:00Family History SecretsSharing discoveries in family history Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-57358662901849349212018-06-17T12:55:00.000+01:002018-06-17T12:55:25.172+01:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you haven't checked out my new<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">"Bite-size Blog"</span></a> </span></b>yet, you might like to nip across and have a look at some of the latest <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/categories/family-history" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Family History</span></a> </span></b>posts.<br />
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There's a <a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/unravelling-the-ww2-mystery" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>World War Two mystery</b></span></a> surrounding an alleged secret visit by Winston Churchill to the house where my grandparents worked...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJxj2g5_2GwOD4MHzZ1rJmK5E7o15-N90FqBHW3g27krNjpqMSRvkJD33N0drjrr_bcNyRiWX9RpHm8koMlMRoEXVZ2q7gThlIrj3ZKx56T18n8a4tCTi1dYwZrm4mObCDPR9zHAizQxO/s1600/Jack+Griffiths%252C+1936.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="339" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJxj2g5_2GwOD4MHzZ1rJmK5E7o15-N90FqBHW3g27krNjpqMSRvkJD33N0drjrr_bcNyRiWX9RpHm8koMlMRoEXVZ2q7gThlIrj3ZKx56T18n8a4tCTi1dYwZrm4mObCDPR9zHAizQxO/s400/Jack+Griffiths%252C+1936.BMP" width="205" /></a></div>
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There's the terrifying story of my mum's lucky escape from a <a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/terror-of-a-ww2-bomb-was-jack-to-blame" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>WW2 bomb which landed at the bottom of her bed</b></span></a>.... Was it all the fault of her grandfather, Jack?<br />
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There's the <a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/opening-a-can-of-worms" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>can of worms</b></span></a> I open up when I decide it really is about time to get a full copy of my birth certificate instead of the "short version" I've only ever had until now..<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnkemaZ8sGqpsCOsBv7o30qJ_5IX4o92HM_DSE38ScCDTPtvZvkacJYM-g9m_PPYO5gQlMA9kbuge30Ibzx2-M3S0gxhF_XNE0HCtkyGBPQeyPXBTZ-j8NICZu2nkoUIFvOonQxIqirlf/s1600/George+Diggory+%2526+Ethel+Price%2527s+wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1004" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnkemaZ8sGqpsCOsBv7o30qJ_5IX4o92HM_DSE38ScCDTPtvZvkacJYM-g9m_PPYO5gQlMA9kbuge30Ibzx2-M3S0gxhF_XNE0HCtkyGBPQeyPXBTZ-j8NICZu2nkoUIFvOonQxIqirlf/s400/George+Diggory+%2526+Ethel+Price%2527s+wedding.jpg" width="250" /></a><br />
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And there's the story of<span style="color: #990000;"><b> <a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/poor-old-george" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">Poor Old George</span></a></b></span>, my great uncle, whose WW1 injury seems to have been overlooked in the family history memories, in favour of his brother's...<br />
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You'll also find other posts, too, about <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/categories/books" target="_blank"><span style="color: #990000;">books I've read</span></a> </span></b>and how family history inspires my <a href="https://www.wendypercival.co.uk/blog/categories/writing" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #990000;">writing</span></b></a>!<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-73321502494223349692018-03-19T16:18:00.000+00:002018-08-17T15:06:06.719+01:00An abundance of stories - and the new bite-size blog!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Scandal, bigamy, double lives, tragedy, mystery, criminality – I've uncovered them all, and more, in the four years I've been writing this blog about my family history research. (And if this is your first visit here, please click on the list of previous posts on the right hand side of this page to read more about those intriguing stories!)<br />
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Choosing what to write about from the vast array of potential subjects can be almost impossible. And then when you <i>do</i> decide, as I mentioned in a recent post, the gaps of knowledge become suddenly obvious, sending you scurrying off in all directions to dig around for more information in order to tell a complete story. Before you realise it, a task which you thought would take moments to put together, has expanded into several days' work!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUG6xl-VzaVqlx1kgoBJYg7hrNIASBI8JF_NcDy5lIPdhh-q-RbIYNciPnqJDq8Sg0ibosEw1Ln177W-dOSXSyL-4aJs9v7kwJjoAwXjcAkSDjatO20bDHJYDV2yxuqB_mrTvJdVqubCl/s1600/Leatherett+pouch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUG6xl-VzaVqlx1kgoBJYg7hrNIASBI8JF_NcDy5lIPdhh-q-RbIYNciPnqJDq8Sg0ibosEw1Ln177W-dOSXSyL-4aJs9v7kwJjoAwXjcAkSDjatO20bDHJYDV2yxuqB_mrTvJdVqubCl/s320/Leatherett+pouch.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Hotch-potch files</span></h3>
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The result of this rather ad-hoc approach to family history research is that it creates a hotch-potch collection of files, some bulging at the seams with information and others with very slim pickings.<br />
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So I've decided that 2018 is going to be the year in which I tackle this imbalance. I intend to put all the stories I've uncovered into some semblance of order and to identify those branches with glaring gaps, adding in any research I can do along the way. There's nothing like starting a new year with a sense of purpose, is there?<br />
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Also on my hit list, are my most recent acquisitions left by my late dad – boxes of 35 mm slide photos, a pile of photograph albums, Scouting memorabilia, badges, postcards, jewellery, old passports, driving licences, letters, hotel receipts, theatre programmes, newspaper cuttings and scribbled notes. And, as you may imagine, I have my own personal memories to add to the stories represented by all these fabulous resources.<br />
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I've already made a start in this department by scanning in slides of little 'ole me in the early 1960s, as you can see below! There are still plenty more years yet to do, though...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-WygjvA_rltDAmxmahmxYVpLp4LPcg89R9sCueawxKY1EAi6CRZYZiwdq-9fCSgHyEl9OrvoR8ylYaCT97lcB3U18UbA1MYn7EeoazIB0URnA0jrKUnRVnWlnonEkAAQ7w5D6Fx45qn9/s1600/1961+me%252C+Dad+%2526+Mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="573" data-original-width="1600" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0-WygjvA_rltDAmxmahmxYVpLp4LPcg89R9sCueawxKY1EAi6CRZYZiwdq-9fCSgHyEl9OrvoR8ylYaCT97lcB3U18UbA1MYn7EeoazIB0URnA0jrKUnRVnWlnonEkAAQ7w5D6Fx45qn9/s640/1961+me%252C+Dad+%2526+Mom.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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So while I'm browsing my archives, and, inevitably, following trails inspired by the discovery of old photographs, letters and documents, rather than wait for the full story's conclusion, why not come along with me and share the intriguing puzzles and clues along the way by looking in on my new "BITE-SIZE" blog on my website?<br />
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Just click on the link below the typewriter to see what I'm up to... See you there!<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-38201693647342299542017-12-12T09:00:00.000+00:002017-12-12T09:00:33.203+00:00A year of mysteries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eifKCDICEu3T-NGRo5Quxrq9rADOibVwRpM2rWqTq6kI05-VYlAMyt7EntpoU3dgaBjSBz0MB_vhRQcB25sxCLqn38sbxpXQILFncf9pS_WkQcAqgqs-l6QSZuzQknzuX2-sIPUIIpPE/s1600/Merry+Christmas+band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="1600" height="88" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eifKCDICEu3T-NGRo5Quxrq9rADOibVwRpM2rWqTq6kI05-VYlAMyt7EntpoU3dgaBjSBz0MB_vhRQcB25sxCLqn38sbxpXQILFncf9pS_WkQcAqgqs-l6QSZuzQknzuX2-sIPUIIpPE/s320/Merry+Christmas+band.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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With Christmas around the corner, it's that time of year when we peer over our shoulders to look back at the months past. And glancing through my blog posts, I'm actually quite pleased at the one or two mysteries I've solved in 2017.<br />
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First, the <a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/06/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>mystery Mr Vincent</b></span>,</a> was finally unmasked. Not that I'm much closer to finding out <i>why </i>his photograph was amongst my family snaps, mind you, but it's still good to know who he is.<br />
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I still have a theory that he may have some association with the story about my great aunt and a lost love but unless I find someone to verify the connection, I fear it'll always be one of those unsolvable mysteries, on which I can only speculate. Which is a shame. But I shall keep trundling on. You never know...<br />
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January saw the "finding" of missing brothers,<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b> <a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Charles Alfred Baker</span></a></b></span> and <a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/03/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Edward Ernest Baker</b></span></a>, whose father, <b>Charles Gabriel Baker</b> had travelled to Australia in 1867 in the hope of a future in the colony, only for tragedy to strike when he died of consumption within 6 months of arrival.<br />
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When their mother <b>Susan Baker</b> returned to England after her husband's death, the four brothers were separated and I'd only managed to track the two younger boys... until this year, when I was contacted by a descendant of Charles junior and I discovered the elder brothers' fascinating story, involving desertion from the navy and jumping ship in Rio de Janeiro!<br />
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But there's still plenty of work left to do. For instance, why did my grandfather<b> Herbert Colley </b><a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/02/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>post the banns of his wedding</b></span></a>, <i>twice</i>, to a lady he never did marry? What was the book that <a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/09/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Mr Baker was holding in his hand</b></span></a> in that photograph of 1865? And what <i>did </i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/11/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Uncle Theo</span></a> </b></span>do in WW1? And that's only three questions. I'm sure many more will surface in the coming months.<br />
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For now, though, I'd like to update you on a previous post concerning the <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/05/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Mystery Percivals</span></a> </b></span>and the fascinating book charting the history of the Northampton branch of the Percival family (no relation, as far as I can tell).<br />
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I was recently contacted by the son of <b>Brigadier E L Percival</b>, a co-author of <b>The Percival Book</b>, after a member of the family had stumbled upon my blog. He told me that <b>Lady Percival</b>, who, at 92 had been the oldest member at the reunion mentioned in a paper inside the book, had gone on to reach her 100th birthday.<br />
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By a strange coincidence he lives in Devon, less than an hour away from where I live! We have exchanged emails and I plan to reunite him with his family's book at some point in the near future, which seems only appropriate.<br />
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Well, on that comforting thought, I've just time to thank you for dropping in on my blog. </div>
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I hope you'll visit again soon to discover what family secrets I unearth and which mysteries I manage to solve in 2018.</div>
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Meanwhile, I'll wish you...</div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS and a PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR. </span></b></div>
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-21809118623206648022017-11-11T09:17:00.000+00:002017-11-12T09:46:03.857+00:00WW1 stories – the mysterious Uncle TheoSomeone said during Twitter's <a href="http://www.ancestryhour.co.uk/" target="_blank">#AncestryHour</a> recently that writing a blog post often took her a long time as information gaps suddenly opened up in front of her, sending her digging around looking for answers. This post was definitely one of those!<br />
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With <b>Armistice Day </b>almost upon upon us, I thought I'd pull up what I could about the Percival <b>WW1 </b>ancestors. I had two potential leads – my husband's grandfather, <b>Hector Percival</b>, and Hector's brother <b>Theodore</b>. I decided to start with Theodore, not least because he's always been a bit of a mystery – and we all know what fun a mystery is!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBfVYdIOeEECz3Ll44VGioMUeItsI5aa-PLYBl1_Q2JJAWiseqASWJ8cDhp0NYc1MWIBHDwWibpaPr_RLVp2bj0jhcNVLs4JgLjokZfKyD8GtX-rG5aIRhqjvVvOXPfHdUZ7vocjpUzMy/s1600/Dennis+Percival+and+Theodore+%2528poss%2529+1918+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="546" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZBfVYdIOeEECz3Ll44VGioMUeItsI5aa-PLYBl1_Q2JJAWiseqASWJ8cDhp0NYc1MWIBHDwWibpaPr_RLVp2bj0jhcNVLs4JgLjokZfKyD8GtX-rG5aIRhqjvVvOXPfHdUZ7vocjpUzMy/s320/Dennis+Percival+and+Theodore+%2528poss%2529+1918+%25281%2529.jpg" width="216" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Uncle Theo</span></h3>
We believe the photograph on the left of the man wearing Navy uniform is "Uncle Theo". It's dated 1918. The little boy behind him is my husband's father, Dennis, aged 4.<br />
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Despite what seems like this hard evidence of Theo's navy career, his name doesn't appear in any of the Navy's records I've looked at so far. Not all WW1 records survived. Many were lost during the bombings in WW2, so this may be why his are missing.<br />
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Of course it could mean that this isn't Theo but we do know that he did have naval connections – firstly because of what I've recently uncovered about his line of work and secondly because of the location of his death.<br />
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Theo was born in <b>Clacton-on-Sea</b>, in Essex in 1892, the younger son of <b>Shadrack and Mary Ann Percival</b>.<br />
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On the 1911 census, he's listed as an apprentice engineer. You may be able to make out the "visitor" on the census return – <b>Dorothy Mary Tate</b>. This is the woman Theodore would marry four years later.<br />
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But for some reason, they couple tied the knot in Northampton. Not only that, but neither of Theo's parents were witnesses on the marriage certificate, suggesting they didn't attend the wedding.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeU-1Vupy-zMUOhnsDyfkxlnfBzXzbYOY2A1z-lsTnmvCd2apHrfndE6z_OzPNNryHkBObTyEWO2QLJwM7UQgCUSxcXLRIEJa_MlqYBsrRKY-ZK2udosI1Cnw7hlkuYGLQ2BYbkr6MNSt/s1600/1911+census.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="108" data-original-width="1106" height="62" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzeU-1Vupy-zMUOhnsDyfkxlnfBzXzbYOY2A1z-lsTnmvCd2apHrfndE6z_OzPNNryHkBObTyEWO2QLJwM7UQgCUSxcXLRIEJa_MlqYBsrRKY-ZK2udosI1Cnw7hlkuYGLQ2BYbkr6MNSt/s640/1911+census.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">courtesy of Ancestry.co.uk</td></tr>
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I'm not aware of any connection that either Theo or Dorothy had to Northampton, so perhaps Theo was working there. He's living in Forfar Street, at the same address as his witnesses, and his occupation is recorded as "mechanical engineering draftsman". Dorothy's address is in Middlesex, so no obvious link there.<br />
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Did the war influence their decision to marry?<br />
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In autumn of that year, 1915, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Derby_Scheme" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>The Derby Scheme</b></span></a>, was introduced, which assessed whether the fighting force's needs could be met by volunteers alone. Any men not volunteering would have to attest to being in an "essential" occupation. The anticipated plan caused a surge in recruitment as men preferred to avoid the ignominy of being "fetched" to serve their country.<br />
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As Theo and Dorothy married by licence, perhaps Theo had decided to join up at this time, and it was for logistical and expediency reasons they chose the location. Perhaps it was too difficult for Theo's parents to travel to Northampton.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuiGtL7E5wwUrHGIH71zdhuhzOmsKWaBKMKZOVrNWhOD4Lt9iZD6mJvlmR4KytK8Bs1t5Z275tcr0NzTlef7BVF1oe-QsIDz_nY-tpji_VjHHQYWSE5A66EjQcTz9El0E3Wjal-PIR3kW/s1600/Marriage+cert+Theodore+Percival001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1135" data-original-width="1600" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuiGtL7E5wwUrHGIH71zdhuhzOmsKWaBKMKZOVrNWhOD4Lt9iZD6mJvlmR4KytK8Bs1t5Z275tcr0NzTlef7BVF1oe-QsIDz_nY-tpji_VjHHQYWSE5A66EjQcTz9El0E3Wjal-PIR3kW/s320/Marriage+cert+Theodore+Percival001.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="color: #cc0000;">Marriage certificate anomaly</span> </h3>
A bizarre anomaly appears on the couple's marriage certificate. Shadrack's occupation is recorded as "architect" when in fact he was a postman. A transcription error? Or some other reason? I've always wondered whether Theo was trying to imply his origins were a little further up the social scale than they really were, not least because <b>Northampton</b> was the location of a more affluent branch of Percivals. As far as I know there's no direct link on the tree but perhaps Theo had aspirations!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNMCg1CC4WJyAaFY-Z4oSbeYe4GXG-wPXoXBVCf1_W4Ha8UUmh8bjX35BjNvfkdmNJwiB5eH89ugySfHbfxWhTW2okFDmkxcSOwkj2NZQY2fAhorqNB5JIyw4bQFxVisxlFvUQHWuDWuT/s1600/1939+Register.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="683" height="76" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNMCg1CC4WJyAaFY-Z4oSbeYe4GXG-wPXoXBVCf1_W4Ha8UUmh8bjX35BjNvfkdmNJwiB5eH89ugySfHbfxWhTW2okFDmkxcSOwkj2NZQY2fAhorqNB5JIyw4bQFxVisxlFvUQHWuDWuT/s320/1939+Register.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© crown copyright courtesy of Findmypast</td></tr>
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And so back to Theo's naval connections and a big jump ahead. It's his occupation recorded on the <b>1939 Register </b>on <a href="https://www.findmypast.co.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Findmypas</b>t</span></a>, which shows an interesting link with the Navy.<br />
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Theo, Dorothy and their 2 children, Enid born in 1917 and John born in 1919, are living in Bexhill, Essex at this time. Theo's work concurs with his engineering background and he's recorded as being a <i>Supervisor on the design of the Director of Fire control of <b>naval</b> ordnance. </i><br />
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From online conversations with other family historians via<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/425557924298176/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Facebook's Ancestry & Genealogy Discussion Group</span></a></b></span>, I've learned that this was a <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naval_Ordnance_Department" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Whitehall Department</span></a>.</b></span> Two passenger records from 1933 show that Theo travelled to Argentina, accompanied by two engineering colleagues, suggesting that his trip was work related. I wonder what he went to South America to do? Another avenue of research to follow!<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Theo's death</span></h3>
One more leap ahead to Theodore's death which took place in 1966 and another naval connection is confirmed by his death certificate. He died of heart attack in the <a href="http://seahospital.org.uk/history-shs/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Seamen's Hospital in Greenwich</b></span></a>, a service set up many years before specifically to benefit <b>naval servicemen</b>.<br />
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While Theo's WW1 service remains a mystery, at least I seem to have stumbled upon his contribution during WW2. But it's a huge gap between that 1918 photograph of him in uniform and 1939. There's still a lot more yet to uncover about the mystery of Uncle Theo!<br />
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Useful websites for WW1 research:</div>
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<a href="http://www.longlongtrail.co.uk/">http://www.longlongtrail.co.uk/</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/first-world-war/">http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/first-world-war/</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.greatwar.co.uk/">http://www.greatwar.co.uk/</a></div>
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-83955685165073415052017-10-12T08:30:00.000+01:002017-10-12T08:30:04.380+01:00The dark sideThe wonderful BBC TV comedy<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span></b><i><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b007tlxv" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Dad's Army</span></b></a> </i>may have left us with an impression that WW2's <b>Home Guard</b> was a group of bungling amateurs and a bit of a joke, but during my research for the latest Esme Quentin novel, <i><b><a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/the-malice-of-angels/4594062550" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Malice of Angels</span></a></b></i>, I discovered there was a much darker and deadlier side to our <b>Local Defence Volunteers </b>as they were originally called.<br />
