Frolic!

Back in 1987 when I first walked into Weston Longville churchyard with my Dad and saw a row of gravestones carved with the name Bates - and one with Robert Bates etched into it - I had no idea what an influence that day, that place would have on my life.

Last weekend I organised the Annual Frolic for The Parson Woodforde Society, a jolly jaunt that including joining the congregation for a Harvest Thanksgiving service and lunch at the Weston pub that carries the Parson's name. 

Standing there in Weston churchyard, giving Society members a 'guided tour' of who was who in Woodforde's day was a rather surreal experience. Since 1987 I have come to be a bit of an expert on, er, those buried in the ground in Norfolk!

Slightly more cheery is another consequence of my passion for family tree: meeting long lost or rather never-known cousins.

I was delighted that my Dad attended the Frolic with me this year so that he could meet another new cousin - Midge - and once again catch up with Linda, whom we met in April. Dad and I went to see the lovely Derek and were joined by Midge and Linda - as well as Derek's two daughters, granddaughter and great grandson! 

I have no idea whether, given how distantly related we are, there is even any DNA that we share. What I do know is that these are wonderful people that I would never have met or known without Parson Woodforde and his Diary. And that is worth celebrating with a Frolic!

Stop press: another new cousin revealed - this one in France! 

Under the Parson's Nose...a Bates Family (Re)Union

One of the many joys of family history is connecting with like-minded people, drawing together strands of the family tree that have not been in contact for years, sometimes for generations. And meeting these people in real life.

Last weekend I brought together three branches of my Bates family tree in Weston Longville, the village in which we can all claim to have strong roots.

Sunday lunch in the Parson Woodforde pub - formerly the Five Ringers and the home in which my grandfather's aunt Emily lived as a young woman - was the perfect way for us all to get to know each other, share our own stories and look through old photographs.

Being Norfolk, there were - of course - many connections between us all, beyond our blood ties! It is, even in the 21st century, a small world.

Saluting the Parson, whose diaries were the catalyst for my genealogy hobby, I led the group across the lane to All Saints churchyard and gave a guided tour of the Bates, Gray and Dunnell gravestones to show how we were all related to each other.

We then headed to the site of Bates Farm - long since gone - and where a couple is building their dream home. As we stood at the gate taking photos, the couple approached and asked what we were doing: very swiftly we were all invited on to their property and given a guided tour. A real highlight for all of us.

Above: the Bates family - and supportive spouses - at All Saints, Weston Longville. The plaque on the church porch is Henry Duning, our ancestor. I wonder what he would of make of it all...

New discoveries close to home: three 'new' great aunts

'What can you possibly discover after researching your tree for so long?' asked a friend the other day. Quite a lot, it seems. And quite momentous things at that. Such as three 'new' great aunts.

My Scottish granddad's family was complicated: his mother had four sons by three men between 1912 and 1932 -  and she used several different forms of her name. To my grandma, my mum and me she was always known - in stories, as she died in 1941 - as Jeanie Miller.

I only spoke with Bob, my granddad's older half-brother, only once. I plucked his number from the phone book in 1992 and called him. During the conversation he described his childhood, his mother, his home - he said he was very fond of Archie, his younger brother (my granddad) even though they hadn't seen each other since the 1960s.

One comment stayed with me for years afterwards. Bob claimed he had a younger sister, Mary, and that 'she went bad'. I enquired with my granddad's younger half-brother Joe (with whom Bob had no relationship) and he denied outright any knowledge of any girls in the family, or any rumours of any girls.

This week I discovered that Mary existed. And that she wasn't the only girl in the family. Suddenly, my granddad had three sisters - and I had three 'new' great aunts.

Thanks to the records offered by ScotlandsPeople I managed to trace three daughters of my great grandmother Jeanie Miller and her partner, Frederick Daly. The first two - Mary and Helen, twins - were born in 1925 and died in 1926. Mary came along in 1927. All three bore the middle name Miller and the surname Daly. Their birth certificates bear the signature of Jeanie Miller and F Daly.

My granddad would have been 4 years old when the twins arrived and just over 6 when Mary was born. He must have remembered her. But, just like everything else in his childhood, he never talked about her.

So now that half of Bob's account has been proved true, I guess I have to try to find out what happened to Mary and what he meant by 'she went bad'...

My great great granny and the 'shocking' Italian

My granddad Archie never spoke to me about his family - although I did hear that he used to think his grandmother was French.