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My grandfather, <b>Ernest 'George' Shelley </b>served in the <b>Home Guard</b> and I have his "Certificate of Proficiency" and the associated badge.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaGuZVhgyheEESTYNhd1rJ1hw9wXDw5xU2e8K16-E3CEAzFWkJwjtGx86K3o13eDH6MFgd_XMTe2FC2nSMVqkLfTl2iSM7cHgl26kz_QrswVl5MS9JAJKuqwJDmARn3n1ZNulM9OXN6FJ/s1600/IMG-1185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbaGuZVhgyheEESTYNhd1rJ1hw9wXDw5xU2e8K16-E3CEAzFWkJwjtGx86K3o13eDH6MFgd_XMTe2FC2nSMVqkLfTl2iSM7cHgl26kz_QrswVl5MS9JAJKuqwJDmARn3n1ZNulM9OXN6FJ/s320/IMG-1185.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiBOIOHVJhdlagll8RrjR5xicQ9k2zG3NwbDhq3HWmj59jQHf9fJsjIE_C8pq3M7bO7CSuU-d2G-jBmGmiDfFPq7ogafszBSfNOhjnmdCLm9ZqgvjrNcCbekrhQuev9yTRiawr-6RY6uI/s1600/Home+Guard+form+E+G+Shelley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1135" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyiBOIOHVJhdlagll8RrjR5xicQ9k2zG3NwbDhq3HWmj59jQHf9fJsjIE_C8pq3M7bO7CSuU-d2G-jBmGmiDfFPq7ogafszBSfNOhjnmdCLm9ZqgvjrNcCbekrhQuev9yTRiawr-6RY6uI/s400/Home+Guard+form+E+G+Shelley.jpg" width="282" /></a><br />
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The form certifies that Granddad was proficient in using a rifle and a grenade – no doubt from his previous military experience during WW1, as was the case with many members of the <b>Home Guard.</b> It also notes his ability to use a <b>B.A.R</b>., the<b> Browning Automatic Rifle</b> issued to the <b>Home Guard</b> at the time.</div>
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The <i>Dad's Army </i>image did have some element of truth to it, however. There were weapons shortages and volunteers were forced to practice drill using whatever they had to hand, including brooms and golf clubs!</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">The secret army</span></h3>
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But as well as this visible force, there was another covert group of individuals, ready to become a thorn in the side of the enemy should the worst happen and Britain be invaded by Germany. These were the auxiliaries, trained in the sort of guerrilla and sabotage tactics being undertaken by secret agents in occupied Europe.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunker's secret entrance<br />© Copyright <a href="http://www.geograph.org.uk/profile/24241" property="cc:attributionName" rel="cc:attributionURL dct:creator" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, serif; font-size: 14.4px;" title="View profile" xmlns:cc="http://creativecommons.org/ns#">James T M Towill</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, serif; font-size: 14.4px;"> </span></td></tr>
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Hiding places, along with ammunition stores, were created all over the country, unknown to even the local population. If invasion happened, these trained men would retreat to their hide-outs, ready to disrupt the activities of the enemy at every opportunity.</div>
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Fortunately for Britain, they were never needed and such places were dismantled after the war. </div>
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One such example has been recreated on the Coleshill estate in Oxfordshire, owned by the National Trust.</div>
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You can take a peep inside the bunker shortly before it opened to the public in 2012, courtesy of a BBC camera crew, by clicking <b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/av/uk-england-oxfordshire-19609509/coleshill-world-war-ii-bunker-tells-story-of-auxiliers" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">HERE</span></a> </span></b></div>
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The video also includes an interview with Bob Millard, who served as an auxiliary during the war when he was a teenager.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJcW7aJepEj10-ZbwYqTknfkUUZImeGxbZQSmSMleckoeBVgqXbi3B7Cmo-sDYewGHkUQDa1SQYEApdPQdE91RNjl_tJyBQgdP_nC0DOuRZ-llHfb-MFtXhM9koR4zCTLCypB5DswYqv6/s1600/Cover+image+Malice+300dpiRGB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/the-malice-of-angels/4594062550" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1042" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJcW7aJepEj10-ZbwYqTknfkUUZImeGxbZQSmSMleckoeBVgqXbi3B7Cmo-sDYewGHkUQDa1SQYEApdPQdE91RNjl_tJyBQgdP_nC0DOuRZ-llHfb-MFtXhM9koR4zCTLCypB5DswYqv6/s320/Cover+image+Malice+300dpiRGB.jpg" title="The Malice of Angels" width="208" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/the-malice-of-angels/4594062550" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: small;">THE MALICE OF ANGELS</span></a></b></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Plot inspiration</span></h3>
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I can't imagine my grandfather was a member of this clandestine group – at least, I've found no evidence so far! – but I still found the story about the auxiliaries fascinating. </div>
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I discovered that there'd been a hiding place very near to where I used to live and a secret ammunition store only a few hundred yards away. </div>
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Research into the activities of this secret group stirred in my writer's brain and found its way into the plot of <a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/the-malice-of-angels/4594062550" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>The Malice of Angels</i>. </span></b></a></div>
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If you're keen to find out in what way such secrets from the past impact on Esme's story, then click on the title to learn more.</div>
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An excellent book which tells the story of Britain's Secret Resistance, is <b><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Ditch-Britains-Resistance-Invasion/dp/1848327196/ref=pd_cp_14_1?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=RNGV5XYXTSWAA74MAQ4H" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">THE LAST DITCH</span></a></b>, by<b> David Lampe</b></div>
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Another, telling the true stories of the West Country at war, is<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"> <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/South-West-Secret-Agents-Stories-ebook/dp/B00JD09LSK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1507632861&sr=1-1&keywords=south+west+secret+agents" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;">SOUTH WEST SECRET AGENTS</span></a> </span></b>, by <b>Laura Quigley</b></div>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-2902762313526944832017-09-12T10:18:00.000+01:002017-09-12T10:18:05.993+01:00The mysterious Mr BakerYou know how it is – the photo album full of photos and no names. But how about this? A named photograph, of a <b>Mr Baker</b> (yes, great, it matches the family name) but which one? There seemed to be none who fit. Or perhaps there is...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqvVMNZr-f_Qy1JVdzUH8oCdZuaVB86idGmx-Q987jyMl3t1sWeeGT5Ln5NGQ02arNbwKypqSfEVCa1PAoer8sHDTgBPtB6R2LDWGwDYZEg07ePr7j0unpAempnLfoYgnUVw_c8uLE4H7/s1600/Mr+Baker+1865.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqvVMNZr-f_Qy1JVdzUH8oCdZuaVB86idGmx-Q987jyMl3t1sWeeGT5Ln5NGQ02arNbwKypqSfEVCa1PAoer8sHDTgBPtB6R2LDWGwDYZEg07ePr7j0unpAempnLfoYgnUVw_c8uLE4H7/s400/Mr+Baker+1865.jpg" width="235" /></a><br />
<br />
According to a very useful website I learned about recently called <a href="http://www.photolondon.org.uk/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>photolondon.org.uk </b></span></a>, this photo was taken in 1865, when the photographic company who printed it were in operation at the address cited on the back.<br />
<br />
Assuming the photograph was taken around the same time as it was printed, it <i>should</i> be easy enough to identify him. But therein lies a problem. I find it extremely difficult with old photos to guess ages accurately.<br />
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Apparently, I'm not alone. From the response I've had asking other family historians, it seems we tend to see our ancestors in photographs as being much older than they really are, so, at my estimate of around 40 years, I could be way off the mark.<br />
<br />
As soon as I realised that, I got quite excited as it may mean that, perhaps, I <i>can</i> match him to someone on the tree, after all.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Mystery document</span></h3>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
You'll notice that the gentleman in question is holding some sort of book or major document in his hand. Has the photograph has been taken to mark the occasion of the document's publication, perhaps? But what could it be?<br />
<br />
I decided to enlist the help of my fellow family historians on <b>Twitter</b> and amongst the responses, I received two surprises.<br />
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Firstly, the general consensus was that <b>Mr Baker </b>was younger than my estimate and so could conceivably be the man I hoped. And the other was the comment that he looked like a <i>"typical Victorian composer"</i> and suggesting that the document was a music score.<br />
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That was music to my ears (ouch! sorry...) as my hope was that this was a photograph of <b>Charles Gabriel Baker</b>, the professor of music who travelled to <b>Australia</b> but sadly died of consumption, aged only 32 (read the article I wrote for<span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span><b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="https://www.family-tree.co.uk/">Family Tree</a></span></i> </span></b>magazine about his story <a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/articles/4593520155"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>HERE</b></span></a>).<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Teacher training</span></h3>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
It seemed as good a prompt as any to explore more about his journey to becoming a music professor. Where had he learned his profession? Having been born in Marylebone, could it have been at one of the prestigious music colleges in London?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCCJ5cGxSTLSVpucAVRWzJYF9HGL_1ex-t9vjvrqvyqIp3dzz8Kd76gGJ-2IzcEW68MLXLVFNpG7VQ8wf8AAiv0I8iXccIPTJdv7mIepuF-Vs4cfoM95QQwXOtq9zTvtDEJQAT1aeR5nA/s1600/Snippet+from+census.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="58" data-original-width="641" height="35" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCCJ5cGxSTLSVpucAVRWzJYF9HGL_1ex-t9vjvrqvyqIp3dzz8Kd76gGJ-2IzcEW68MLXLVFNpG7VQ8wf8AAiv0I8iXccIPTJdv7mIepuF-Vs4cfoM95QQwXOtq9zTvtDEJQAT1aeR5nA/s400/Snippet+from+census.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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I knew Charles had begun his teaching career as a pupil teacher, as he's listed as such on the 1851 census. By the time of his marriage to Susan Sawyer in 1856, he's a fully fledged school teacher and by 1861, he's calling himself a professor of music. So what about the years in between being a pupil teacher and working as a teacher when he got married?<br />
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I made enquiries of the <b>Royal Academy of Music</b>, in Marylebone and the library assistant kindly checked her records but found nothing. She did explain, however, that the terminology of "professor" could be used quite freely and may be just another interpretation of "teacher." She suggested that I contact the <b>Royal College of Music</b> to see if my man attended there.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A fantastic find</span></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIltj-7nxafgdbr6oGss4BobbN4TnAUoZjrwAkF_zsQSBhWqW8lZrO6DT_utY-9cTb8058BywkaZfM_KCoghyphenhypheneSqGsOvrxOsTQWMfD_XG1iBg1uVMlE3mKoQc6ZmC2Ea5dDRdOBDaWgg6/s1600/Page+from+edition+of+The+National+Society%2527s+report+on+teacher+training+exams+1854.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="441" data-original-width="413" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNIltj-7nxafgdbr6oGss4BobbN4TnAUoZjrwAkF_zsQSBhWqW8lZrO6DT_utY-9cTb8058BywkaZfM_KCoghyphenhypheneSqGsOvrxOsTQWMfD_XG1iBg1uVMlE3mKoQc6ZmC2Ea5dDRdOBDaWgg6/s400/Page+from+edition+of+The+National+Society%2527s+report+on+teacher+training+exams+1854.JPG" width="371" /></a></div>
But I never got that far, because on a whim, I googled Charles Gabriel Baker and to my astonishment, I found his name in a book published by <b>The National Society</b> – what a find!<br />
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<b>The National Society</b> was established in 1811 to promote, "<i>the Education of the Poor in the Principles of the Established Church in England and Wales"</i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px;"><i> </i></span></span>resulting in the setting up of the well known<b> National Schools</b> across the country.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSq3-8iVEhdsHiG8XX-gSltQyM3r5t_mck22WPbbJ0MePlTuKAXSPVYiK4U_y2tTbmoRF12S6Tc6BCo6eX2zZ6ehiGR0vVWcbW72qu2pwqG2KzA2XcRr1AweKLhndpk5cUilsi81vFTom/s1600/St+Mark%2527s+College%252C+Chelsea+%2528copyright+expired%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="500" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHSq3-8iVEhdsHiG8XX-gSltQyM3r5t_mck22WPbbJ0MePlTuKAXSPVYiK4U_y2tTbmoRF12S6Tc6BCo6eX2zZ6ehiGR0vVWcbW72qu2pwqG2KzA2XcRr1AweKLhndpk5cUilsi81vFTom/s320/St+Mark%2527s+College%252C+Chelsea+%2528copyright+expired%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St Mark's College, Chelsea</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Naturally, this endeavour required school teachers and so the society purchased <b>Stanley House</b> on the King's Road in Chelsea and founded <b>St Mark's College</b> for teacher training in 1841, which would later merge with St John's college in 1923 and move to Plymouth in the 1970s (now known as <span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="https://www.marjon.ac.uk/"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Plymouth Marjon</span></b></a>).</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
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Charles was one of their trainee teachers and the book I'd stumbled across was their publication listing examination results of the year 1854, when Charles was in his second year. It doesn't look as though he was an A1 student, though, as his name appears under the list entitled, <i>Third Class. </i><br />
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Students joined the college between the ages of 15 to 17 and if they passed their three month probation, they began their teacher training apprenticeship. Training took three years and, as well as the religious side of college life – the core of <b>The National Society</b>'s ethos – a diverse range of topics were covered, in addition to general education, such as the industrial system, the business of male servants in the house, managing the farm produce, and gardening. So, no mention of music. Perhaps Charles's music talents were already established via some other influence or had yet to be discovered?<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Poignant</span></h3>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
It was fascinating to add more to Charles's story, even though we know that fate was to deal him a cruel blow and that his teaching career, and indeed his life, would be cut short.<br />
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It would be lovely to think that the photograph really <i>is</i> of him. He looks like a friendly soul, don't you think? And that document – could it be a piece of music? He certainly looks very proud of it! Perhaps it will be one of those things we'll never find out.<br />
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Maybe you have ancestors who trained at St Mark's college, Chelsea. You can check in <b><a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=7LIEAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false"><span style="color: #cc0000;">The National Society's Forty-Third Annual report, 1854</span></a></b></div>
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You can find out more about the <b>National Society</b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b> <a href="https://www.churchofengland.org/education/church-of-england-education-history.aspx"><span style="color: #cc0000;">HERE</span></a></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-57924507375746122802017-08-12T15:32:00.000+01:002017-08-12T15:32:13.591+01:00A Special Post - meet genealogist Dr Janet FewIn a departure from the usual content of this blog – my current dabbling in my family history research – I'd like, on this occasion, to introduce you to a <i>proper</i> genealogist!<br />
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Please welcome, historian and author, <b>Janet Few.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74vfaRvSxPpZYLbBGcvWh-wD35E2hUIfgI77PtQm46Pfd7lR_xR2IMQbUEda89wOeyK1sybf6lmKAZmcQydd1YFa0sIOXPyeZOlIaB6RBcZj_C1JMHcE2n9brjPghqOV3fmC0t71FXDDK/s1600/mistress-agnes-sepia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="292" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi74vfaRvSxPpZYLbBGcvWh-wD35E2hUIfgI77PtQm46Pfd7lR_xR2IMQbUEda89wOeyK1sybf6lmKAZmcQydd1YFa0sIOXPyeZOlIaB6RBcZj_C1JMHcE2n9brjPghqOV3fmC0t71FXDDK/s200/mistress-agnes-sepia.jpg" width="195" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG2xTVjQ_rs6iho2qlIz8wI1eoFZ7xBfPQUBKXqEv6xiWm5j4rhhKqZ1DzFTthRZaVAqJ5wDX2K82va-68kQiJCtIAAPAHP5B3-IWgbvtfAd0QRuOi2maURbXSyJbBzC8Mo-GvxNSJFU6/s1600/Coffers%252C+Clysters%252C+Comfrey+and+Coifs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="208" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG2xTVjQ_rs6iho2qlIz8wI1eoFZ7xBfPQUBKXqEv6xiWm5j4rhhKqZ1DzFTthRZaVAqJ5wDX2K82va-68kQiJCtIAAPAHP5B3-IWgbvtfAd0QRuOi2maURbXSyJbBzC8Mo-GvxNSJFU6/s200/Coffers%252C+Clysters%252C+Comfrey+and+Coifs.jpg" width="139" /></a>I first met Janet in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/WalterHenrysBookshop/"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Walter Henry's Bookshop </span></b></a>in Bideford, when she was dressed as her alter-ego, <b>Mistress Agnes</b>, talking about the whys and wherefores of 16th and 17th century clothing.<br />
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And fascinating it was too – there are so many clothes-related sayings we use which originate from the period. <i>Straight-laced</i> being one I recall her explaining...<br />
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But I digress. You'll have to read Janet's book, <b><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Coffers-Clysters-Comfrey-Coifs-Seventeenth/dp/1906280339/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1455195654&sr=8-1&keywords=coffers+clysters+comfrey+and+coifs"><span style="color: #990000;">Coffers, Clysters, Comfrey and Coifs</span></a></b> – one of her<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><span style="color: #990000; font-weight: bold;"><a href="https://thehistoryinterpreter.wordpress.com/publications/"><span style="color: #990000;">many publications</span></a> </span>– to find out more.<br />
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<b>Mistress Agnes</b> is one of the historic characters brought to life through <a href="https://swordsandspindles.wordpress.com/" style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #990000;">Sword and Spindles</span></a><b> </b>. With their interactive living history presentations, they travel all over the country and overseas (check out the <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://swordsandspindles.wordpress.com/news/"><span style="color: #990000;">news page</span></a> </span></b>on their website for their latest adventure)<b> </b>covering subjects such as plague and pestilence, crime and punishment, the history of medicine and witchcraft. <br />
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And if writing books and enactment wasn't enough, Janet also offers a variety of <b><span style="color: #990000;"><a href="https://thehistoryinterpreter.wordpress.com/research-services/"><span style="color: #990000;">historic research services</span></a>. </span></b>So I was delighted when she found a few minutes in her busy schedule to answer a few questions.<br />
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I started by asking her...<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>When did you decide to become a genealogist?</b> </span>It wasn’t a conscious
decision. When I was seven I drew up a family tree on the back of large
cardboard adverts for dog food and I was hooked. I started seriously
researching twelve years later and suddenly I found that various aspects of
family, social and community history had taken over my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">How lovely to start so young! I bet a lot of us wish we'd begun earlier.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>What's the most frustrating brick wall you've broken through?</b> </span>It
took me 37 years to find the parents of my 6 x great-grandfather in my direct
paternal line. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">A lesson to us all, not to give up!</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #990000;">What gave you the idea for Swords and Spindles?</span></b> I was working as an
historical interpreter for a tourist attraction, which was closing down. Some
of the staff felt that it was too good an idea to let go, so although we do not
have premises, we still inhabit the C17th and travel around the world bringing
history to life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">It's such a fabulous idea and great fun, I would imagine. Both for spectators and player alike!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>Tell us the sorts of things you do as Mistress Agnes.</b> </span>Amongst other
things, I give people make-overs C17th style, concoct herbal cures, avoid
detection by the witchfinder and explain what to look for in a good set of
armour.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">Very handy life skills! How to avoid the witchfinder sounds particularly intriguing.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78L24DgJ9QkyhBUQGzzYih5sav6wXbixJ8oJMZg17_gfuOyC5E0bSMlA05sLUxpIO8u9QD1DsJarKn8YS_daH621XQabc59YFg4FwD2aaiKre-16OEJELNl4lbQUGZ-NAVtmhulIe4xTX/s1600/Facebook+generation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="250" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78L24DgJ9QkyhBUQGzzYih5sav6wXbixJ8oJMZg17_gfuOyC5E0bSMlA05sLUxpIO8u9QD1DsJarKn8YS_daH621XQabc59YFg4FwD2aaiKre-16OEJELNl4lbQUGZ-NAVtmhulIe4xTX/s200/Facebook+generation.jpg" width="136" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPsHvbjOD0GQsjiIlN9sUGtF24K4clIzLIA-j_I1DzE1NMiv8ULnmq1jXKvBFrwnq4sMcsUKi04Kwcfb-naDxKuj0W_9mOl-jw7DSau15MUcg2-BNpbvlj8ERy4vvaA8APK1ja09GEX8e/s1600/Remember+Then.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="462" data-original-width="319" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXPsHvbjOD0GQsjiIlN9sUGtF24K4clIzLIA-j_I1DzE1NMiv8ULnmq1jXKvBFrwnq4sMcsUKi04Kwcfb-naDxKuj0W_9mOl-jw7DSau15MUcg2-BNpbvlj8ERy4vvaA8APK1ja09GEX8e/s200/Remember+Then.jpg" width="137" /></a><span style="color: #990000;"><b>You’ve written several history non-fiction books.</b> <b>Which did you
enjoy writing the most?</b></span> It is difficult to decide, as I’ve enjoyed them all in
different ways. Helping 80 women recall their memories of 1946-1969 for <i>Remember Then</i> was very rewarding. </div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">And I enjoyed reading it too. It inspired me to begin writing down my own memories and to encourage others to do likewise.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I also
feel that the booklet <i>Harnessing the
Facebook Generation: </i><a href="http://www.gould.com.au/Harnessing-the-Facebook-Generation-p/utp0263.htm" target="_blank"><i><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration-line: none;">ideas for
involving young people in family history and heritage</span></i></a><strong><span style="font-weight: normal;"> has something very important to
say.</span></strong></span><strong><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">I know you are passionate about getting young people involved in history. I think the book's a brilliant idea. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>You’ve recently turned to writing fiction. Are you enjoying the change?</b>
</span>Yes. I have become really excited by the way that the story is evolving. It is
not without its problems though. I am not used to writing dialogue, so that is
a challenge. The fact that the plot is based on a true story makes it difficult
for me to leave my historian head behind. I have to convince myself that it
really doesn’t matter if I can’t solve a research problem, I can just make it
up!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">Basing it on a true story must make it even more difficult than starting with <i>everything</i> made up! But I do understand what it's like to stumble upon a fascinating real event and want to get it out there. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>Tell us a little about </b><b>the story.</b></span> <span lang="EN-US">It is about a North Devon family who were
exposed to the dangers of disease and of the First World War but for one young woman,
it was her own mother who posed the greatest threat of all. The story
investigates what it was about the mother’s origins in an isolated rural
community that would drive an ordinary fisherman’s wife to take desperate
measures in order to preserve her sanity?</span> The plot is based on a real scandal that lay
hidden for nearly a century. Rooted in its unique and beautiful geographical
setting, it is the unfolding of a past that reverberates unhappily
through the generations and of raw emotions that are surprisingly modern in
character.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">There's nothing quite like a good old fashioned historic scandal! I'm really looking forward to reading it when it's published. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b>Have you any other writing projects planned?</b> </span>I need to say no. I
really need to say no but my interest is sparked by so many things. I am fascinated
by the history of ill health, particularly mental ill-health. Then I should finally
get round to writing up all the biographies I have collected of C19th emigrants
from North Devon. Oh and then there’s the novel that I was going to write
before ‘Daisy’ popped up and said ‘write me’. Has anyone actually worked out
how to get 48 hours into each day? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">I think we'd all like to know that particular trick, Janet!</span></div>
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<br />
If you'd like to find out more about Janet, her books and the historic presentations of <b><a href="https://swordsandspindles.wordpress.com/"><span style="color: #990000;">Sword and Spindles</span></a></b>, then drop into her website <b><a href="https://thehistoryinterpreter.wordpress.com/"><span style="color: #990000;">The History Interpreter </span></a></b>for all the details.<br />
<br />
It just leaves me to say a huge <b>THANK YOU </b>to Janet for taking time to answer my questions and for appearing on this blog post.<br />
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-285681432438917872017-07-10T15:44:00.003+01:002017-07-10T15:44:47.817+01:00Unexpected discovery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh393O3xDleECqesAVQEsCacjcTjj0-wZTDtMvVXX-vGdHl00zA3UbJrCiXtJIcZw2ZPeKHqUyQzMD8V9iYCdeshseH2jaGKNXX7bgwN7yRz32DdAOA8Wct3t4U6e-pnrolpthdV0XqXFS/s1600/Nora+Patten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1029" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh393O3xDleECqesAVQEsCacjcTjj0-wZTDtMvVXX-vGdHl00zA3UbJrCiXtJIcZw2ZPeKHqUyQzMD8V9iYCdeshseH2jaGKNXX7bgwN7yRz32DdAOA8Wct3t4U6e-pnrolpthdV0XqXFS/s320/Nora+Patten.jpg" width="205" /></a></div>
I love it when you're beavering away adding general information to your family history files and something unexpected turns up.<br />
<br />
The 7th July 2017 was the 100 year anniversary of the formation of the <b>Women's Army Auxiliary Corps (WAAC)</b> and prompted me to see what I could find out about my ancestor, <b>Nora Ida Patten,</b> my maternal grandmother's cousin, who's wearing her <b>WAAC</b> uniform in a photograph I have of her.<br />
<br />
I believe the last time I mentioned Nora on this blog, was because she'd been incorrectly labelled and attributed to the wrong parents. (See <a href="https://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/top-of-my-mystery-list.html"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Top of my mystery list</span></b></a>.) Since then, I've established her true identity.<br />
<br />
She was born in late 1896 in Wednesfield, Wolverhampton, to <b>John Patten and Mary Ann Griffiths</b>, my great-grandfather's sister, making her my first cousin, twice removed.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Service records</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
Much to my delight, I discovered Nora's service records on the <b><a href="http://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/"><span style="color: #cc0000;">National Archives</span></a></b> website and downloaded a copy. From the form I gleaned a couple useful snippets of information, unconnected with her <b>WW1</b> career – firstly, that her religion was "<b>Wesleyan</b>" and secondly, that her occupation <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOqM11rvYEeCcC8mAaApbjijENfXNQNNHHmx7q9UTki7vMHLfVSX_YNSnml9zk9MHm6PpfUpVukkyluoNF4rrlRju-UXG9Gm3-7d7D-N8PDWzdwht4zBE1J2bWUbY5aqut2qww-_ck-EV/s1600/Mary+Griffiths+%2526+husband+Jack+Patten.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1299" data-original-width="767" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOqM11rvYEeCcC8mAaApbjijENfXNQNNHHmx7q9UTki7vMHLfVSX_YNSnml9zk9MHm6PpfUpVukkyluoNF4rrlRju-UXG9Gm3-7d7D-N8PDWzdwht4zBE1J2bWUbY5aqut2qww-_ck-EV/s320/Mary+Griffiths+%2526+husband+Jack+Patten.BMP" width="188" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nora's parents, John & Mary Ann Patten<br />
(nee Griffiths) in my great-grandparents'<br />
garden (and later my gran's)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
was "tailoress".<br />
<br />
But what I was excited to learn was that she'd transferred from the <b>WAAC</b> to the <b>Central Flying School at Upavon</b>, Wiltshire and joined the <b>Women's Royal Air Forc</b>e (<b>WRAF)</b>.<br />
<br />
The <b>WRAF</b> was created on 1st April 1918. Previously, the <b>WAAC</b> and the <b>Women's Royal Navy Service (WRNS) </b>both<b> </b>worked on air stations of the <b>Royal Flying Corp (RFC)</b> and the <b>Royal Naval Air Service (RNAS)</b>. When these two merged to become the <b>RAF</b>, the <b>WRAF </b>was created to ensure specialist women's services wouldn't be lost.<br />
<br />
Members of the <b>WAAC</b> and <b>WRNS</b> were asked if they'd like to transfer to the new service and 9,000 of them did – clearly, Nora was one.<br />
<br />
But while it would be lovely to think that being sent to the <b>Central Flying School</b> meant her new status involved flying aeroplanes, in reality the role of the <b>WRAF</b> was to support the men by doing work they would have done, thereby releasing them for combat.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Women's trades</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></div>
There were four broad categories in which the women were divided: Clerks and Storewomen, Household, Technical and Non-technical. To quote the <span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/research/online-exhibitions/women-of-the-air-force/womens-royal-air-force-wraf-1918-1920.aspx"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Royal Airforce Museum</span></b></a> </span>website:<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 17px;">
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">The majority of women were employed as clerks, with shorthand typists the most highly paid of all airwomen. Women allocated to the Household section worked the longest hours, doing back breaking work for the lowest pay. The Technical section covered a wide range of trades, most highly skilled, including tinsmiths, fitters and welders.</b></span></i></div>
<div style="color: #333333; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 17px;">
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b style="background-color: #fce5cd;">By 1920 over 50 trades were open to women including tailoring, photography, catering, pigeon keeping and driving. The work of these women ...proved that [they] could equal men in the workplace.</b></span></i></div>
Notice that one particular trade mentioned was tailoring, and given her former occupation, this may have been what Nora did at Upavon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOkt4WvvmrE7i1-n18VqrMppCAiUJt8-F7jWhxGJTgJujOM9JHORkP-ooLG8TWiO3GZOzS5Q2sLLGxDYkCjyY2Zzf9XU8GTyANmmnliyHgLkN8DTnJUsAx4jcRHaDisILLKCM-7Df0VVS/s1600/Snippet+of+records.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="676" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOkt4WvvmrE7i1-n18VqrMppCAiUJt8-F7jWhxGJTgJujOM9JHORkP-ooLG8TWiO3GZOzS5Q2sLLGxDYkCjyY2Zzf9XU8GTyANmmnliyHgLkN8DTnJUsAx4jcRHaDisILLKCM-7Df0VVS/s320/Snippet+of+records.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Courtesy of TNA</span></div>
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Nora was married in 1919 and her marriage was registered in Pewsey (the district for Upavon) in the March quarter of that year. I'm currently awaiting delivery of a copy of her marriage certificate.<br />
<br />
The last entry in Nora's records is dated the end of February 1919 and it's clear that she's been granted leave. Some fellow family historians who've seen the form believe the shorthand stands for "unpaid leave". Others think it has something to do with "nuptials"!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSJn59mbZmIVcRteTsQp-om3BZTBNntYgf7CZ53ZWzGkQwNzu-CbRm4WkO3LmcyORx54t2kXnLibiwTMCFkEzcRDsyboIoOTKd17hrKnVXZh2iD28NeKG96Q5x5UuK0L7C3HyhRbL_SFm/s1600/close+up+service+record.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="851" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSJn59mbZmIVcRteTsQp-om3BZTBNntYgf7CZ53ZWzGkQwNzu-CbRm4WkO3LmcyORx54t2kXnLibiwTMCFkEzcRDsyboIoOTKd17hrKnVXZh2iD28NeKG96Q5x5UuK0L7C3HyhRbL_SFm/s320/close+up+service+record.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
As for the P.D. at the end... given that it's the final entry and she's surely to have left the service at this point, could it be "<i>something</i> Discharge"?<br />
<br />
And what of Nora's husband? His name was <b>Albany John Ward </b>and he was born in Devon in 1894.<br />
<br />
You'd think with a name like Albany, he'd be easy to trace but so far information is a bit thin. Apparently he was known as John or Jack which makes his distinctive name less useful.<br />
<br />
Hopefully my luck will change soon, as I'm keen to find out about his military career. Did he and Nora meet at Upavon? Was he a pilot? Perhaps when the marriage certificate arrives it will answer that question. I'll let you know!<br />
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If you've anything to add to the debate about what's written in that last entry of Nora's records, please do add your comment below. </div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
In the meantime, if I learn anything definitive about that, or about Albany John Ward, you'll read it here. Watch this space...</div>
<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-62434228119025847662017-06-06T10:46:00.000+01:002017-06-06T10:46:07.671+01:00Mystery man identified!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6PQXeN_cHRM7JMhp8NB8FuFoGQKMdURBney8rTv5FVK8fGNioKYCHsnXrrWSS3MfIXZLA0ffsajlfgEDxoqmc6O8e-fNB-z_oIGxafWLhaUROOvjligE0EwQWZw-FHHix6QV1TiFHMFC/s1600/Vincent+Talbot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1007" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6PQXeN_cHRM7JMhp8NB8FuFoGQKMdURBney8rTv5FVK8fGNioKYCHsnXrrWSS3MfIXZLA0ffsajlfgEDxoqmc6O8e-fNB-z_oIGxafWLhaUROOvjligE0EwQWZw-FHHix6QV1TiFHMFC/s320/Vincent+Talbot.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>
Yes! At last! I now know who my distinguished serviceman is! Of course, that's not to say that I've established exactly... <i>who</i> he is... But more on that later...<br />
<br />
Those of you who've read this blog for a while will know that I've always been baffled by this gentleman, whose photograph, dated August 1918, I found amongst the family documents. My late aunt believed him to be <b>Vincent Talbot</b> and had written that name on the back, along with that of his alleged mother.<br />
<br />
But I hit a brick wall trying to find him on the family tree. The lady who was supposed to be his mother did not, as far as I could establish, have any sons.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Twitter help</span></h3>
<div>
Posting the photograph on Twitter resulted in feedback from some eagle-eyed tweeter who quite rightly noticed that the name Vincent, signed on the front of the photo, was his surname, accompanied by the initials C and J.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
More investigation, and confirmation from a military expert, told me that his cap badge revealed him to have been in the <a href="http://www.longlongtrail.co.uk/army/regiments-and-corps/tank-corps-in-the-first-world-war/"><b>Tank Corps</b></a>. But although I searched various databases for a Sergeant C J Vincent, and came across potential matches, such as Charles James and Charles Joseph, there was no obvious connection with "my man" to draw any firm conclusions.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Pause for breath</span></h3>
<div>
So, as often happens, another mystery pushed its way to the front of the queue and I became involved in other things. Until I joined the Facebook group, <b>Staffordshire & Ancestry Genealogy</b>.... I posted a photo of my mystery man and I got a breakthrough!<br />
<br />
I'm indebted to <b>Bryan Johncock</b> of the group who not only identified his initials as <i style="font-weight: bold;">G</i> J not C J, but armed with that knowledge, found his military records on <b><a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/">Find My Past</a></b>.</div>
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<div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UgGKw5qVA6VhDK39xorAIWbJuvt-M_TGXECobKHofd36MdqwngNGihpLyoX6SK4dADdgcaxL8nm6wNDOto4Q8PIPxTxFEuqpUIMglhlM0OqWB2KHd-y254zSSEuAhwMWtcrnhHHKzPAF/s1600/Service+application+form.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="353" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UgGKw5qVA6VhDK39xorAIWbJuvt-M_TGXECobKHofd36MdqwngNGihpLyoX6SK4dADdgcaxL8nm6wNDOto4Q8PIPxTxFEuqpUIMglhlM0OqWB2KHd-y254zSSEuAhwMWtcrnhHHKzPAF/s320/Service+application+form.JPG" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Attestation form of George J Vincent</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
So... meet <b>George James Vincent</b>, a sergeant in the tank corps, regimental number 205517! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But, as all good family historians should, I cautioned myself not to get too carried away until I could verify that we were talking about the same man. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So you can imagine my excitement when, using Bryan's information to locate George on <b><a href="https://www.ancestry.co.uk/">Ancestry</a>,</b> I came across this military record – his Service Attestation form from 1916.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I homed in on the signature, I recognised it immediately. It's the same as the one on my photograph!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrjNNtNX8AWbV340MSMe45puGiSski0XTmx15AdXwI6by5xpf3ci0fSLIefRYuYXcbvX2rUA4z1sZt_y3htGpFZKsL6BU5mp25XGDkQnXGHAaiG63uHt3x9iALB5T6SFLAszeYTDfPAL-/s1600/Signature+of+G+J+Vincent+on+photograph.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="662" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZrjNNtNX8AWbV340MSMe45puGiSski0XTmx15AdXwI6by5xpf3ci0fSLIefRYuYXcbvX2rUA4z1sZt_y3htGpFZKsL6BU5mp25XGDkQnXGHAaiG63uHt3x9iALB5T6SFLAszeYTDfPAL-/s320/Signature+of+G+J+Vincent+on+photograph.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">About the man</span></h3>
</div>
<div>
<b>George James Vincent</b> was born in <b>Chepstow, Monmouthshire, Wales</b>, in 1893 to <b>Henry and Mary Vincent (nee Head)</b>. His father was a grocer and the couple had seven children – <b>Mabel, Henry, George, Hilda, James, Lilian and (Phyllis) Madge. </b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The 1911 census shows George as a solicitor's clerk. His father was a Grocer manager in Chepstow and his elder brother, Henry, was also in the grocery trade as an assistant.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In 1916 George joined the <b><a href="http://www.1914-1918.net/mmg.htm">Motor Machine Gun Service </a></b>which would go on to be incorporated into the <a href="http://www.longlongtrail.co.uk/army/regiments-and-corps/tank-corps-in-the-first-world-war/"><b>Tank Corps</b></a>. A fascinating book called <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Most-Secret-Place-Earth-Anglian/dp/1904006760"><b>The Most Secret Place on Earth, by Roger Pugh</b></a>, tells the story of the development of the tank in WW1. The book logs the early days of gathering men with an engineering background to train to drive the new secret machines and eventually take their expertise out to the battlefields in France.<br />
<br />
As for George's role, I'm still getting my head round the vagaries of the battalions and units and regiments... but hope to report back soon in more detail on his service career once I've unravelled the relevant tangled military ribbons. </div>
<div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Meanwhile, I can tell you that George married <b>Ena Edna Thorne</b> in July 1918, in <b>Tidenham, in Gloucestershire</b>. (Bizarrely, this portion of Gloucestershire was under the Chepstow registration district until 1937 when it became part of The Forest of Dean, which caused me some initial confusion!) If you cast a glance at the marriage entry below, you might recognise the signature!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzQDqSYKBAeSWzvtf1IobYWwFDECv3Q-Tbwwwp0DYrgF_cc6c7eK7t_hVN3WGIK-4GIO3jo5xJJZiRFYL3yiaypLXaEmJej6a9zvih2SptlunJoJpz-qY8SoeZ-ta8QZsUxJQWJ2B1-Vi/s1600/Marriage+in+Tidenham%252C+Gloucestershire.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="996" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBzQDqSYKBAeSWzvtf1IobYWwFDECv3Q-Tbwwwp0DYrgF_cc6c7eK7t_hVN3WGIK-4GIO3jo5xJJZiRFYL3yiaypLXaEmJej6a9zvih2SptlunJoJpz-qY8SoeZ-ta8QZsUxJQWJ2B1-Vi/s640/Marriage+in+Tidenham%252C+Gloucestershire.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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As you can see, George is living in Wool, Dorset, at the time of his wedding – which is just down the road from <b>Bovington</b>, where in 1916 the <b>Machine Gun Corps</b> relocated from Norfolk and, of course, is where today you'll find the <a href="http://www.tankmuseum.org/home"><b>Bovington Tank Museum</b>.</a> Time for a visit there, I think!</div>
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Now, while I'm thrilled to finally know who my distinguished military man is, I'm still no closer to understanding why his photograph was in with my own family collection! I've found no common surnames within his immediate family which might suggest a link, leaving me plenty of digging left to do to solve that particular part of the mystery. So this really is only Part One of the journey.</div>
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But, fear not, I have a few ideas and I'm already following up some leads. So I'll be back again when I've got more to report. Watch this space!</div>
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Meanwhile, the website <b><a href="http://www.longlongtrail.co.uk/">The Long, Long Trail</a> </b>is extremely useful if you're about to embark upon a search for WW1 information on an ancestor of your own.<br />
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And if you do track something down, you may like to post it on <b><a href="https://livesofthefirstworldwar.org/">Lives of the First World War</a></b> which is logging as many personal stories as it can for future generations to read.<br />
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-60034390772329721602017-05-08T09:11:00.000+01:002017-05-10T17:27:08.856+01:00Mystery Percivals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bc4pNE9t_ArJNfMIjpAbczJNk3_8bZ0lh5J8tJP_FvtkghJKyK1dDOzgamdMAIbCLF0KmnXj5zJM_Y6ww2Gq1hAD5lk_knvqzLoSyE3KVTytga0U8BV9SdQKR4caRdNPnmZReQNj5oz8/s1600/The+book+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9bc4pNE9t_ArJNfMIjpAbczJNk3_8bZ0lh5J8tJP_FvtkghJKyK1dDOzgamdMAIbCLF0KmnXj5zJM_Y6ww2Gq1hAD5lk_knvqzLoSyE3KVTytga0U8BV9SdQKR4caRdNPnmZReQNj5oz8/s320/The+book+cover.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
Some years ago our son stumbled upon a publication entitled <b>The Percival Book </b>in a junk shop. Wondering if it was connected with our side of the family, he bought it and presented it to us as a Christmas present.<br />
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Disappointingly, though, a summary glance at the book's contents suggested that we weren't part of this particular branch – ours being descended from "Ag Labs" and this one containing the occasional baronet and people with letters after their names – and so it was shelved and forgotten about.<br />
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Then, the other day I came across the book while searching for something else (why does it always happen that way?) and with a good deal more family history experience under my belt than first time around, I decided to take a closer look.<br />
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The blue fabric-bound hard-back book had been compiled in 1970 by <b>Alicia Constance Percival</b> and her cousin, <b>Brigadier Edward Lewis Percival</b> – the flysheet is signed by the authors. At 148 pages, plus old black and white photographs and a number of family tree diagrams at the back, it's a fabulous family record. An order form I found inside reveals that at the time of publication a copy cost 30/- (helpfully translated into "new" money – £1.50 – in readiness for decimalisation due to come in the following year).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The flysheet with authors' signatures</td></tr>
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<span style="color: #990000;">Family Reunion</span></h3>