Only after years of research did I discover that Archie shared a home with his grandmother - Helen - until she died in 1939 when he was 19 years old. She went by the name of Helen Miller and was a nurse; however, she had once been married to and had a child by a man called Arnoldo Scossa.

He wasn't French - we believe he was Swiss, probably Italian Swiss.

If you've read previous posts you'll know that this chap deserted his wife and new baby in the mid 1880s for a new life in New South Wales, where he died alone some twenty years later. Helen described herself as a widow in census returns: either because she genuinely thought she was a widow, or to try and appear 'respectable'. She never remarried but did have my great grandmother, Jeanie, by a John McCaul.

Having coffee with an Italian pal today, our conversation turned to family trees and I mentioned the surname of that errant Italian (father of my great grandmother's brother Archimedes, after whom Archie was named....) and she laughed.

Apparently, Scossa means 'shock'. As in the sort of static electricity shock you get from someone who is wearing too much polyester! So, Helen Miller - you really were married to a shocking Italian!

Always keep your eyes open!

I first visited Weston Longville in Norfolk in 1987. I was there again last weekend (for what must be 50th time!) to see the parish so familiar to generations of my ancestors - and enjoy a delicious Sunday lunch at the recently renovated Parson Woodforde pub.

Pootling about the churchyard in the late September sunshine, I spotted a grave bearing the name Mary Dunning (left). Yes, my great x 7 grandmother. She'd been there all the time, obviously, as she died in 1773 . . but despite countless hours looking at each stone over the years, I'd never managed to decipher the name.

She lies right opposite the porch door: her husband, Henry Duning, and son David (along with his young wife, Mary) all died in 1738 and are commemorated on a wall tablet right by the doorway of the porch (right) .The tablet says that Henry lies near that spot - perhaps in the same plot as Mary, his wife who outlived him by 35 years.

Moral of the story? Always keep your eyes open and don't be afraid to search, search and search again even when you think you'll found out everything there is to know!

Finally cracked it?

When I started looking into my family tree in 1986, I didn't even know where my grandfather Bates was born. Today I may have nailed it and found a link on my paternal side right back to the 1550s.

I've yet to check evidence such as Wills, Terriers etc but the Registers of Felthorpe, Swannington and Elsing in Norfolk (at FREEReg and FamilySearch websites) suggest that I can now trace my direct male line back to Thomas Betts and Katherine Candell who married in 1572 (at Elsing).

The line would be:
Thomas Betts & Katherine Candell; Thomas Betts & Cecilie; Thomas Betts & Ann; Joseph Bates & Mary Parker; Joseph Bates & Hannah Miller; John Bates & Mary Dunnell; Thomas Bates & Mary Buck; William Bates & Mary Gray; William Bates & Ann Sayer; John Bates & Mabel Hill - then my grandfather, father and me!

Time to visit Norfolk Records Office methinks!

Seventy years ago Archie was at Sea

As the media whips itself into a (I believe, distasteful) frenzy about all-things Titanic related, I spare a thought for my granddad Archie Miller who endured the violent attack and forced abandonment of his own ship, Willesden, in the middle of the South Atlantic on 1 April 1942.

Aged only 21 at the time, Archie grew up in the slums of Glasgow and had been a baker and a boxer before signing up and becoming a Gunner in the Army, eventually deployed on Merchant Navy vessel Willesden.

Sailors get to see the world, and in the course of his military service Archie spent time in South America. Once aboard Willesden he saw New York and sailed to St Thomas in the Caribbean before heading across the Atlantic to Cape Town en route to north Africa.

His brother in England received a telegram to say that Archie was dead. His Post Office savings were transferred to his brother. Later, word came from Japan that he was alive.

I recently found this report by A Joyce that details what happened to my granddad's ship and his shipmates. They were attached from the air, sunk, captured by the Germans and then transported to Japan to be transferred into Japanese prisoner of war camps. He was liberated at Kawasaki Camp on 29 August 1945 and returned to Great Britain on the Empress of Australia, apparently via Singapore.

A Joyce's article is on the website of the charity called Children of Far East Prisoners of War: www.cofepow.org.uk/pages/armedforces_ms_willesden.htm

This story by David Wilson gives a little more detail about what happened to the prisoners after their arrival in Japan. My granddad never spoke to me about the War; on the very, very rare occasions when he spoke with my father about it (maybe just once) he declared no bitterness towards the Japanese people. Read about conditions at Kawasaki Camp 1 here - includes photo of the site as well as of Willesden:  www.war-experience.org/collections/sea/alliedbrit/wilson/default.asp