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It seems the book was put together for a family reunion held on 13th December 1970 at <b>Kimsbury House, Gloucestershire</b>, where the Percivals had lived for a number of years. Sadly I've not been able to find any image of the house, but it's a Grade II listed building and its listing entry reveals that it was built around 1884 and styled with Queen Anne and Jacobean influences. It was appraised as,<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"> "<i>a</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "goudy bookletter 1911" , serif;"><i>n accomplished late Victorian house of considerable landscape </i></span><i style="font-family: "Goudy Bookletter 1911", serif;">impact".</i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">At the time of the grand reunion, Alicia's aunt, <b>Lady Percival </b>(with the wonderful name of <b>Henrietta Lucilla Vigne Percival</b> – she'd married her cousin, Alicia's Uncle <b>John Hope Percival</b>) was the oldest living Percival, at the age of 92. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">Tucked inside the book is a type-written list of all those who attended the gathering, stating where they'd travelled from, along with a brief note to explain their family connection.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: #990000; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">Detail</span></h3>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">But it's the detailed content within its pages which is so impressive and must have taken a long time to gather and collate. From the earliest recorded ancestor – <b>William Percival</b>, who died in 1679 – each member of the family is listed in alphabetical order, along with the name of their parents and a summary of key elements in their life history. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">Alicia's entry tells us that she was educated at <b>Sherborne School for Girls </b>and<b> St Hugh's college, Oxford</b>, that she'd travelled extensively in <b>India and Egypt</b>, teaching and lecturing. During the Second World War, she had been secretary to the <b>Women's Land Army </b>in the Middle East between 1941 and 1945. At the end of the entry are listed the academic books she'd written, including her latest publication, <i><b>Very Superior Men </b>– some early public school headmasters and their achievements. </i>A leaflet with more details and an order form was amongst the loose papers tucked inside.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">There is so much information here, it will take me a while to read it through, as those particularly active Percivals, especially those who served in the military, are mentioned in additional accounts complied from diaries and other records. To complete the compilation, there are 7 pull-out family tree diagrams of different branches of the family from various parts around the UK. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">Northampton seems to be where the Percival family originated which caused us to raise an eyebrow. My husband's great uncle, <b>Theodore Percival</b>, moved to <b>Northampton </b>and married there in 1915. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">On his marriage certificate, his father, <b>Shadrack Percival</b>, is stated as being an architect, when, in fact, he was a postman. Great Uncle Theo does not feature much in the family memory and the impression has always been that Theo distanced himself from his family back in Essex. Was Theo aware of the more affluent Northampton Percivals and tried to imply that his heritage lay there in an effort to impress, rather than admit to his more modest ancestry? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd; font-family: "goudy bookletter" , serif;">As I browsed through The Percival Book, I noticed a scribbled note had been added to Alicia's entry, referring the reader to the entry of her brother, <b>David Athelstane Percival</b>. When I found the relevant page, I saw that there was another additional note in the same hand. It read: <i>"Died of food poisoning with his sister Alicia when she was staying with him, 1987." </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><span style="background-color: white;">Sure enough, their deaths are both listed in the same month – September 1987 – and was announced in <i>The Times</i>. </span><span style="background-color: white;">A sad ending to a long and active life. Alicia was 84 and her brother was 81.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">What's interesting is that David lived in <b>Great Baddow, Essex</b>, only around 20 miles from <b>Great Tey</b>, where our very own "Ag Lab" Percivals originated. A coincidence? Or was there a particular reason why he settled there after spending so much time abroad during his life. It will be interesting to study the book and see if I can find any connections!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;">Are you related to the Percivals? Do you recognise this particular branch? Do you know of this amazing book? I'd love to hear from you.</span></div>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-50926628426711875792017-03-31T15:52:00.000+01:002017-03-31T15:52:25.979+01:00Secrets revealed by tragedy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">E. Ernest Baker born 1861</td></tr>
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As is often the case in family history, as you dig around to clarify one set of facts, you stumble upon something totally unexpected, leading you down a completely new route of enquiry. So it's proved while trying to establish what happened to the two elder sons of <b>Charles Gabriel Baker</b> who died so tragically in Australia in 1868.<br />
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If you've read the sad story (and if you haven't, click <a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/articles/4593520155">HERE</a> to download the article in <i>Family Tree Magazine</i>), you'll know that when Charles's widow, <b>Susan</b>, returned home to England, their four sons were separated. Of the four, the two younger brothers kept in touch but the two elder brothers, <b>Alfred </b>and <b>Ernest</b>, seemed to vanish from the records.<br />
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Discovered!</span></h4>
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However recently I was contacted by Kelli, a descendant of the elder brother, (Charles) <b>Alfred</b>, and it emerged that both brothers ended up in Australia. My post <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/another-mystery-unravelled.html">Another mystery unravelled</a>, told <b>Alfred</b>'s story. This post was to tell of <b>Ernest</b>'s fate but the story has turned out to be more intriguing than it first appeared. I'm indebted to Kelli for her help in unpicking the threads of what happened.</div>
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Early years</span></h4>
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Let's go back to the beginning. <b>Ernest </b>was born in London and baptised at <b>St Stephen's</b> in <b>Hampstead</b>, as <b>Edward Ernest</b> (pay attention – you'll need to remember this bit as we go along). When his father died in 1868 <b>Ernest</b> was sent to the <b>London Orphan Asylum in Clapton</b>. It was at this point that I lost track of him but Kelli explained that in 1880, at the age of 18, he had accompanied his brother, <b>Alfred</b>, to Australia as crew members aboard the <i>Durham. </i>This explained why they'd not appeared on the 1881 UK census.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">A new life in Australia</span></h4>
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By 1884, <b>Ernest</b> had married <b>Mary Wallace </b>in Essenden, Victoria. The marriage index lists him by his full name,<b> Edward Ernest Baker</b> but interestingly he seems also to have added <b>Morris</b> for good measure, his younger brother's middle name. A tinge of home sickness, perhaps? </div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Sadly, <b>Mary</b> died only a year later. On her gravestone, she's remembered as<b> Mary (nee Polly Wallace) Baker</b>, dearly beloved wife of <b>E. Ernest M. Baker.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">A year after Mary's death, in 1886, <b>Ernest</b> married again, to <b>Catherine Isabella Stewart</b>. This time the records show his name the other way around, as <b>Ernest Edward Morris Baker</b>, reverting to <b>Ernest</b> as his first name, as he'd always been known within the family. The couple went on to have a son, <b>George Norman</b>, born in 1887.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Accidental death</span></h4>
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It isn't until the discovery of <b>Ernest</b>'s untimely death 28 years later that it becomes clear that <b>Ernest</b>'s life up until that point hadn't taken the path one might have imagined. But before I get on to that, let me explain what happened to poor <b>Ernest</b> in October 1914. </div>
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It was while on a fishing trip with friends at <b>Berembed Weir</b> in <b>New South Wales</b>, on the <b>Murrumbridgee River</b>, when disaster struck. <b>Ernest</b> went into the river to recover an oar but slipped and fell into deep water. He became entangled in<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> his clothing and d</span>espite being a strong swimmer, he <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">sadly drowned. </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">His body was recovered a few days later and a </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">subsequent inquest recorded his death as accidental. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In the press at the time, it was mentioned that <b>Ernest</b> (referred to as <b>Mr E E Baker</b>) was a widower, of several years. But on further investigation, it was clear that his wife, <b>Catherine</b>, nee Stewart, was still very much alive. So what had happened? </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">His death certificate showed that his "wife" was not<b> Catherine</b> but <b>Georgina Lindsay</b>. While no record has been found of their marriage (<b>Georgina</b> was widowed in 1885, having previously been <b>Mrs George Whaley Miller</b>) her death was recorded as <b>Georgina Baker </b>and she'd died in 1907. Other sections of <b>Ernest</b>'s death certificate, such as parents' names and previous marriage, were filled in as "unknown". Whoever provided the information to the registrar genuinely didn't know or was keeping schtum about Ernest's past! </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #990000;">Dishonour</span></h4>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Further delving into the archives revealed that in 1901, <b>Ernest</b>, an Insurance Agent at the time, was gaoled for 6 months for embezzlement. Had this dishonourable behaviour resulted in Ernest and his second wife separating? Apparently not. <b>Ernest</b> and <b>Georgina</b> were already together by then, having had three sons before this date, <b>Sydney</b> in 1890, <b>Harry</b> in 1893 and <b>Frank</b> in 1897 – <b>Harry </b>and <b>Frank</b> obviously named after <b>Ernest</b>'s younger siblings. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjne_BPn5-gFDo9w4GSNhe7wzwuNaSfSiO_8GRDfUS3RplUVS9Nhsz2I5uRi4P8NOIKOCTP8zfl4MTZx3arAlcr3IUHkxOnOc4q3OhUgYha4b6UzJm-Q23g2AeTxdtLyX4doGORuggWz367/s1600/Whisky+theft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjne_BPn5-gFDo9w4GSNhe7wzwuNaSfSiO_8GRDfUS3RplUVS9Nhsz2I5uRi4P8NOIKOCTP8zfl4MTZx3arAlcr3IUHkxOnOc4q3OhUgYha4b6UzJm-Q23g2AeTxdtLyX4doGORuggWz367/s320/Whisky+theft.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Other newspaper reports tell of <b>Ernest </b>being sent to court for obtaining money by false pretences (writing a cheque which bounced) and on another occasion, an <b>Edward Ernest Baker </b>(note the name order – could this also be our man?) being accused of stealing a bottle of whisky from a hotel bar, which subsequently turned up hidden in a nearby culvert – though, it appears, not before <b>Edward/Ernest</b> spent a Saturday night in the local police cell!</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; color: #990000;">Occupations</span></h4>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>Ernest</b> is recorded on the electoral roll of 1913 as being a journalist. We know he was an insurance agent in 1901 and the newspapers at the time of his death refer to him as an accountant. His death certificate states he was a labourer! He clearly had both a checkered life and a varied career.</span><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I suspect there's still a lot more to unravel about the life of <b>Edward Ernest Morris Baker</b>. What did he do in England before he travelled to Australia? What happened between him and his second wife, <b>Catherine</b>? Was he really ever a journalist? Did he maintain contact with his family back in the UK? </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">While there are some things we may yet discover, there are probably other questions for which we'll never know the answers. But, as ever, it's always fascinating following the trail.</span></div>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-88754616882960891502017-02-28T12:30:00.000+00:002017-02-28T12:31:07.949+00:00The mystery engagementMy plan for this post had been to tell the story of the other 'missing' son of <b>Charles Gabriel </b>and <b>Susannah Baker</b>, <b>Edward Ernest Baker</b>, born 1861, brother of (Charles) <b>Alfred Baker</b>, who I wrote about last month in <span style="color: #990000;"><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/another-mystery-unravelled.html"><b><span style="color: #990000;">Another Mystery Unravelled</span></b></a>.</span><br />
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But I came across something intriguing this week which I'd like to share instead. I'd also like to challenge your imagination to come up with ideas as to the mystery behind the story.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33dDHjAXqKjJNiMg2eXQE5xzgnPJAH0k2R4ziLB6jVzj_RC2gzpx9hZjxocCkW8koaF25ODJjsRgaFcYyOlxzzzUr3Z9WTcG6iAgsupGqD9Y-ZIr5UQXyVHCJJHHGhM2C-RzZh9KXDkh9/s1600/Herbert+Colley0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33dDHjAXqKjJNiMg2eXQE5xzgnPJAH0k2R4ziLB6jVzj_RC2gzpx9hZjxocCkW8koaF25ODJjsRgaFcYyOlxzzzUr3Z9WTcG6iAgsupGqD9Y-ZIr5UQXyVHCJJHHGhM2C-RzZh9KXDkh9/s320/Herbert+Colley0001.jpg" width="198" /></a>I've written before about my grandfather, <b>Herbert Henry Coules Colley</b>, also known by his stage name, <b>Ken Barton</b>. He was an actor and comedian, treading the boards and touring the country's "rep" theatres which is where he met my grandmother, who became his second wife. She was a trained opera singer but decided variety entertainment was more lucrative a career. You can read more about both of them on my post <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2015/12/panto-time.html"><span style="color: #990000;">Panto time!</span></a></b><br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Before the dream</span></h4>
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Before Herbert followed his dream to become a "theatrical artist", he worked in the newspaper industry in the printing rooms supporting his mother and siblings, after his father, <b>Edward Henry Coules Colley,</b> left the family home (or may well have got kicked out by Herbert's mother, Frances, on discovering that he was leading a double life – read the full story <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/romance-in-records.html"><span style="color: #990000;"><b>here</b></span></a>).<br />
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It was during this time, before he married his first wife, <b>Ada Dean,</b> that Herbert appears to have been engaged to a <b>Mary Ann Fry</b>. She was a "Paper packer" which could well be a packer of newspapers and where she met Herbert. But it's at this point that the intrigue begins.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Reading of the banns</span></h4>
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In late November and early December 1889 the banns were read in St John's the Evangelist, Walworth announcing the forthcoming marriage of <b>Herbert Henry Coules Colley</b> and <b>Mary Ann Fry,</b> bachelor and spinster of the parish respectively. But it seems that the marriage never took place and the entry on the banns record is crossed out.<br />
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What makes the story unusual, than perhaps a jilting at the alter, is that less than 3 months later, in March 1890, another banns record appears for <b>Herbert Henry Coules Colley</b> and <b>Mary Ann Fry.</b> Again there is no record that the marriage actually took place and again, the entry has been crossed out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNAZQEFdNnl0Xd5_0YY2Va16idHPX0k9GHdjsDMULLZ0YkbrYcyEzBa9wopz96T8xrmUSCpO994Mc0wNkhnxy34QcgZLzJpjiCCl97_vXpI-0rDWwlYuAUKP6w-due83c_CmLRyx-1S-f/s1600/Herbert+HC+Colley+banns+to+Mary+Ann+Fry+1890.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibNAZQEFdNnl0Xd5_0YY2Va16idHPX0k9GHdjsDMULLZ0YkbrYcyEzBa9wopz96T8xrmUSCpO994Mc0wNkhnxy34QcgZLzJpjiCCl97_vXpI-0rDWwlYuAUKP6w-due83c_CmLRyx-1S-f/s320/Herbert+HC+Colley+banns+to+Mary+Ann+Fry+1890.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;">What's the story?</span></h4>
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So what occurred? Was the first wedding cancelled due to illness? Did either party change their mind and then change it back again, to try a second time the following year? Did everyone arrive at the church, only to witness the bride – or the groom – not turning up? Or did someone, in true dramatic fashion, stand up and declare there was an impediment to why these two people could not be joined in matrimony?<br />
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I'd love to hear your suggestions. So do let me know what you think the story could be. (Along with ideas as to how I might go about finding out the truth of the tale!)<br />
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As a postscript, you may be interested to know that 6 years after the second banns reading, <b>Mary Ann Fry</b> went on to marry Herbert's uncle, his father's brother <b>Robert Colley</b>. Perhaps therein lies a clue.<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-15268565412668670352017-01-31T13:43:00.000+00:002017-01-31T13:43:24.480+00:00Another mystery unravelled<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYOLxukS0wfG0gm4rM1C40mri1kKScNOjXI6uMP8bw7nFZLE9ToA3GuwOLFKcOjSxMGJlE78XZqv5LTkg_hyphenhyphenbV9PpmVx1-ogjPU3oH2KyfBggFjXkokQAjXBzSKJ-bkEEICqIt9UWxfiD/s1600/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYOLxukS0wfG0gm4rM1C40mri1kKScNOjXI6uMP8bw7nFZLE9ToA3GuwOLFKcOjSxMGJlE78XZqv5LTkg_hyphenhyphenbV9PpmVx1-ogjPU3oH2KyfBggFjXkokQAjXBzSKJ-bkEEICqIt9UWxfiD/s320/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" width="225" /></a><br />
Sometimes it takes a long time to uncover a mystery and it's always a thrill to finally discover the truth, especially when it's been something you've wondered about for many years.<br />
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During our research for <b>Charles Gabriel Baker</b>'s fateful trip to Australia in 1867 with his wife <b>Susan </b>(nee <b>Sawyer</b>), ending in his death six months later, we discovered that on Susan's return to England, the couple's four sons were separated.<br />
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While <b>Frank</b>, the youngest, at only 3 years old, stayed with his mother, the others were sent to different orphanages and schools. (Read the tragic story in my article <b><a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/articles/4593520155" target="_blank">A Death Down Under</a>,</b> published in <i><b>Family Tree Magazine</b></i> in May 2016.)<br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #990000;">Missing brothers</span></h4>
By 1881 the two youngest brothers, <b>Frank</b> and <b>Harry Morris</b> (aged 5 when his father died), had been reunited and were living with their mother. But I could find no record of <b>Edward </b>and <b>Alfred</b> on the census. What had happened to them?<br />
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The last piece of information I had was that <b>Alfred </b>(full name, <b>Charles Alfred</b>), had left school in 1873, aged 15, to join the navy. My blog post <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/lost-at-sea.html" target="_blank">Lost at Sea?</a> </b>considered what his life might have been like on board at this time and I speculated as to whether he'd disappeared under the waves.<br />
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Then a couple of months ago, I was contacted by an Australian lady through this blog. I was delighted to learn that she was a descendant of <b>Charles Alfred Baker.</b> She'd been unaware that <b>Charles Gabriel </b>and <b>Susan</b> had come to Australia and was intrigued to hear their story. In return she was able to pass on what she'd researched about <b>Charles Alfred</b> and his brother,<b> Edward.</b><br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #990000;">Alfred in the navy</span></h4>
As I'd discovered all those years ago, <b>Alfred</b> joined the navy on the training ship <b>St Vincent </b>in October 1873. His service record, which I've accessed recently, lists each ship on which he served.<br />
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It also describes his appearance – 5 foot 5¾ inches high, brown hair, blue eyes, fair complexion and with a scar on his right wrist.<br />
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(Prior to joining the navy, Alfred spent a period of time as a shoemaker – and not a very good one, judging by the comments we found in the records. Perhaps he sustained the injury to his wrist with one of his work tools!)<br />
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Remarks on his naval records about his character range from 'very good' and even 'exemplary' – until, that is, the very last entry when he's serving on HMS Penguin.<br />
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Here the assessment is only 'Fair' and in the next column, labelled <i><b>If Discharged. Wither and for what <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGf3fjaTHKSDTCJsUJ2LVlAz_I-un1S2l_qgWKNuc-8lzNdojqiFSN_G5m5M2GNkaGa7ajstcEc5jEqdKbJcNz_qEpFUAKtaqHX9pWAmZ5TfAkglBaULPiHIlZ7TEe2v4SlBlasFePz8k/s1600/HMS_Penguin_Sydney_1895+%2528wikimedia.org%2529.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGf3fjaTHKSDTCJsUJ2LVlAz_I-un1S2l_qgWKNuc-8lzNdojqiFSN_G5m5M2GNkaGa7ajstcEc5jEqdKbJcNz_qEpFUAKtaqHX9pWAmZ5TfAkglBaULPiHIlZ7TEe2v4SlBlasFePz8k/s200/HMS_Penguin_Sydney_1895+%2528wikimedia.org%2529.jpeg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HMS Penguin <br />
(courtesy of wikimedia.org)</td></tr>
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cause</b>, </i>is written the word 'Run' and 'Rio de Janeiro.'<br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #990000;">Deserter</span></h4>
So it seems, that after four years service, Alfred decided he'd had enough of naval life and jumped ship in Brazil.<br />
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Given his past excellent record, I wonder what happened to change his mind and take such a drastic step. Desertion was an extremely serious offence and those found guilty were subject to court martial and potentially a death sentence.<br />
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Tellingly, his name appears on a list published in London's <i><b>Police Gazette</b></i> in March 1878, under the heading, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>DESERTERS FROM THE MILITARY</b>. </span><br />
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<br /><br />But <b>Alfred</b> clearly didn't intend to hang around waiting to be picked up by the authorities. If indeed he did abscond in <b>Rio de Janeiro</b>, he somehow made his way back to England and tracked down his brother <b>Edward</b>, as two years later, both of them are recorded as crew members of a ship called the <b><i>Durham</i></b>, travelling to <b>Sydney</b> in March 1880.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8JsH0DM1YgwAlVHzDOmI7S83pCtN09zGG1YJgCjTCTnZlcjKs4SlyBpXzwEy737zZLTR9J6LdCVGxpqYvXx8ImXX7Uk2RUBGaRXdaL-P_RP4Nrst0PMYaiXEOGvTLJbalQoSEy908jSPV/s1600/Crew+list+of+Durham.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8JsH0DM1YgwAlVHzDOmI7S83pCtN09zGG1YJgCjTCTnZlcjKs4SlyBpXzwEy737zZLTR9J6LdCVGxpqYvXx8ImXX7Uk2RUBGaRXdaL-P_RP4Nrst0PMYaiXEOGvTLJbalQoSEy908jSPV/s320/Crew+list+of+Durham.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crew & passenger list for the <i>Durham</i></td></tr>
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<h4>
<span style="color: #990000;">New life</span></h4>
A year after arriving in Australia, <b>Alfred</b> married <b>Charlotte Neil</b> in Adelaide, and went on to have 5 children. <br /><br /> As for his brother <b>Edward</b> – well... his story, one with a tragic end I'm sorry to say, will be the subject of my next post.<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-69343701895750734592016-12-22T16:12:00.001+00:002021-02-18T18:52:01.662+00:00A year of intrigue... and news for Esme fans<i>Another year over and what have you done...</i> to paraphrase John Lennon's famous Christmas song. Indeed! Looking back, it's been quite a year in my family history research.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Shocking discovery</span></h4>
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It began back in January when I stumbled upon what turned out to be a shocking story about my 3x great-grandparents and "The Other Woman".<br />
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The truth of the matter was revealed to the world through local newspapers, when <b>Thomas Shelley </b>and his "housekeeper" were dragged before magistrates in <b>Eccleshall </b>on a charge of Cruelty and Assault on my 3 x Great-grandmother, <b>Bessie Shelley</b>.<br />
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If you've not read the disgraceful tale, you'll find the details of the case and the tragic outcome for Bessie, on the posts,<b> <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-1.html">A Family Secret - the Shocking Truth Part 1</a>, <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-2.html">Part 2</a> </b>and the follow-up stories,<b> <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-perpetrator.html">Assault and Cruelty - the Perpetrator</a> </b>and <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-victim.html">Assault and Cruelty - the Victim</a>.</b><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Secrets in print</span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYOLxukS0wfG0gm4rM1C40mri1kKScNOjXI6uMP8bw7nFZLE9ToA3GuwOLFKcOjSxMGJlE78XZqv5LTkg_hyphenhyphenbV9PpmVx1-ogjPU3oH2KyfBggFjXkokQAjXBzSKJ-bkEEICqIt9UWxfiD/s1600/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYOLxukS0wfG0gm4rM1C40mri1kKScNOjXI6uMP8bw7nFZLE9ToA3GuwOLFKcOjSxMGJlE78XZqv5LTkg_hyphenhyphenbV9PpmVx1-ogjPU3oH2KyfBggFjXkokQAjXBzSKJ-bkEEICqIt9UWxfiD/s200/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" width="141" /></a>Then in April, the tragic story of my husband's ancestor, <b>Charles Gabriel Baker</b>, and his fatal journey to Australia in 1868, was published in <i><b><a href="https://www.family-tree.co.uk/" target="_blank">Family Tree Magazine</a></b></i>. (You can read the article on the <a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/news/4591154421" target="_blank"><b>News</b></a> page of my website.)<br />
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I've since discovered a little more to add to the story, after a descendant of Charles' sons contacted me. I'd lost track of them during my research about Charles and she was able to fill me in with the missing pieces. But more of that next year in a future post. (Warning: have your hankies at the ready!)</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Sad loss</span></h4>
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Sadly, in May, my dear Dad died, aged 87 and I had the task of preparing the eulogy at his funeral. A childhood accident when he was 7 would prove to have serious consequences. Not only did he have to spend 3 years in hospital, but it left him with a disability which affected his whole life. Not that it stopped him doing very much, mind you, as you can read in my post, <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/preserving-mysteries.html" target="_blank"><b>Preserving the Mysteries.</b> </a> And 2017 will continue to be a case of <i>preserving the mysteries </i>as I begin the mammoth taks of scanning in all his photographs, many in 35 mm slide form, of his early adult life as well as lots of me and my sister growing up.</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Secrets revealed</span></h4>
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The on-going mystery of my Great aunt Annie, <b>Mary Ann Diggory,</b> gave up a few of its secrets later in the year, when I discovered that, despite what we'd always been led to believe,<br />
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there had been at least one relative who maintained contact with Annie (possibly furtively) after she walked out of the family home in 1904, aged 16. (See June's post - <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/the-mystery-of-mary-ann.html"><b>The Mystery of Mary Ann</b></a> for the background to the tale).<br />
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It seems that Annie's aunt Mary (sister to Annie's mother) took Annie in to her own home at some point after Annie became a nurse. Despite Mary's intervention, however, Annie maintained her estrangement from the rest of the family, even after Mary died, as you can read in <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/the-mystery-of-mary-ann-secrets-and-lies.html"><b>The Mystery of Mary Ann - Secrets and Lies</b></a>. My search continues for clues as to why she left home in the first place.</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Looking ahead</span></h4>
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So with a new year of research ahead, I've plenty of interesting secrets to unravel. The unnamed photographs below, for a start! </div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"> New Year's Resolutions</span></h4>
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This is also the time, of course, when we make those New Year Resolutions and one of mine (of the family history variety, anyway) is to try and be more systematic with my research. Mind you, that's all very well until something unexpected lands in my Inbox or a new database is released on Ancestry, sending me off down a path I'd never intended to go! But then, that's half the fun, isn't it?</div>
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So to end this post, and the year, I wish you all a very</div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b>MERRY CHRISTMAS</b> </span></div>
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....and may 2017 be filled with intriguing and fascinating stories as a result of your family history endeavours.</div>
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<b>See you next year!</b></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><b>NEWS...NEWS...NEWS...NEWS...NEWS...NEWS...NEWS...</b></span></div>
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For those of you who enjoy reading my Esme Quentin mysteries, I have exciting news....</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Coming soon.....</span></b></div>
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(and to keep you going until the third full length Esme mystery comes out next year)</div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Death of a Cuckoo</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
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a short novel featuring Esme Quentin </div>
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to be published in early 2017 by <b>sBooks</b>, a new imprint of SilverWood Books.</div>
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Click <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="http://sbooks.co.uk/" target="_blank">HERE</a> </b></span>to find out about <b>sBooks</b>.<br />
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<b>More information about <i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Death of a Cuckoo</span> </i>will be available shortly.</b><br />
<br />
<b>To be kept updated, sign up for my <a href="http://www.wendypercival.co.uk/newsletter-sign-up/4588518671" target="_blank">NEWSLETTER</a>.</b></div>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-45632199929805599652016-11-29T17:01:00.000+00:002016-11-29T18:53:40.612+00:00Surplus Women - the legacy of WW1<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuCC4JgD-LaPz2qwbQdnpr6mtfGfJ6pOWYuKnm7Wm6LCgNbZVeMd9ueJOwMo-_zFRmNGGYST0qLHZF4c2vOB2Gyavoa1ZlAliIxHcABit_rjBi7KZzsooUMS67J-DC9qWYxhT1PvhnoPg/s1600/Hilda%252C+Clara+%2526+Winifred+Griffiths+as+children.BMP" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuCC4JgD-LaPz2qwbQdnpr6mtfGfJ6pOWYuKnm7Wm6LCgNbZVeMd9ueJOwMo-_zFRmNGGYST0qLHZF4c2vOB2Gyavoa1ZlAliIxHcABit_rjBi7KZzsooUMS67J-DC9qWYxhT1PvhnoPg/s320/Hilda%252C+Clara+%2526+Winifred+Griffiths+as+children.BMP" width="203" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clarrie, Winifred & Hilda Griffiths</td></tr>
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Most of us have them on our tree — Maiden Aunts. My great-aunt, <b>Hilda Victoria Griffiths</b>, depicted right with her sisters, my grandmother <b>Winifred</b> (the youngest) and <b>Clarrie</b>, the eldest of the three, is probably the one I knew best, out of all my maiden aunts.<br />
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Often overlooked by family historians for obvious reasons (that the line stops there, as with single men) single women can end up being labelled and dismissed as what's almost become a term of <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">condescension</span> </span>— "spinster".<br />
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While the dictionary definition of a spinster is simply "an unmarried woman", the term conjures up society's stereotype — an elderly lady, sitting in a corner knitting, assumed to know little of the "real world", even seen as a bit batty, to be viewed with pity. Or worse, considered a "dried up", embittered old maid who'd been "left on the shelf", to be treated with scorn, mockery and even contempt.<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Surplus Women</span></h3>
The unfairness of this attitude was made particularly clear to me this week while reading <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Singled-Out-Virginia-Nicholson/dp/0141020628/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1480422215&sr=1-1&keywords=singled+out+virginia+nicholson">Singled Out</a>,</b></span> by Virginia Nicholson which examines the trauma of what the press of the time termed <i>Surplus Women, </i>following the First World War.<br />
<br />
The loss of so many young men who'd died in the trenches completely distorted the natural balance of the sexes, confirmed by the 1921 census which revealed that for every 1,000 men of marriageable age, there were around 1,200 women. In consequence, there would be a considerable number of women who would never find a mate, an outcome considered a crisis situation in an era when society saw marriage as every woman's goal.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XOmRxcO89eu2SwWqf06ydBb4gIyHVrUkUWTfn3LNqt4ayNtJuM7MWoRmpQ7tgQUJoQ7mBDQ1pZ58sZRyEwMqmAUBi2t-ARfI3qfegeKanBDe_HPcp1btYVY5-pkjqGri5jCr7wb45L98/s1600/Hilda+and+Winifred001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6XOmRxcO89eu2SwWqf06ydBb4gIyHVrUkUWTfn3LNqt4ayNtJuM7MWoRmpQ7tgQUJoQ7mBDQ1pZ58sZRyEwMqmAUBi2t-ARfI3qfegeKanBDe_HPcp1btYVY5-pkjqGri5jCr7wb45L98/s320/Hilda+and+Winifred001.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hilda (left) with younger sister, Winifred</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You would think that, given the status quo was brought about by such traumatic circumstances as a world war, allowances would be made for the women affected. But while there was sympathy and understanding by some, it seems there were others who looked down disdainfully on those women who didn't prove "good enough" in the inevitable competition to find a partner.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Mystery fiancé</span></h3>
Any woman born at the turn of the 20th century, as Hilda was, became a <i>surplus </i>statistic, as did Hilda's sisters — my grandmother, Winifred, who would have been 17 at the end of the war, and Clarrie, who would have been 23.<br />
<br />
But Clarrie would be married by 1921 and by 1929 so would Winifred (albeit to a much older man, not of her own generation, though that's another story). But Hilda, born in 1897, would be 32 by the time of Win's marriage, an age considered far too old to have any reasonable hope of attracting a husband.<br />
<br />
There was the sniff of a story that Hilda was engaged before the war and that her fiance was killed. Sadly, I have no name and no more information than that to establish the truth of the tale. Perhaps, as I've speculated before, my "unknown soldier" from the tank corps (see <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2015/04/mystery-unravelling-slowly.html"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Mystery Unravelling... slowly</span></b></a>) is the man in question and is the reason why I've been unable to link him to the family tree.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Nieces and nephews</span></h3>
Like many <i>surplus</i> ladies of her generation, however, Hilda was determined to make the most of her life, even if it didn't include a husband and children of her own.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAx8u_vCzsjCVb61nKMrm7E-wFV8m49kesg9A1MMzvzFWH1HU_Nt5epf2HSm5M66dvJoi6mt1OjOIsPsBbTP3qDtDyGZJHZWu5InawglFau2V0hpkvSscE6idY1hKHs7e1RrorqVD6g6z/s1600/Rupert+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMAx8u_vCzsjCVb61nKMrm7E-wFV8m49kesg9A1MMzvzFWH1HU_Nt5epf2HSm5M66dvJoi6mt1OjOIsPsBbTP3qDtDyGZJHZWu5InawglFau2V0hpkvSscE6idY1hKHs7e1RrorqVD6g6z/s200/Rupert+1.jpg" width="120" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Rupert, one of many <br />
versions Hilda made</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She had several great-nieces and great-nephews who benefited from her love of sewing. Amongst the many things she sewed, she made Rupert Bears for each of us, using patterns she drew herself by hand, so each bear had its own distinctive character. My sister and I considered our own bears to be very precious and were horrified at the way our male cousins played with them, throwing them around through the air in games of derring-do!<br />
<br />
<span style="text-align: center;">Hilda worked for </span><b style="text-align: center;">British Rail</b><span style="text-align: center;">, having first joined the railways as clerk with the </span><b style="text-align: center;">Great Western Railway</b><span style="text-align: center;"> in 1916. When she retired, she enjoyed travelling around the country visiting friends and family, thanks to the 'perk' of discounted fares as a former employee. </span><br />
<br />
<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/AVvXsEj-oqJEIHuHVI686zJ-3VfRc0EgqNUlGHlLzSGocspuynR6OWlNVpeoRzx-HBvVqkn0DtxoJ2Tin7onikaxadZdr7lFkFJc8FWM5EDz12JJani04CmvAhw3qgkjVn0rtCb4eGD-gVpSGD4Z/s1600/GWR+staff+in+WW1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oqJEIHuHVI686zJ-3VfRc0EgqNUlGHlLzSGocspuynR6OWlNVpeoRzx-HBvVqkn0DtxoJ2Tin7onikaxadZdr7lFkFJc8FWM5EDz12JJani04CmvAhw3qgkjVn0rtCb4eGD-gVpSGD4Z/s320/GWR+staff+in+WW1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hilda's GWR employee entry in 1916</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When she wasn't travelling, she lived in a caravan on a residential site in <b>Wolverhampton</b> which my sister and I thought was the most exciting thing in the world. When we visited, we would sit up at the bedroom end of the van at her "dining table" playing with a set of kitchen scales and weights, measuring out rice into different containers.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYLIYlnk6gvJGEamvymukbYPYmXuqNSUV1d3jnSPTbtjV8aJmnpO96KOTqL3MnkrC_lbHpN0wUCY4qUhBXcKQFVJWmIDZetBdcbLOPGLvB6Xt04fglPFxWrYi3uBKsS20NzZhRp-Pz6v-/s1600/Hilda%2527s+caravan001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMYLIYlnk6gvJGEamvymukbYPYmXuqNSUV1d3jnSPTbtjV8aJmnpO96KOTqL3MnkrC_lbHpN0wUCY4qUhBXcKQFVJWmIDZetBdcbLOPGLvB6Xt04fglPFxWrYi3uBKsS20NzZhRp-Pz6v-/s320/Hilda%2527s+caravan001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hilda's caravan after it was moved to Wales<br />
for family holiday use</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Hilda was a great cook, too. In her minute kitchen, she would conjure up the most amazing cakes and biscuits for tea.<br />
<br />
When she moved into a long-awaited council flat in the late 1960s (when she would have been around 70 years old) we couldn't understand the appeal over the "romance" of living in a caravan. The fact that she would no longer have to make do with a condensation-inducing gas fire for heating, a chemical loo in a cupboard in the kitchen or trek across the site for a bath, was completely lost on us!<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Lost opportunity</span></h3>
<div>
Hilda died in 1975 in <b>Codsall, Wolverhampton</b>, aged 77. In life, she was always cheerful, kind, enthusiastic and always busy. I wonder how she felt about being one of the <i>Surplus Women. </i> Did she, like many who are mentioned in Virginia Nicholson's book, feel that she'd missed out, that she'd been robbed unfairly of a life she might have expected if the war had never happened? If she did, I never saw any sign of it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And what was the truth about the story of a lost love? That, I fear, may be one of those mysteries which is destined to remain ever secret.</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
**********************************</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Do you have maiden aunts on your tree? What were they like? If you've any memories to share, I'd be delighted to hear about them.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-75708697867411628062016-10-31T17:44:00.000+00:002016-10-31T17:44:20.512+00:00The Mystery of Mary Ann - looking for connectionsOne of the things I love about family history research (apart from the thrill of stumbling upon something surprising by accident, of course) is the buzz of gathering together those intriguing bits of information which, <i>could</i>, <i>might</i>, <i>possibly</i>, join together to reveal another long-hidden secret which has so far eluded me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs-gOxDHUgYvpguDAslgjRFVs4jrx54SrG8miseJKUsTzYl_Xj2c9VyDCskNweqWMwWTxhnHaE3l4YRxw72qG7rHUtuyZ8r8s8itYNj2GCu-FUy7s6sfREfFfu_d10WD4hH8ekrlK6C66/s1600/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs-gOxDHUgYvpguDAslgjRFVs4jrx54SrG8miseJKUsTzYl_Xj2c9VyDCskNweqWMwWTxhnHaE3l4YRxw72qG7rHUtuyZ8r8s8itYNj2GCu-FUy7s6sfREfFfu_d10WD4hH8ekrlK6C66/s320/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann Diggory in later years</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
October's been one of those <i>gathering</i> months in my continuing quest to discover more in the intriguing story of my great aunt, <b>Mary Ann Diggory,</b> and what was behind her decision to walk out on her family in 1904, when she was 16. If you're unfamiliar with the background, my post <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/the-mystery-of-mary-ann.html"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Mystery of Mary Ann</span></b></a>, will fill you in.<br />
<br />
After the thrill of unpicking the secret of Mary Ann's connection with <b>Mary Downes</b> in <span style="color: #cc0000;"><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/the-mystery-of-mary-ann-secrets-and-lies.html"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">last month's post</span></b></a>,</span> I set-to with great determination to see what other gems I could crack.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Murrell Family</span></h3>
I decided first to focus on the <b>Murrell</b> family. Annie, as Mary Ann was generally known, had lived with the <b>Murrell </b>family for several years.<br />
<br />
I'd learned from the <b><a href="http://search.ancestry.co.uk/search/db.aspx?dbid=60423"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Registration of Nurses records</span></a></b>, that she was living with them at <b>68 Foregate Street, Shrewsbury</b> in 1937 and was still resident in 1940, after they'd moved to <b>The Gateway, Monkmoor</b>, Shrewsbury. By 1943 she'd moved to her own house at <b>18 Woodfield Avenue, Shrewsbury</b>, where she remained until she went into a nursing home in the 1980s, towards the end of her life.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Pontesbury connection</span></h3>
So how did she know the Murrell's? As nothing obvious linked her to <b>Edwin Foley Murrell</b>, and I'd drawn a blank on any mention of Annie in his will, I decided to concentrate on his wife, <b>Alice Maud</b> and discovered her maiden name was <b>Randles</b>. Alice's father was <b>Edward Randles,</b> a draper, who was born in <b>Pontesbury </b>in 1838.<br />
<br />
The <b>Pontesbury</b> connection was interesting as Annie's mother, <b>Eliza Roberts</b>, had been born in Pontesbury in 1841, as had her brother, Jonathan in 1845 and her father, Timothy Roberts, in 1813. What's more, Alice Murrell moved to a nursing home called <b>Cliffdale, </b>also in Pontesbury, before she died in 1954.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoU8xiKf4ltYh8fmgS_SGIuZORwXwiZiJzrzIL67qzvQulnEHIZuuPHTUHxOELWKcztfXbUv9h8BZl1-QYR6yCYMYV9cevgUjZJD13Re1364erswDaLs2WYftjPGbj-OfaCTRx_doaQn0B/s1600/Snippet+of+Alice+Murrell%2527s+will.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoU8xiKf4ltYh8fmgS_SGIuZORwXwiZiJzrzIL67qzvQulnEHIZuuPHTUHxOELWKcztfXbUv9h8BZl1-QYR6yCYMYV9cevgUjZJD13Re1364erswDaLs2WYftjPGbj-OfaCTRx_doaQn0B/s320/Snippet+of+Alice+Murrell%2527s+will.JPG" width="320" /></a><b>Alice Murrell</b> left a will and I sent for a copy, thinking, again, that Annie may have been mentioned in some way, giving a clue to their association. But no, Alice's beneficiaries were her two sons, her daughters-in-law and her sister, <b>Marian Randles</b>.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
But what about <b>Cliffdale</b> House? Had she chosen it because of her family connections in Pontesbury? Or did she perhaps have links to <b>Cliffdale</b> House itself?<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Medical link?</span></b></h3>
<b>Cliffdale</b> is currently a care home and their website told me that it had been a private residence up until 1945. I looked it up on the 1911 census and discovered a surgeon lived there, called <b>Jameson</b>. His first name was listed as Alfred but you might agree from looking at the entry below, that it doesn't look much like Alfred to me! (I'm still trying to work out what it is.)<div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-ubq98Mv4TvGGrCHRpT9viZVGHrq70U6FNDWZQEpblGGchoQieJUTZrJ9FFn35jwIkxpS0pqkQZk3XSvE7twXhdPWEKgHYbnNAJHVSj9huegdBcsuBsn53NlF8_qva6GyGB18aABR7EM/s1600/Dr+Jameson+1911+census.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-ubq98Mv4TvGGrCHRpT9viZVGHrq70U6FNDWZQEpblGGchoQieJUTZrJ9FFn35jwIkxpS0pqkQZk3XSvE7twXhdPWEKgHYbnNAJHVSj9huegdBcsuBsn53NlF8_qva6GyGB18aABR7EM/s320/Dr+Jameson+1911+census.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
But whatever his name, was this a link? Did Cliffdale, having a medical connection, have anything to do with Annie becoming a nurse?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And what about the rest of the <b>Randles</b> family? Did the <b>Roberts</b> family and the <b>Randles</b> know one another in Pontesbury? Or was this merely a coincidence?<br /><br />
<br />
I'm currently working my way through both families to see if I can tie them up in any way.<br />
<br />
Then I plan to turn my attention back to those years after Annie left home but before she began her nursing training in Surrey in 1912. Where was she back then? I still haven't found her on the 1911 census. Was she hiding under an assumed name....?<br />
<br />
Perhaps if I gather enough tenuous links, and with a fair wind and the odd lucky break, I might eventually manage to join up the dots! I'll keep you posted.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-88883271887097998922016-09-30T17:13:00.000+01:002016-09-30T17:13:10.514+01:00The Mystery of Mary Ann - secrets and lies<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShfTVI4kFMCYy_OFYXnRj3NVbb9X-IKNRkhQrrDnbVBPKgjysoudJV8imoDn7OkqPByQA-3U2xqJHpPmmpOTf7FSMbaqYRZGdrrmusfp6EY4Jnrt8KMKMzyAQrEdcKLEnAISR_r8I5d3B/s1600/Annie+%2528cropped+from+family+photo%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShfTVI4kFMCYy_OFYXnRj3NVbb9X-IKNRkhQrrDnbVBPKgjysoudJV8imoDn7OkqPByQA-3U2xqJHpPmmpOTf7FSMbaqYRZGdrrmusfp6EY4Jnrt8KMKMzyAQrEdcKLEnAISR_r8I5d3B/s320/Annie+%2528cropped+from+family+photo%2529.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann 2 years before she left home</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As those of you who read this blog regularly know, one of my family mysteries is that of my great aunt <b>Mary Ann Diggory</b>, or Annie, as she was known.<br />
<br />
Annie walked out of the family home in 1904, aged 16 and, it was alleged, never made any contact with her family until she was in her 90s when shortly before she died her local vicar tracked down her youngest and only surviving sibling, my grandmother, <b>Edith Alice</b>, ten years her junior.<br />
<br />
The story has always intrigued me. Why did she go? Where did she go? And what happened to her in the intervening years from 1904 until 1982 when she sought out my gran. So since I began my family history research, it's been my mission to find out some answers.<br />
<br />
It was no secret that Annie became a nurse, training at <b>Reigate and Redhill Hospital</b>, Surrey between 1912 and 1915.<br />
<br />
In the previous post which I wrote about her, I said I'd learned that nurses were obliged to pay for their training and as Annie came from a family of six children and of modest means, I doubted it had been they who paid.<br />
<br />
Annie had volunteered for the Red Cross during WW2 and I discovered that she'd given her next of kin, not as a family member but couple she referred to as "friends", <b>Mr & Mrs Edwin F Murrell</b>, of Shrewsbury, whom Annie had been living with in 1939.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs-gOxDHUgYvpguDAslgjRFVs4jrx54SrG8miseJKUsTzYl_Xj2c9VyDCskNweqWMwWTxhnHaE3l4YRxw72qG7rHUtuyZ8r8s8itYNj2GCu-FUy7s6sfREfFfu_d10WD4hH8ekrlK6C66/s1600/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs-gOxDHUgYvpguDAslgjRFVs4jrx54SrG8miseJKUsTzYl_Xj2c9VyDCskNweqWMwWTxhnHaE3l4YRxw72qG7rHUtuyZ8r8s8itYNj2GCu-FUy7s6sfREfFfu_d10WD4hH8ekrlK6C66/s320/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Annie during her nursing years</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I wondered if the Murrells had been Annie's benefactor and I sent away for Edwin Murrell's will, wondering whether Annie was mentioned in it. But, no. There was no reference to her at all.<br />
<br />
However I <i>have</i> discovered something which blows apart the allegation that Annie had no contact with her family during her lifetime in previous years.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.ancestry.co.uk/">Ancestry.co.uk </a>recently added a <a href="http://search.ancestry.co.uk/search/group/uk_nursing_records?o_iid=72873&o_lid=72873&o_sch=Internal+List">database of nurses's registration</a>. Details gave qualifications, where qualified and the entrant's addresses. Annie's name appeared several times over a number of years, the earliest being 1925 when the record shows that by then she had returned to Shrewsbury and was living at 34 Bishop Street.<br />
<br />
I decided to check the 1911 census (the closest I could get to this date) to see who was then resident at that address. I discovered a widow, <b>Mary Downes</b>, born in Leebotwood in 1846, was living there alone and "on own means". So who was Mary Downes, I wondered? A check back to the previous census showed her at the same address. In the census before, in 1891, her husband was still alive, though then they were living in Cannock, Staffordshire, where her husband was a grocer.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4PmstFya-C6MNY3VIkO1O8DXuUiarHTEhzHNvZ_7zZNcP8TjKpu3CcppNCrnwRXGZg6oA-9zkYWUIDrevRGAJ-JP-N8mmyyAb7Qn7AN22X7UY4KvkDLizwoQoEBFsDeqws85FFCloOwB/s1600/Mary+Downes%2527+will+1935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo4PmstFya-C6MNY3VIkO1O8DXuUiarHTEhzHNvZ_7zZNcP8TjKpu3CcppNCrnwRXGZg6oA-9zkYWUIDrevRGAJ-JP-N8mmyyAb7Qn7AN22X7UY4KvkDLizwoQoEBFsDeqws85FFCloOwB/s320/Mary+Downes%2527+will+1935.jpg" width="298" /></a>Ancestry likes to be as helpful as it can and often makes suggestions as to other records which fit the person being investigated. I saw that a Mary Downes had died in 1935 and that her will was listed in the probate registry. I clicked on the entry and bingo! One of her beneficiaries was none other than <b>Mary Ann Diggory</b>!<br />
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But what was the connection? I knew from the 1891 census that Mary's husband was <b>Samuel Downes </b>so I searched the marriages on <a href="http://www.freebmd.org.uk/">FreeBMD</a> for <b>Samuel Downes</b> in Shropshire hoping that would give me more information. There was a <b>Samuel Downes</b> who'd married a Mary Finch but that didn't ring any bells.<br />
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Then another of Ancestry's prompts pointed me towards marriages across the border in Staffordshire and I hit the jackpot. Samuel Downes had married Mary Roberts, father, Timothy Roberts in 1890, in <b>Sedgely</b>, Staffordshire, the same place where Annie's family lived. Roberts was the maiden name of Annie's mother, <b>Eliza</b>. Elisa's father was also called Timothy and her elder brother, Thomas, had been born in <b>Leebotwood,</b> like Mary. Got it! Mary was Eliza's sister and therefore Annie's aunt!<br />
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While it's comforting to know Annie wasn't completely estranged from her family, I'm curious about who knew that Annie was living with her aunt. Was it a secret between the sisters, perhaps? Or was Mary the only family member not to turn her back on the young woman?<br />
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That, sadly, sounds like the case given that Mary died in 1935 and if bridges had been mended during her lifetime, Annie wouldn't have cited the Murrells as her next of kin during the 1940s.<br />
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But I still don't even know what her connection <i>was </i>with the Murrells! As ever, the mystery continues and the search for the truth goes on.<br />
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I found Annie living with the Murrells on the <b><a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/1939register?ms_directroutematches=system.collections.generic.list%601%5Bsystem.web.routing.routedata%5D">1939 Register</a>.</b> You can search the database via <b><a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/1939register?ms_directroutematches=system.collections.generic.list%601%5Bsystem.web.routing.routedata%5D">Findmypast </a></b>website.</div>
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If you know when someone died, you can search the probate records and order a copy of a will via the government <b><a href="https://www.gov.uk/search-will-probate">Probate website</a>.</b></div>
<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-16272745609399867682016-08-31T16:04:00.000+01:002016-08-31T16:04:02.844+01:00Mystery Medic - the trail begins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We all have them – photos of people of whose identity is a mystery. But this is a particularly interesting one.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjeA_xi3VVXF_WccpRPNp1XdfodRmz2Csll5CjeLweYtmD5XFFLImiRZlTzTjasxfwIiLPQn72LSmPA1HJ6PYiBhp1LgpXkct6SO9cD4xtDcLUpg6aD40D49QlvF5O6Y6fbZfi6vkRISV/s1600/Unknown+RAMC+officer001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjeA_xi3VVXF_WccpRPNp1XdfodRmz2Csll5CjeLweYtmD5XFFLImiRZlTzTjasxfwIiLPQn72LSmPA1HJ6PYiBhp1LgpXkct6SO9cD4xtDcLUpg6aD40D49QlvF5O6Y6fbZfi6vkRISV/s400/Unknown+RAMC+officer001.jpg" width="297" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who is our mystery medic?<br /></td></tr>
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As you can probably tell from the image, it's a studio photograph, and is a good size at 8" x 6". We found it in a photo album of random, but precious, family photographs put together by my husband's mum.<br />
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This photo belonged to his grandmother, <b>Caroline Matilda Saunders</b> (nee <b>Long)</b> and has "<i>Mrs Saunders" </i>written on the back in a hand my husband doesn't recognise. Sadly though, it doesn't have the name of the sitter.<br />
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A browse online revealed that the gentleman's cap badge is that of the <b>Royal Army Medical Corps,</b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxvjWw_YD5Os0VqR5e_WwuslcAPIC8GT7b9p1EXfnPsZNvwQ5MM-RdCu618t2ZJcISsBGDRgsH93KgsKqKOH10BBZS3Q-De9MQsUyIjOIh_h_qt_CS_HmwdkcxvdX7-uUGTrGjyU6_7xH/s1600/RAMC+capbadge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxvjWw_YD5Os0VqR5e_WwuslcAPIC8GT7b9p1EXfnPsZNvwQ5MM-RdCu618t2ZJcISsBGDRgsH93KgsKqKOH10BBZS3Q-De9MQsUyIjOIh_h_qt_CS_HmwdkcxvdX7-uUGTrGjyU6_7xH/s200/RAMC+capbadge.jpg" width="148" /></a>an organisation formed in 1898.<br />
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An #AncestryHour friend identified the "pips" on his shoulder as those of a lieutenant.<br />
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I've also been told that most of the officers in the R.A.M.C. would have been doctors.<br />
So, who is he?<br />
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The fact that Caroline was given an "official" photograph, and that she kept it amongst her most treasured possessions, suggests that he was significant to her. He would be a contemporary of her own daughter – so, a nephew, perhaps? The logical initial trail to follow, then, would be to identify all her nephews and establish whether any of them were in the R.A.M.C. or, indeed, if any were doctors. As it's a branch of the family I've not researched in any great depth, it could be a long job, particularly as Caroline had eight brothers and sisters.<br />
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But then, of course, he could be someone from the her husband's side of the family, <b>Alfred Joseph Saunders</b>, whose picture you can see below, left. Any family resemblance, do you think? Something about the nose, perhaps? (Sadly, Alfred died in 1929. I wrote about his sad story in my post, <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/tantalizing-clues.html">Tantalising Clues</a>.)</b><br />
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Alfred also came from a large family. He was the youngest of eight, with five brothers and two sisters.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypBLf_Y6igTFxkAIr8vHnctSdE_Mc5kb33OvGJLWPHZt-UyG5TtaYQpgtEqu_bxKBVct9_7o1L5X-3hyphenhyphenKJGKI8ps13FNYGF0FgUfncM-GpWARsdFsM6glEFoYg0sIS-W-pzY5fmii_rs3/s1600/Alfred+Joseph+SAUNDERS+%2528cropped%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypBLf_Y6igTFxkAIr8vHnctSdE_Mc5kb33OvGJLWPHZt-UyG5TtaYQpgtEqu_bxKBVct9_7o1L5X-3hyphenhyphenKJGKI8ps13FNYGF0FgUfncM-GpWARsdFsM6glEFoYg0sIS-W-pzY5fmii_rs3/s320/Alfred+Joseph+SAUNDERS+%2528cropped%2529.jpg" width="271" /></a><br />
Perhaps, I wondered, our man was killed during WW2 and this was the reason for Caroline to have received his photograph?<br />
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So, on a whim, I went on the <a href="http://www.cwgc.org/">Commonwealth War Graves Commission</a> website and put the name <b>Saunders</b> into the search engine, along with a reference to the <b>Royal Army Medical Corps</b>.<br />
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Up popped an <b>Albert Henry Saunders</b>, a lieutenant, serving in the R.A.M.C. who died in Italy in 1944. Could this be him?<br />
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But Saunders is too common a surname for such a scatter-gun approach. Besides, as Caroline had both sisters and sister-in-laws, the surname may not be <b>Saunders</b> at all. Time to get back to my systematic trawl and try and establish some more tangible links.<br />
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Surely someone as distinguished as this officer must turn up somewhere!<br />
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The <b>Army Medical Corps</b> has a museum in Aldershot. More about it, including advice on researching individuals, can be found on their website, <a href="http://www.ams-museum.org.uk/museum/">www.ams-museum.org.uk</a></div>
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If you have medics in the family, whether nurses or doctors, military or civilian, Michelle Higg's book, <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tracing-Your-Medical-Ancestors-Historians/dp/1848842775/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1472651144&sr=1-1&keywords=tracing+your+medical+ancestors">Tracing Your Medical Ancestors</a>, is an informative resource on the history of medicine practitioners as well as where to find their records.</div>
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<a href="http://home.ancestry.co.uk/">Ancestry.co.uk</a> have just added to their website, a database of Nursing records, covering a period from 1891-1968. These include nurses registered with the Royal College of Nursing.<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-65293184894241185022016-07-28T17:05:00.000+01:002016-07-28T17:05:03.905+01:00Insights from a postcard and a mystery aunt<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTaKh9amY2_9jptcO0e5hVGmzsYsr5jTeKiTgbZSnRj9QAYjIrrp2UCQSm234J8FPxtYEbYmjktKu6LTwAHk3Q92X4fOf2V-9YwDONOORs64ToYlwWJtg37b3yO6BM_deDmGvv-TvOYQr/s1600/Postcard+pile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTaKh9amY2_9jptcO0e5hVGmzsYsr5jTeKiTgbZSnRj9QAYjIrrp2UCQSm234J8FPxtYEbYmjktKu6LTwAHk3Q92X4fOf2V-9YwDONOORs64ToYlwWJtg37b3yO6BM_deDmGvv-TvOYQr/s320/Postcard+pile.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The leaning tower of family postcards!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXgkSvmAYd863jh0_1iQt8tvxl44DmZfAV2pwQSId5NNarng9Ic_Ak8wZCKKLRTkEBDW77uj2fk8HCdxirFkD5OFBGtSzv2HkKyoRyMOW6Fe92gRQg88CS5eLIMgpejcd7RxuR1UZ1Exh/s1600/Postcards+laid+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGXgkSvmAYd863jh0_1iQt8tvxl44DmZfAV2pwQSId5NNarng9Ic_Ak8wZCKKLRTkEBDW77uj2fk8HCdxirFkD5OFBGtSzv2HkKyoRyMOW6Fe92gRQg88CS5eLIMgpejcd7RxuR1UZ1Exh/s320/Postcards+laid+out.jpg" width="192" /></a><br />
My dad was always complaining about the amount of old postcards my gran left which he said cluttered up his cupboards. While sorting through them recently, I can see what he meant! She must have kept every holiday postcard she'd ever been sent by holidaying family and friends.<br />
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Amongst the designated albums and neat overflow piles, some bound in thick elastic bands, I also found postcards from my mum's side of the family. A true written history of the places people went and what they did while they were there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ViudkmvlrsU5P2Sg_UJejRGk_W7G4xDrnQ60peys3F0MTUpbLf_ojpsTOfvupihuGtsUMqDFtYGa25Uiuy5z52N7XjGCTXgU12m_IHfSg2V9ciWEsMIWNnsyr4czSoYhyphenhyphenbXtQjqo6cmn/s1600/WW1+Abide+with+me003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ViudkmvlrsU5P2Sg_UJejRGk_W7G4xDrnQ60peys3F0MTUpbLf_ojpsTOfvupihuGtsUMqDFtYGa25Uiuy5z52N7XjGCTXgU12m_IHfSg2V9ciWEsMIWNnsyr4czSoYhyphenhyphenbXtQjqo6cmn/s200/WW1+Abide+with+me003.jpg" width="122" /></a>As well as those sent on holiday, the collection included postcards from the <b>First World War</b>, on which verses of <i>Abide with Me</i> were printed below images of soldiers in pensive mode, occasionally being comforted by nurses.<br />
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Letters and postcards from home were understandably of vital importance to the morale of the soldiers and you can read more about the subject in an online article called <a href="https://www.worldwar1postcards.com/soldiers-mail.php">Tommy's Mail and the Army Post Office.</a> Sadly, the ones I found were blank.<br />
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Many of the postcards in my family's collection are simply photographic records of places around the UK, often of locations I know well and have hardly changed over time, such as Clovelly in Devon and Porlock in Somerset.<br />
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But it's those with messages written on the reverse which fascinate me most. Several are of the "letter card" variety, allowing space for more than just a brief note.<br />
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If I was expecting something monumentous amongst these newsy scribbled messages, often written in pencil and difficult to read, I shouldn't really have been surprised to find their content dominated by - yes, you guessed it (We <i>are</i> talking about British holiday postcards, don't forget) - the weather!<br />
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<i>The weather is good so far, although it's been dull this afternoon </i>or <i>...not a lot of sunshine but not too bad </i>and <i>the weather today shown some improvement after being very rough and cool since last Friday. </i>So - that's one myth debunked. Summers in the early 1950s weren't an everlasting sun-fest, after all!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vm45f9UiJjch0BKpPRPcSOzDizoGMEAYV-6kCYyMVyDSJTeZjTtvzk0znFhTHP_IikZwsFY9ArRZPQdw8WKkoi8G_d2TqHW1P76H1SrTZGBQ3MhO3tRvfTEemZhA_eUPqviqAa_mUknQ/s1600/Letter+card+front004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3vm45f9UiJjch0BKpPRPcSOzDizoGMEAYV-6kCYyMVyDSJTeZjTtvzk0znFhTHP_IikZwsFY9ArRZPQdw8WKkoi8G_d2TqHW1P76H1SrTZGBQ3MhO3tRvfTEemZhA_eUPqviqAa_mUknQ/s200/Letter+card+front004.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Even so, the cards do give an insight into holiday life back then. Comments such as, <i>I've let Dad do the writing so I can do a bit of knitting. The scenery is very nice. </i>Another read, <i>Tomorrow I am going to the Scarborough Folk Dance class </i>and, <i>Sat on pier this morning and watched the navy, submarines, M.T.Ps and the steamer going round the island. </i>(M.T.Ps? Answers on a postcard... ?)<br />
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One letter gave a summary of the hotel guests. <i>3 honeymoon couples, 2 engaged couples, 3 single men & the balance of the usuals. </i>Presumably the recipient was perfectly clear what constituted "the usuals"!<br />
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A card from Hastings in Sussex began, <i>Having got over the wedding we are now having a good time. </i>What on earth happened at the wedding, I wonder, to cause Sam & Elsie (whoever they were) such trauma that they needed a holiday to get over it?<br />
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There was the odd complaint, too. <i>Don't think much of the shops. None had cream cakes. </i>Another said (and my apologies to inhabitants of the Isle of Wight), <i>Visited Sandown but it's not as nice as Shanklin.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJ4hgMuF8F0jvUBEzfIDYH_x7awoOu_OCJyQ-ZC19FTQaqM12gp_EYA6LSxmwA_2_MumVShpmstJwnaDhLyTMits8sAWPbMK8R4Kz_FdbAZVWG6oUSdNoHFLNLr1CJQoBzMRPEQS7koOU/s1600/Postcard+Hyde+Park001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTJ4hgMuF8F0jvUBEzfIDYH_x7awoOu_OCJyQ-ZC19FTQaqM12gp_EYA6LSxmwA_2_MumVShpmstJwnaDhLyTMits8sAWPbMK8R4Kz_FdbAZVWG6oUSdNoHFLNLr1CJQoBzMRPEQS7koOU/s200/Postcard+Hyde+Park001.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
One brief message, though, intrigued me. It was from my Great Auntie Hilda, written to her sister and showing a photo of Hyde Park. <i>4.30 In the train, </i>it said. <i>Have had a wonderful time and engaged every minute. Will tell you more when I see you. </i>But what fascinated me most was a note on the top in a different ink, as though it was added later. <i>Please let me know Aunty Sally's address. </i><br />
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Aunty Sally? Who's she? Didn't even know there was a Sally in the <br />
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family. A quick check reminded me that Sally was often a pet form of Sarah. Hilda's mother was called Sarah but she obviously wasn't referring to her mother. However Hilda's uncle, <b>Jabez Griffiths</b>, married a <b>Sarah Ann Astley</b>. Was she known as Sally, to avoid confusion in the family?<br />
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It so happens that I've not been able to track a <b>Sarah Ann Astley</b> before her marriage to Jabez. Perhaps I should have been looking for a <i>Sally</i> Astley instead? Now, there's a thought... Don't you just love it when a chance discovery sends you off on another trail!<br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-57821140150718179282016-06-29T17:01:00.000+01:002016-06-29T17:01:31.545+01:00The mystery of Mary Ann Mary Ann Diggory's story is one of those intriguing family mysteries about which no one ever spoke. And, of course, by the time I became interested enough to start asking questions, the main source of answers - her younger sister, my grandmother - was no longer with us.<br />
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Mary Ann was the eldest child of <b>Thomas </b>and <b>Eliza</b> <b>Diggory</b> (nee <b>Roberts</b>) and was born in 1888. In the photograph below, taken around 1902, she's standing at the back, next to her sister <b>Nellie</b> (b. 1891). Her brother <b>Tom</b> (b.1893) is in the centre, twins <b>Hannah</b> and <b>George</b> (b. 1892) stand either side of the group and my grandmother, <b>Edith</b> (b.1898) is in the front.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNAXGU6KIsL60P1HH6TEx88WhyphenhyphenNakuyyQI9hhkknSmlcAWbTUU2nEMOo4flYOr3YkJNmpjlDctMVC5GFJX_npAbTdHfhOn2koJacxl_7TTucmscTvSdi_D-IJRwqGDKHPYcCTYAqJVrf_/s1600/Diggory+Family+Group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNAXGU6KIsL60P1HH6TEx88WhyphenhyphenNakuyyQI9hhkknSmlcAWbTUU2nEMOo4flYOr3YkJNmpjlDctMVC5GFJX_npAbTdHfhOn2koJacxl_7TTucmscTvSdi_D-IJRwqGDKHPYcCTYAqJVrf_/s400/Diggory+Family+Group.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann standing at the back of the group.<br />Her youngest sibling, my grandmother, is beside their mother.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">Walked out</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
As I've mentioned before on this blog, all I knew was that Annie (as she was known) walked out of the family home in 1904, aged 16, about two years after the above photograph was taken. That was the last anyone heard of her for almost 80 years, until my grandmother was contacted by the vicar of Annie's local church, shortly before Annie died in 1982.<br />
<br />
Whether I'll ever discover exactly why she left all those years before, is questionable. I haven't been able to confirm the most obvious scenario, having come across no illegitimate babies with the surname Diggory, born within a few months of her leaving home, though, of course, that doesn't rule out such a possibility. At that time unofficial adoptions were common, so if Annie <i>did</i> have a child, he or she may be registered under a different name.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">Lost in the census</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
Frustratingly I've not tracked Annie on 1911 census, either. There's someone of the same age recorded as <b>Mary <i>Annabel</i> Diggory</b>, who's a 'trained nurse' working as a servant in a care home in Hereford (as you'll see below, Annie did become a nurse so it's possible that her employer gave her that status and she called herself <i>Annabel</i> to disguise her real name).<br />
<br />
Another possibility is a <b>Mrs M Diggory</b>, living in <b>Kinnerley</b> in <b>Shropshire</b> but she's only listed in a Summary Book, so there's no information about age. One other person, male, is mentioned as part of the household but I'd need more to go on to work out if it's Annie.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">Nursing badges</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr3iSse6rSgH7gez1AEkX8o68e5rLeWvQpFykWzJL3XKhVCXr4ZRyype2VZFKhoxZ5QAQ5vM5KFkXb8Fdzpqa9oDYKWk_K5yeZLLEZvgl9LgUbhiB0GZ2K5VLNe3JUeQB1v6KTXrVCnlv/s1600/Annie%2527s+nurse+badge+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvr3iSse6rSgH7gez1AEkX8o68e5rLeWvQpFykWzJL3XKhVCXr4ZRyype2VZFKhoxZ5QAQ5vM5KFkXb8Fdzpqa9oDYKWk_K5yeZLLEZvgl9LgUbhiB0GZ2K5VLNe3JUeQB1v6KTXrVCnlv/s200/Annie%2527s+nurse+badge+cropped.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJy8gijpXjCwrWI6Il8CrnHG_p5roJEAq8XIe3fQBeqVzJb6IH7wh7TvqWsGwy45YwskATaVzrsI-f3_WA0xv2mRezvoh1NvGJJvx10ylq3NjyZ68W7yYpl4662mCP1sfKfAxK1ZN2Noiy/s1600/East+Surrey+Hospital+Training+School+Badge+cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJy8gijpXjCwrWI6Il8CrnHG_p5roJEAq8XIe3fQBeqVzJb6IH7wh7TvqWsGwy45YwskATaVzrsI-f3_WA0xv2mRezvoh1NvGJJvx10ylq3NjyZ68W7yYpl4662mCP1sfKfAxK1ZN2Noiy/s200/East+Surrey+Hospital+Training+School+Badge+cropped.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
One thing I did know, is that Annie was a nurse and had trained at <b>Redhill Hospital</b>. Recently, while sorting through my late Dad's things, I came across a little box of medals and badges, amongst which were three which had belonged to Annie.<br />
<br />
In the left photograph is her <b>S.R.N. </b>(State Registered Nurse) badge, engraved with her name and registration number, dated 1923 when nurses were registered for the first time. On the right is an <b>East Surrey Hospital Training School</b> badge.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMH45z33N3PGUb9H7-w-gRI3_Hz5ULvULoIDdfSiAbS9ZAqtSCMjeMFCeMmvksNpDSbwHlHG9VES6Yx2iHO3Tq-KoqbCVbtz7LP_g-VGM7w4QfnOPiO0RGdf0KrFpiZ12vbXPlfiPrMOUG/s1600/Reigate+and+Redhill+Hospital+1866+badge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMH45z33N3PGUb9H7-w-gRI3_Hz5ULvULoIDdfSiAbS9ZAqtSCMjeMFCeMmvksNpDSbwHlHG9VES6Yx2iHO3Tq-KoqbCVbtz7LP_g-VGM7w4QfnOPiO0RGdf0KrFpiZ12vbXPlfiPrMOUG/s320/Reigate+and+Redhill+Hospital+1866+badge.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Another badge, beautifully set in enamel, has East Surrey Hospital's previous name, <b>Reigate & Redhill Hospital</b> around the edge, along with the date 1866. This is the year the original Reigate Hospital was established by <b>Dr John Walters</b> when money was raised to convert two cottages into a hospital. Five years later a new hospital was built on the edge of Redhill Common and the two names were combined.<br />
<br />
I drew a blank searching for an image of this badge on the Internet so I consulted Surrey Archives. They believe it may have been produced as a commemoration piece for the 50th anniversary, possibly for fund raising purposes.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">The Red Cross</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQboLD7Q4i4ohPwSOvk_ubbn8IBGFnLAPH5lGvAQWv9GUZdVROFlnzxS1gFyxbFAWxoqahq4HeDdFv2uPw_TO-QS-LGHVLW6rZJes22Jh0r0WYtQZ-HBF93DDB0o79GaXirCsAa5JYXUDA/s1600/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQboLD7Q4i4ohPwSOvk_ubbn8IBGFnLAPH5lGvAQWv9GUZdVROFlnzxS1gFyxbFAWxoqahq4HeDdFv2uPw_TO-QS-LGHVLW6rZJes22Jh0r0WYtQZ-HBF93DDB0o79GaXirCsAa5JYXUDA/s320/Mary+Ann+%2528Annie%2529+Diggory0001.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Ann Diggory 1888-1982</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But why did Annie choose to train in Surrey when she lived in Shropshire? Perhaps it's tied in with an interesting fact I learned from <a href="http://www.michellehiggs.co.uk/"><b>Michelle Higgs</b></a>, author of <b style="font-style: italic;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Tracing-Your-Medical-Ancestors-Historians-ebook/dp/B0094JTM5M/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1467051083&sr=1-6&keywords=michelle+higgs">Tracing Your Medical Ancestors</a> </b>(a copy of which I have on my family history bookshelf) who I often meet on Twitter's <a href="http://www.ancestryhour.co.uk/">#AncestryHour</a>.<br />
<br />
Michelle tells me that nurses generally paid for their training. I can't imagine Annie's family having access to such financial resources, even if she <i>had</i> still been in contact with them, so my immediate thought was that she must have had a benefactor. And I have an idea who that may be. But more on that in a moment.<br />
<br />
A few years ago I came across an article in a family history magazine about the <b>British Red Cross</b>. For a donation, family members could establish if their nursing ancestors ever worked with the organisation. I got in touch and found to my delight that Annie appeared in their records. These confirmed that Annie had trained at East Surrey Hospital between 1912 and 1915. Also, they revealed that during WW2, Annie was appointed Sister in Charge at a Red Cross convalescent hospital in <b>Childs Ercall, Market Drayton, Salop, </b>serving for 2 years from 1941-43. Unfortunately, no one in <b>Shropshire Archives</b> is aware of the existence of such a hospital. It's possible Childs Ercall Hall may have been used for the purpose. Enquiries are underway...<br />
<br />
Annie's British Red Cross records also noted that she'd worked at the <b>Kent & Canterbury Hospital</b> and the <b>Princess Alice Hospital</b> in Eastbourne. Although I haven't established exact dates as yet, I'm hopeful of tracking down staff records from the individual hospitals to learn more about her working life.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">Secret sponsor?</span></h3>
<div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
But back to the mystery sponsor. On Annie's record notes was the name of her next of kin. Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised that no one in her immediate family was named but instead <b style="font-style: italic;">Mr & Mrs E F Murrell, Shrewsbury </b>were cited as 'friends'. The Murrell family were well known in Shropshire as nurserymen and award winning rose growers, running the prestigious Portland Nurseries, founded by <b>Edwin Murrell </b>(father of this Edwin F Murrell) in the 1830s.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, the <b><a href="http://www.findmypast.co.uk/1939register">1939 Register</a></b>, taken on the eve of <b>World War II</b>, finds Annie living in the Murrell's family home in <b>Shrewsbury</b>. Was <b>Mr Edwin Foley Murrell</b> the person who paid for Annie's nurse training? As as a enterprising businessman, did he have contacts in Surrey? And what was Annie's connection with the family?<br />
<br />
And if that's not enough to be going on with, what about those intervening years from 1904, between when she left home and started her training? What was she doing then? Where did she go? Were the Murrell's involved then?<br />
<br />
As ever, there is so much more yet to find out about Annie and her life before she was reunited with my grandmother. But I'm on the case!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*******************************************</div>
<br />
If you've nursing ancestors there are several websites worth checking out:<br />
<br />
The British Red Cross: <a href="http://www.redcross.org.uk/About-us/Who-we-are/Museum-and-archives/Historical-factsheets/Nurses-and-hospitals">http://www.redcross.org.uk/About-us/Who-we-are/Museum-and-archives/Historical-factsheets/Nurses-and-hospitals</a><br />
<br />
The Royal College of Nursing's archive:<br />
<a href="https://www.rcn.org.uk/library/services/family-history-and-research">https://www.rcn.org.uk/library/services/family-history-and-research</a><br />
<br />
Scarlet Finders has some very useful information on various sources: <a href="http://www.scarletfinders.co.uk/2.html">http://www.scarletfinders.co.uk/2.html</a><br />
<br />
The National Archives holds some records along with helpful research guides:<br />
<a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/help-with-your-research/research-guides/patients-doctors-nurses/">http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/help-with-your-research/research-guides/patients-doctors-nurses/</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-50747361632933940612016-05-31T22:12:00.002+01:002021-02-11T09:38:01.788+00:00Preserving the memories<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/AVvXsEieUz5KqmgCG8ebDVEvFvcbkofsogiKHZnipCzOAw3P7ojxK0mT8t-cSfVerLtReawnnAoauHL9J6BlJ-KIu_ZsFsIhnYTLZIOKFC2q1U7beBSGnd6Dqt_EId5B0gF_Q2N___bXTNUUawSR/s1600/Dad005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieUz5KqmgCG8ebDVEvFvcbkofsogiKHZnipCzOAw3P7ojxK0mT8t-cSfVerLtReawnnAoauHL9J6BlJ-KIu_ZsFsIhnYTLZIOKFC2q1U7beBSGnd6Dqt_EId5B0gF_Q2N___bXTNUUawSR/s320/Dad005.jpg" width="204" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad in 1956, aged 27</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There's no easy way to say it, but 7th May 2016 saw the end of an era as my dear dad passed away, aged 87. When I stood up to speak at his funeral, my question was, "How do you sum up the life of 87 years in a few minutes?" The answer, of course, is that you can't. All you can do is share some stories which give a sense of the person the mourners are there to remember.<br />
<br />
Some of those present had known Dad for many years, others for only a short time. But I wondered how many knew the full story behind an incident in Dad's childhood which had a profound effect on his rest of his life.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA1houExTXMufG2u0acO8xSsLRFUnCX_SC09DlMcFFapPKj5fHTenKJpD03SGccLLYuDxasQ5yUMkDEU-QXLmmMTAjAGsE3nHOQEAmObdMfkgqrfTpkxErixqreN7Ci2dY9JXB4BoUqRR/s1600/Dad002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaA1houExTXMufG2u0acO8xSsLRFUnCX_SC09DlMcFFapPKj5fHTenKJpD03SGccLLYuDxasQ5yUMkDEU-QXLmmMTAjAGsE3nHOQEAmObdMfkgqrfTpkxErixqreN7Ci2dY9JXB4BoUqRR/s200/Dad002.jpg" width="154" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad and his brother with 'Paddy' the dog </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Dad was born on 12th February 1929, Shrove Tuesday of that year, in <b>Tettenhall, Wolverhampton</b>. When he was a few months old he and his family - my grandparents and Dad's elder brother - moved to the lodge of a large house called <b>The Foxhills</b>, near <b>Wombourne</b>, where granddad worked as the gardener. <br />
<br />
The story goes that while playing with the family dog, Paddy, Dad got entangled in Paddy's lead, and fell off a wall, hurting his leg. Whether this was the accident to blame or another, when Dad got his leg trapped in his pedal car and ended up in plaster from his neck to his leg for many months, is impossible to establish - I'm not sure even Dad knew for certain - but it seems that at some point his hip became infected with TB, impeding the growth of his right leg.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfUex7X2uHyr-rQjHdDK4SqDojM4rN_XKgfyyTJNRy5LnEnhvA4uQcxT4trtD0jreJ6bxzF2PfIYl8-X9WYaU0iuThO3RmpVKfMwtYTIvi5uWoor_jqjpPyb4plGVGRa6aBi1rJi-c56-/s1600/Dad004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfUex7X2uHyr-rQjHdDK4SqDojM4rN_XKgfyyTJNRy5LnEnhvA4uQcxT4trtD0jreJ6bxzF2PfIYl8-X9WYaU0iuThO3RmpVKfMwtYTIvi5uWoor_jqjpPyb4plGVGRa6aBi1rJi-c56-/s320/Dad004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Standon Hall Hospital</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">At the age of 7, Dad was admitted to <b>Standon Hall
Orthopaedic and TB hospital</b>, in Staffordshire, some 40 miles away from his home. With buses the only form of transport available to them, my grandparents were only able to visit once a week, at best. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dad remained in
Standon Hall for three years. As a child I often remember thinking I must have
that wrong – surely he could have been in hospital for <i>three years.</i> But he was. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You can see a photo of him below, flat on his back,
grinning out from his hospital bed. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 17.12px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9toR_MkLbr2UiW6ElsvGRXkSilaKHfX9Ml1CH358siu9RAKwwUFBHuT6ti-0oC8fpLWvVnKaCGN3fOqZ1xuPxupkOwZUtUHi8LCSEQLSLNGSVO7xbKAZtA3YhEM0WGw9i5ofmIcVfXD8/s1600/Dad003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY9toR_MkLbr2UiW6ElsvGRXkSilaKHfX9Ml1CH358siu9RAKwwUFBHuT6ti-0oC8fpLWvVnKaCGN3fOqZ1xuPxupkOwZUtUHi8LCSEQLSLNGSVO7xbKAZtA3YhEM0WGw9i5ofmIcVfXD8/s320/Dad003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad in bed August 1938 with my grandmother <br />
and nurses from Standon Hall Hospital</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I sometimes wonder how long he’d have languished there if
the Second World War had not broken out. In 1939 the hospital was evacuated in
preparation for the anticipated wounded soldiers and Dad was sent home. He told
me recently about the feeling of claustrophobia at moving from a large ward
with high ceilings back to the small lodge cottage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But I suspect the move proved to be his salvation. He was now in the care of my grandmother, who made it her mission to defy
the medics saying that Dad would never walk again. Her legacy was to instil
in him his stoic disregard for what anyone else would call a disability and get
on with life. He considered himself capable of doing what anyone else could, including, as he grew up, riding a motorbike. When he came off
it, his doctor censured him severely, telling him the machines were not
intended to be ridden by someone with a "gammy" leg!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With little education during those early years, it's to Dad's credit that he knuckled down at school, attended college, went to night-school, completed an apprenticeship and carved out a successful career in engineering as a tools designer. And while he could be stubborn sometimes to the point of exasperation, it's probably that stubbornness and determination which enabled him to achieve what he did. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As family historians, we delve deep into the past to discover people's stories and, quite rightly, bring mere names to life, but it's equally important to record our memories of the family we've known well and to share those memories, so they don't get lost or, worse, become "brick walls" of the future.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In recent years Dad had responded to my suggestion that he should log his memoirs and I began transcribing some of the audio tapes he made, prompted by questions I set him. We went through some old photo albums and he identified those people he could. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've since discovered a few scribbled notes and a simple time-line he'd drawn of his life, the countries he'd travelled to and a list of all the employers he'd worked for. He'd kept every passport he'd owned, every driving licence and every Tax Code notification document from 1954! I think I'm going to be kept pretty busy going through it all!</span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">P. John Shelley<br />
12.2.1929 - 7.5.2016</td></tr>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-89848888764342693342016-04-28T15:22:00.000+01:002016-04-28T15:22:03.444+01:00Secrets in print!As you know if you've been reading this blog for a while, my initiation into family history was the discovery of an Australian death certificate for my husband's ancestor,<b> Charles Gabriel Baker</b>.<br />
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I've mentioned him and his sad story in one or two blog posts in the past, but recently I decided to gather all the information I'd collated and write an article about the long trail I followed to uncover the truth about what happened to Charles and his family.<br />
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Having completed the tale, I decided to submit it to <a href="http://family-tree.co.uk/"><b>Family Tree Magazine</b></a> and I was delighted when they accepted it for publication.<br />
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So, I'm thrilled to announce that the article appears in May's issue of the magazine,<br />
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which is <b><span style="font-size: large;">out now</span></b>!</div>
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Here's a taster of the first page of my article, beautifully presented by the editing team across 4 pages.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZC51njZpnox2RwpJiJWnQqSGsxg8PpeJ4kd4s968MCR9TehXJDu-O8OTfEG29Hxl-d9zc3RGpoeP1OHr6pYioR4M7OJj15gkZ5oSsCKCRz1UoylQ-UMbWjUYQqJQcajzpHzTYDLuOa0B/s1600/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSZC51njZpnox2RwpJiJWnQqSGsxg8PpeJ4kd4s968MCR9TehXJDu-O8OTfEG29Hxl-d9zc3RGpoeP1OHr6pYioR4M7OJj15gkZ5oSsCKCRz1UoylQ-UMbWjUYQqJQcajzpHzTYDLuOa0B/s640/FT+article+A+death+down+under.jpg" width="451" /></a></div>
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If you'd like a copy of the magazine to hold in your hot, sticky hands, <b>WH Smiths </b>stores generally stock it, or you can download an e-version direct from <b><a href="http://family-tree.co.uk/2016/04/family-tree-may-2016/">Family Tree Magazine's own website</a>.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Otherwise, you can learn something about <b>Charles Baker</b>'s story from these previous posts:<br />
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<ol>
<li>About the amazing information on his death certificate in <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/death-and-its-secrets.html">Death and its secrets</a></li>
<li>How he met his wife, Susan Sawyer, in <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2014/02/romance-in-records.html">Romance in the Records</a></li>
<li>Speculation as to why he went to Australia in <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2013/11/in-deep-midwinter-blog-hop.html">Ancestors in the Spotlight</a></li>
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<h3>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>So what's next</b>...</span></h3>
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Having concluded my 4 part story of <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-1.html">The Shocking Truth</a> about my wayward ancestor <b>Thomas Shelley</b> and his housekeepr, I've now got to decide what's the next family secret to uncover and share with you in future posts! Mmmmm..... let me see....</div>
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-66966550892739110572016-03-30T15:56:00.002+01:002016-03-30T15:59:07.290+01:00Assault and Cruelty - the victimThe final instalment in the sad story of <b>Martha Cotterill </b>and <b>Bessie Shelley </b>reveals more tragic events in Bessie's life and her shocking death.<br />
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(If you have arrived here unaware of the previous posts in this tale, you can read them at <i><b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-1.html">A family secret - the shocking truth part 1</a>, <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-2.html">part 2</a></b></i> and <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-perpetrator.html"><i><b>Assault and cruelty - the perpetrator</b></i>.</a>)<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Of feeble intellect</span></h4>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.8192px; line-height: 16.2288px;">©Courtesy of British Newspaper Archive</span></td></tr>
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Several times in newspaper reports of the magistrates' hearing, Bessie was referred to as being of "weak" or "feeble intellect". No mention is made of this on any of the census entries on which Bessie appears, though the actual term "feeble-minded" wasn't introduced until the 1901 census, over 20 years after her death. Could it have been Martha's treatment, firstly by the ignominious way in which she took over the household and then the physical abuse she inflicted upon Bessie afterwards, which caused Bessie to have a mental breakdown? Or was Bessie already suffering with a mental disability before Martha arrived?<br />
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Whichever it was, it could explain why Bessie seemed unable to defend herself against Martha's bullying, more so given Thomas's obvious acquiescence at Martha's mistreatment of his wife. What options did a woman have at that time, in such a situation?<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Family despair</span></h4>
In one of the newspaper reports, it was suggested that it was Bessie's wider family who brought the abusive situation to the attention of the authorities. What did they make of the outcome? They must have despaired when Martha, despite having been found guilty, then returned to live in the household. Perhaps they hoped that Martha's behaviour towards Bessie would improve following the court action, aware that the family might instigate further action if she did not mend her ways.<br />
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Under the circumstances, it is perhaps significant and unsurprising, that the birth of Bessie's daughter, Joannah, in 1860, would prove to be her last pregnancy, at the age of 34. So, what impact did the arrival and subsequent adoption a year later of Martha's daughter, Mary Jane (who we can now be fairly certain was fathered by Thomas), have on Bessie, I wonder?<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Further tragedy</span></h4>
Maybe, with the arrival of other babies in the household (daughters Emma and Martha Ann had 3 illegitimate children of their own, all of whom spent at least some of their early years under the Shelleys's roof) the impact was softened in some way.<br />
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But even if Bessie was able to come to terms with her feelings on the matter, it was unlikely to prepare her for further sadness ahead.<br />
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In 1858, two years after the court case, Joannah died of scarlet fever, aged only 7 years old. Then two years later, in 1860, another daughter, Mary Ann Holland, died of consumption, aged 16 years.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A shocking death</span></h4>
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When Martha died in 1866, I wonder if Bessie felt any sense of release. If she did, she didn't have long to savour it. Barely six months after Martha's death, in January 1867, Bessie also died . </div>
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But what I found particularly distressing was when the certificate arrived and I read the cause of death. Above the name of the certifying doctor was one word - "<i>burning</i>".</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0L1daC7VL8c2EnlGxmQkzqjH_501KjwDmPqCsSTom6k2HZsrvPgRIijlEF06adaz97i5purDxg0HsTNIKH9LIbI6o3h8C2-wv6ylIzlBwcJgAuyyZVhQdCljQKER2umBuy8HBWJdUIqD/s1600/Bessie+Shelley+death+cert+extract+with+burning+circled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="75" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0L1daC7VL8c2EnlGxmQkzqjH_501KjwDmPqCsSTom6k2HZsrvPgRIijlEF06adaz97i5purDxg0HsTNIKH9LIbI6o3h8C2-wv6ylIzlBwcJgAuyyZVhQdCljQKER2umBuy8HBWJdUIqD/s640/Bessie+Shelley+death+cert+extract+with+burning+circled.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></h4>
<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Hunt for the truth</span></h4>
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But what did that mean? For a moment, I thought maybe Martha's maltreatment had escalated and I'd stumbled across a murder! Until I remembered that Martha was already dead.</div>
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I set off on a mission to discover the truth. At one point I feared I'd never find out, as the crucial years of the most likely newspaper to have published a report, were missing. <a href="http://www.shropshire.gov.uk/archives/">Shropshire Archives </a>made a search amongst their files of another newspaper, copies of which aren't yet available online, but found no mention of events. Neither did they find any record of an inquest. </div>
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But just as I thought I'd tried every possible source, I was prompted by <b><a href="http://findmypast.com/">findmypast.com</a> </b>to use up some credits before they expired. I made a final half-hearted browse in the <b><a href="http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/">British Newspaper database</a>,</b> in which I'd supposedly already searched, and up popped a short paragraph in <b>Eddowes's, Shrewsbury & Salopian Journal</b>, entitled <i><b>Sad death from burning at Claverley.</b></i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© British Newspaper Archive</td></tr>
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Bessie's death appears to have been a tragic accident. According to the newspaper, Thomas was at church with his son, leaving Bessie at home with her daughter and "two children". Again the newspaper mentions Bessie being of "weak intellect".</div>
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It's believed that Bessie had fallen into the kitchen fire. Ablaze, she rushed into the passageway but by the time help arrived and the flames were extinguished, it was too late. She suffered severe burns and died soon after, attended by the village nurse, <b>Ellen Braggen</b>, who also registered the death. </div>
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<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">No inquest</span></h4>
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The coroner was informed, but apparently took the view that as the cause of death was not in question, there was no need for an inquest. While that might be true, I found it a little puzzling given the report said the deceased "<i>must have fallen in the fire",</i> suggesting that the exact circumstances had not been established.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thomas & Bessie Shelley's grave<br />
in Claverley churchyard</td></tr>
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Bessie is buried in Claverley churchyard along with her husband, Thomas. The headstone would have been erected after Thomas's death in 1881, perhaps paid for out of Thomas's considerable estate of £1,451 2s 2d, which, according to Stephen Morley's <a href="http://inflation.stephenmorley.org/">Historical UK Inflation calculator</a> amounts to over £158,000 in today's money. </div>
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The wording gives no clue as to Bessie's traumatic life and death (her name is spelled "Bessey" on the headstone), only that she <i>departed this life January 7th 1877</i>. </div>
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May she rest in peace.</div>
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-20083919842778500172016-03-30T15:56:00.001+01:002016-03-30T15:58:41.140+01:00Assault and Cruelty - the perpetratorOn 31st October 1856, <b>Martha Cotterill</b> was found guilty of assault and cruelty towards my 3x great-grandmother, <b>Bessie Shelley</b>, at a magistrates's hearing in Eccleshall, Staffordshire.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwy6W-QlI0oFaSxIGScCUyXTa1BvPZ5VryP6HJ89bZr57KuC39pjDU98_Bw8z63DJ96eOUv3o1pj5Y_3dz_iSFAEe4NzF_Uy_UCsOZCXkA6cgZ_xUdvAanwS83uDfueUAIWttg-yFxi7T/s1600/Cruelty+to+Wife+article+Birmingham+Gazette++Nov+1856.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwy6W-QlI0oFaSxIGScCUyXTa1BvPZ5VryP6HJ89bZr57KuC39pjDU98_Bw8z63DJ96eOUv3o1pj5Y_3dz_iSFAEe4NzF_Uy_UCsOZCXkA6cgZ_xUdvAanwS83uDfueUAIWttg-yFxi7T/s200/Cruelty+to+Wife+article+Birmingham+Gazette++Nov+1856.PNG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">© </span>British Newspaper Archives</td></tr>
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Martha was fined £5 which would have resulted in imprisonment if Bessie's husband, <b>Thomas Shelley</b>, jointly accused but acquitted on lack of evidence, paid her fine.<br />
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(If you've not read the story so far, you might like to read the previous posts on the incident, <i>A family secret - The Shocking Truth</i>, <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-1.html">Part 1</a> and <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/02/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-2.html">Part 2</a>.)<br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Who was Martha Cotterill?</span></h4>
So who was Martha Cotterill and how did she come into Bessie's life?<br />
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Martha joined the Shelley household around 1852 as a housekeeper. According to <b>Thomas Davis</b>, a servant in Shelley's employ in 1856, he was told by Thomas that Martha should be considered mistress of the house.<br />
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It seems certain that the relationship between Thomas Shelley and Martha was more than just employer and employee. What is more difficult to establish, is whether this relationship began before Martha moved in or after. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR74rrcPzPSU7Xq6BDiTr6TPuqcv6Zq1FjmVrIj5qTiQF4GT5a2olS-p_xQgHBomzYMcuiSRu-8q7bfKf0hr5s2H3Fl1Pedsbq0T2qbynUivWoUOw-GM2qebwJYmNqp7pVS3k7s4-euZf/s1600/Church_of_St_Michael_and_All_Angels%252C_Adbaston_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1804032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnR74rrcPzPSU7Xq6BDiTr6TPuqcv6Zq1FjmVrIj5qTiQF4GT5a2olS-p_xQgHBomzYMcuiSRu-8q7bfKf0hr5s2H3Fl1Pedsbq0T2qbynUivWoUOw-GM2qebwJYmNqp7pVS3k7s4-euZf/s200/Church_of_St_Michael_and_All_Angels%252C_Adbaston_-_geograph.org.uk_-_1804032.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adbaston Church<br />
(courtesy of geograph.org.uk)</td></tr>
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A year before Martha's arrival, the 1851 census shows Thomas and Bessie (nee <b>Holland</b>) living in the small hamlet of <b>Doley, near Adbaston,</b> with their six children - <b>Emma</b> (my great-great gandmother) aged 9, <b>William</b> 7, <b>Mary Ann</b> 6, <b>Martha</b> 5, <b>Eliza </b>3 and <b>Joannah</b> 1 - along with Thomas's mother, 54 year old <b>Phoebe</b>. Thomas is a farmer of 45 acres, with one live-in servant, John Lee.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">A near neighbour</span></h4>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68112lfBxzY2KsKlvIbwGt1-axNEDKLhjjQB4so8poYWy5q86_eTb7OqYEiTMIJunrkU_s9LCLLYFxqa5DbvSCaP8JGAKovr3wDOhvszJSNbv-coCVAPkMuerg3I2uQ0b9oKZK4iob9oj/s1600/Martha+Cotrill+1851+census.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="71" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68112lfBxzY2KsKlvIbwGt1-axNEDKLhjjQB4so8poYWy5q86_eTb7OqYEiTMIJunrkU_s9LCLLYFxqa5DbvSCaP8JGAKovr3wDOhvszJSNbv-coCVAPkMuerg3I2uQ0b9oKZK4iob9oj/s320/Martha+Cotrill+1851+census.PNG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Less than 5 miles away, the same census lists <b>Martha Cotrill</b> <i>(sic)</i>, unmarried, aged 25, living with her father, <b>Thomas Cotrill</b> and mother, <b>Jane Cotrill</b>. Also listed are two grand-daughters - <b>Mary</b>, aged 1, born in Manchester and <b>Elizabeth</b>, aged 3 months, born in High Offley, Staffordshire. Are these girls both Martha's daughters?<br />
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Move on ten years and Elizabeth Cottrell, born in High Offley, appears on the 1861 census, now aged 11, but this time she is a boarder in - guess where - the Shelley household, alongside "housekeeper", Martha Cottrell.<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">A Manchester connection</span></h4>
I haven't found the other girl, Mary, but the eagle-eyed of you who read the previous posts may have noticed a connection. In the newspaper report of the assault on Bessie in 1856, it was stated that Martha had gone to Manchester some months previously to have a baby. The Mary mentioned in 1851 was also born in Manchester. What was Martha's link to Manchester? Perhaps she had family there.<br />
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Following her Manchester confinement, there's no evidence to suggest Martha returned with a child. Was it adopted? Or perhaps it didn't survive. In the December quarter of the 1855 birth index, an unnamed "male" child is listed, surname <b>Cottrill</b>, born in Manchester who subsequently died in the same quarter. Was this Martha's baby? And was Thomas Shelley the father?<br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The clue's in the name</span></h4>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qUnFDL-Spded_FWWQ5QwW3PPwhDad3-zmMMlaqhEKt_FqK6g0Uuh541OR_OpXwGRcMFx8uxjY8M2Xwuq3S2QK_WTuT_VQvrW77YSDZ38jhhS4DbmUwfxfJA5A0U7c8c3qjWKcO14eq4a/s1600/Mary+Jane+Cotterill+birth+cert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="35" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qUnFDL-Spded_FWWQ5QwW3PPwhDad3-zmMMlaqhEKt_FqK6g0Uuh541OR_OpXwGRcMFx8uxjY8M2Xwuq3S2QK_WTuT_VQvrW77YSDZ38jhhS4DbmUwfxfJA5A0U7c8c3qjWKcO14eq4a/s320/Mary+Jane+Cotterill+birth+cert.jpg" width="320" /></a>One thing <i>is</i> certain, however. Nine year-old <b>Mary J "C" Shelley</b>, who appeared on the 1871 census as Thomas's daughter, was born <b>Mary Jane Cotterill</b>, on 12th July 1861, mother Martha Cotterill. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the name of the father is not recorded on the birth certificate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXjs8uHXDL4jiZLtvUTPfTnW5AjLyL5iwlF6pJ6VeuaqdF4A7jt5YIjp9jtFyaX1bHK5nRtsm100il3NG2fF3d2Ou9aX0KUipc0eUCqQpz9LHTjcZMnABoorxJzAblPRy72FWNEkrWet6/s1600/Mary+JC+Shelley%2527s+burial.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="68" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXjs8uHXDL4jiZLtvUTPfTnW5AjLyL5iwlF6pJ6VeuaqdF4A7jt5YIjp9jtFyaX1bHK5nRtsm100il3NG2fF3d2Ou9aX0KUipc0eUCqQpz9LHTjcZMnABoorxJzAblPRy72FWNEkrWet6/s320/Mary+JC+Shelley%2527s+burial.PNG" width="320" /></a>Sadly, however, in April 1875, Mary Jane died aged only 13 and was buried in Claverley churchyard. Unfortunately, I can find no record of her death in the registration indexes under either Cotterill or Shelley, to obtain a certificate to discover the cause of death.<br />
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<h4>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Bessie's tormentor dies</span></h4>
It would be one year after Mary Jane's death and 20 years after the court case that Bessie would be finally set free from the woman who had usurped her role as Thomas's wife. In 1876 Martha died from heart disease and congestion of the lungs. The death certificate recorded her age as 54, though according to previous records, she would actually have been only 50.<br />
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It would be comforting to think that Bessie would go on to enjoy many more years with her family, but sadly it was not to be. Bessie herself died six months later in the most horrendous circumstances.<br />
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Read the full story here, <i><b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-victim.html">Assault and Cruelty - the victim</a>.</b></i><br />
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Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-843520638558708292.post-58346742581930156622016-02-29T16:27:00.003+00:002016-04-28T14:52:21.978+01:00A family secret - the shocking truth (Part 2)<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpsiNDv8heFxpwZILPKt_5bUqYUbrF8vGh5R5LI1fmUmM2j4UO3XucsABQVB60x4REe2MUNQpBu3_ZG3En_nNThXQKrRm77c_s9t4eDfYGtmV3WzaWsN4Pbz7k_D22UO-8dx4DRxRrklj/s1600/Cruelty+to+Wife+article.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQpsiNDv8heFxpwZILPKt_5bUqYUbrF8vGh5R5LI1fmUmM2j4UO3XucsABQVB60x4REe2MUNQpBu3_ZG3En_nNThXQKrRm77c_s9t4eDfYGtmV3WzaWsN4Pbz7k_D22UO-8dx4DRxRrklj/s320/Cruelty+to+Wife+article.PNG" width="284" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">©Courtesy of British Newspaper Archive</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If you've read <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/a-family-secret-shocking-truth-part-1.html">Part 1</a> </b>of this distressing story you'll know that my 3x great-grandfather, <b>Thomas Shelley</b>, disgraced himself in 1856 by failing to protect his wife, <b>Bessie</b>, from the bullying and cruelty at the hands of their housekeeper, <b>Martha Cotterill</b>.<br />
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<b>Martha Cotterill </b>was found guilty as charged and fined £5, only avoiding a spell in the "house of correction" because Thomas paid her fine.<br />
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You would think that given the community outrage and the sheer embarrassment of being hauled up in front of the magistrates court, Thomas would have seen the error of his ways and dismissed Martha from his household forthwith.<br />
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But not a bit of it. Martha appears on both the 1861 and 1871 census still living with the Shelley family, no doubt because (as the evidence I've uncovered appears to confirm) Martha was more than a mere servant. As for poor Bessie, she was yet to suffer further trauma.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">The immediate aftermath</span></h3>
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But I'm getting ahead of myself. Firstly, there was the immediate aftermath of the court case.<br />
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Whether as a result of his clients' humiliation or through his own professional loss of face, the solicitor who'd represented Thomas and Martha wrote to the <i>Staffordshire Advertiser</i>, threatening to sue the journalist who'd written the report of the case for the newspaper, on the grounds it was a libellous misrepresentation of the facts.<br />
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The solicitor in question, <b>Mr B. H. Smallwood</b>, of Newport, Shropshire, alleged that the report was <i>"grossly inaccurate"</i> and that it contained serious omissions. The newspaper disputed this but Smallwood persisted in hounding the paper with letters of complaint.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Morally guilty</span></h3>
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On 6th December 1856, the <i>Staffordshire Advertiser</i> decided to "go public" and published all the <br />
correspondence between itself and Smallwood, followed by the newspaper's counter to the objections Smallwood had raised. It defended the so-called "omissions" on the grounds that including anything further would only have strengthened the case for the prosecution.<br />
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However, the editor did make the point that the magistrate who'd delivered the decision had said that, in the opinion of the bench, Thomas Shelley was morally guilty of participating in the offence and it was only because they had no legal proof of him having actually assaulted his wife, that they'd not convicted him as well as Martha Cotterill.<br />
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But Smallwood (clearly getting up a head of steam by now!) continued with his grievance.<br />
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<span style="color: #990000;">Lost patience</span></h3>
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Finally, on 20th December, the newspaper lost patience. It published a long ranting letter from Smallwood, dated 11th December, in which he nit-picked his way through both their comments in their own defence and on items of evidence presented at the hearing. He challenged the court on allowing Bessie to be called to give evidence, given the reporter had described her as having <i>"rather feeble intellect"</i>. (If she was being bullied by Martha Cotterill to the extent alleged, I'm sure her state of mind could be explained by her terror at any repercussions she might suffer.) He also dismissed the reliability of one witness because he was a convicted felon (for poaching, apparently) and complained that the evidence of Bessie's daughter, Emma (my 2x great-grandmother) aged 15, stating her mother had <i>"never complained"</i> to her about Cotterill <i>"ill-using"</i> her, had been deliberately omitted from the newspaper report.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jCGRA8csztTRYOjo6p_Y3nnJDxwf4rsRG28vicE9KORYDHQjVWuG60nRm8dApzOshgFRiRXjOsFAQlQUmBKtfuNhgonUqnI76UJQTs6w_NiarUS1s-4cKZvm0Yu2_LqwXWFSjdBd88nX/s1600/Editor+response+to+further+letter+from+Smallwood.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9jCGRA8csztTRYOjo6p_Y3nnJDxwf4rsRG28vicE9KORYDHQjVWuG60nRm8dApzOshgFRiRXjOsFAQlQUmBKtfuNhgonUqnI76UJQTs6w_NiarUS1s-4cKZvm0Yu2_LqwXWFSjdBd88nX/s320/Editor+response+to+further+letter+from+Smallwood.PNG" width="313" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© courtesy of British Newspaper Archive</td></tr>
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The newspaper followed this with an editorial, describing Smallwood's letter as being unreasonable in length and unjustifiable in manner. The editor also declared that he was no longer prepared to sacrifice any further column space on the subject. He admitted only to their original report being necessarily curtailed (as in, being a summary, as usual in such cases, rather than ad verbatim) but reiterating that any omissions were <i>"quite as much against, as in favour of the defendants",</i> despite Mr Smallwood <i>"with all the cleverness of a shrewd member of his profession" </i>endeavouring <i>"to show the contrary."</i><br />
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Reading the detail, it's clear that Smallwood, as well as citing legal 'technicalities' (he states, for example that information presented was outside the allowed 6 month period from when the offence was committed), is peeved that a) his arguments presented at the hearing were disregarded by the magistrates, b) they over-ruled his legal objections and c) his closing speech was not published in the press. Perhaps he saw himself as a great orator with the skill to persuade all to his way of thinking, and that having presented himself as such to his clients and then promptly failing to deliver, he was desperate to redeem himself by calling "foul"!<br />
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<h3>
<span style="color: #990000;">Move away</span></h3>
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I should imagine that life was somewhat uncomfortable for Thomas following the hearing and when Sutton Mill, Claverley, became vacant soon afterwards, in January 1857, he decided to move his family out of Shebdon and away from prying eyes (or possibly worse).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4patAOhTZxfrDoWn2-YcJJ2kEdVwUhgWgNWwdzXi6niDx_XrSf3LqO5V4NRUN7nVnK2sbTcfEx0C07HZpto9EyOAvag1FkC7LeS1ouQD8th-AOl31wHHbI2fqnWK9uq5POxmOzRGDUJQq/s1600/Sutton+Mill+items+for+sale+as+owner+leaving+Jan+1857.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4patAOhTZxfrDoWn2-YcJJ2kEdVwUhgWgNWwdzXi6niDx_XrSf3LqO5V4NRUN7nVnK2sbTcfEx0C07HZpto9EyOAvag1FkC7LeS1ouQD8th-AOl31wHHbI2fqnWK9uq5POxmOzRGDUJQq/s1600/Sutton+Mill+items+for+sale+as+owner+leaving+Jan+1857.PNG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">© courtesy of British Newspaper Archive</td></tr>
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But sadly, as I mention above, Bessie was not able to put the past behind her and start afresh. Not only would Martha Cotterill move with them, remaining in the household for many years to come, but also life had yet further misery to inflict on poor Bessie.<br />
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<u style="font-weight: bold;">To follow</u> - <b><a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-perpetrator.html">The truth about Martha</a> and <a href="http://familyhistorysecrets.blogspot.co.uk/2016/03/assault-and-cruelty-victim.html">What became of Bessie</a>. </b><br />
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<br />Wendy Percivalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06902813313352050696noreply@blogger.com2