Annie Elizabeth Gadd

 I thought I would test out how Bing AI would cope with generating a short biography about my great Grandmother, Annie Elizabeth Gadd.  I generated a fact report from my Family Historian software and gave Bing AI that to work on.  It needed a little bit of fine tuning but otherwise seemed to work quite well.

Annie Elizabeth Gadd was born on September 8, 1857, in Etchingham, Sussex, England, to George Gadd (1833-1909) and Eliza Keeley (c. 1834-1909)

She was baptized in Etchingham on November 7, 1857 and appeared in the census on April 7, 1861, in Etchingham, aged 3 and also in Etchingham in the census on April 2, 1871, aged 13 .

On December 8, 1877, she married Albert Weston in Etchingham when she was 20 years old and he was 23 years old . The marriage was witnessed by Philip Goodwin and Louisa Keely . They had seven children together: Albert, Henry, Grace, Frank, Minnie, Tilly, and Percy .

Annie appeared in the census on April 3, 1881, in Etchingham, aged 23 but by the time of the census on April 5, 1891, she was living in Salehurst, Sussex, England, aged 33 . She was still there in the census on March 31, 1901,  aged 43 but by the time of the census on April 2, 1911, she was living in Robertsbridge, Sussex, England, aged 54 . At the time of the last census available in public records, she was still in Robertsbridge, Sussex on June 19, 1921, aged 63 years and 9 months.

Annie died on September 3, 1932, in Robertsbridge, aged 74 and was buried on September 7, 1932, in Salehurst.

There has been previous posts about Annie here.

On This Day-7 November, 1857

Advent calendar day 8

Advent Calendar Day 25 Christmas song

 

I think this Advent Calendar should have been called Going Full Circle because there have been many instances that I have highlighted this in it.  

The first day of the calendar was a particular memory and poem about Advent Calendars of my childhood.  Here we are on the last day and this post is about the words to a song we have on a Hawaiian CD that our daughter in law, Kari, gave us in 2009.

When this pops up in my memories on Facebook we go running to find the CD to play it.  The Christmas period has then been really welcomed in.  Mele Kalikimaka reminds of us being in Hawaii and trying to pronounce some of the words like "Kamehameha".  Their traditional  "Twelve Days of Christmas" (Hawaiian style) because of the different words used eg "my Tutu gave to me" is nothing to do with ballet as a Tutu is a grandparent and they don't have a pear tree but a papaya tree nor a partridge but a Mynah bird!!

This is the song on that CD though, that really tells the true meaning of Christmas to me and always has.

What would Christmas Be?

What would Christmas be without a tree?

The little girl asked innocently

Presents tied in pretty bows, don’t forget the mistletoe

Mommy, tell me what would Christmas be?

What would Christmas be without the toys

sent by Santa for all us good little boys

We take a few weeks off from school,

that makes Christmas really cool

Mommy, tell me what would Christmas be?

His mother smiled and drew him near,

holding back a little tear

And chuckled at the words her son had said

Christmas is the time of year

we celebrate the yuletide cheer

But honey don't forget why we were here

Christmas is the day Christ was born

Sent to earth to rescue the forlorn

A precious gift from God above,

He promised His eternal love

And sent to us His one and only Son

Now little ones you know it's true

how tenderly I care for you

A parents' loves is more than words can say

To know that God so loved us so,

He sent his son to earth below

Without Him, tell me what would Christmas be?

Composed by Nakani Choy

Executive Producers: NLP Music, Inc

Record Label: OneHawaii Music, LLC

Na Leo

Advent Calendar Day 24

 As a small child I was asked what my name was and I promptly announced Mary Christmas.  I suspect an instance of misunderstanding because Mary is my middle name and being greeted with "Merry Christmas"

When my father was an employee with the Woolwich Building Society I was able to go to Christmas parties but we had to drive to the Head Office in Woolwich for them.  I am not sure what the rest of the family did whilst I was there as it would have been too far to drive home and back again.  One year I had a lovely pink dress with lace tulle netting over the skirt and a blue bow round my waist.

Our Advent Calendars were like those posted about on the first day of this Advent Calendar.

We had net Christmas stockings and one was edged with red crepe paper and the other with orange crepe paper.  My sister and I would swap which one we had each Christmas.  Our stockings were left on the end of our beds and held small inexpensive items like notebooks, colouring pencils, sweets, a comic, flannel with a picture on it and a satsuma in the toe.  The satsumas came wrapped in a white paper wrap similar to tissue paper.  There was a picture logo on the wrappers.  There were many of these logos and we used to collect them to see how many different ones we could find.

Satsuma wrappers

We had fun making paper chains from packs of coloured strips of paper with gum on one end.  We made miles of these things, or so it seemed.  They were pinned all the way round the wooden picture rails or else pinned from the corners in to the centre light.  Mum kept the other decorations in a box to come year after year.  Many of them were coloured folded paper shapes like bells and stars.

Christmas bell

We also made these from old cards and we use to "pink" the edges with Mum's pinking shears

Christmas tree bauble

The Christmas tree had the same decorations year after year, being carefully put away and stored after Christmas.  I am sure there were some additions some years when we had made things at school.  I still have one or two of the ornaments and decorations used by Mum and Dad.

Our presents from Santa were always those in the Christmas stockings and the presents from our family and friends were put under the Christmas tree for opening after breakfast.  In the afternoon small gifts appeared "magically" hanging on the tree and these were opened in the middle of the afternoon.  We dutifully wrote thankyou notes to the present givers who we didn't see over the Christmas holiday.  

Mum would be busy cooking before Christmas as she made her own Christmas cake, mince pies, sausage rolls, cake and other goodies and of course she always cooked the Christmas dinner.  One of the cakes we always had on the tea table was a Tunis cake.  Some years we were given it and other years she bought it.  It was a plain madeira cake with chocolate covering the outside. I remember it with a Christmas band around the outside. On the top would be a decoration of buttercream and little marzipan fruits in a butter cream nest in the middle.  Our Christmas cake was always decorated with a snow scene so that we could put the little decorations of robins, holly, Father Christmas, a sleigh and some fir trees.

Tunis Cake

Dad used to roast chestnuts on the open fire we had in a courtier stove in the living...pre central heating days.  Needless to say there were spitting chestnuts and bits flying around.

When we married we bought a little Christmas tree and some decorations and this was our angel that sat on the top of the tree and still does every year.  I am making and giving a Christmas decoration each year to each grandchild so that when they leave home they will have 18 of Granny's Christmas decorations for their own tree but I will leave them to choose their own angel.

Our Angel

At the beginning of our marriage our parents only lived a few miles from each other so we would come up to stay with one set of parents but always visited the other parents the next day.  We carried on this tradition even after my parents moved away but once the children came along we found it too much to move between both of them as my parents had moved away from Sussex.  We then alternated Christmas holidays with one set of parents and Easter long week end with the other set.  It was so much easier for the children not to be stuck in the car for 5 hours between the sets of parents.

Both sets of parents always had Christmas dinner at 1pm and tea in the evening so we naturally carried this on ourselves,  Peter's parents did not have Christmas tree presents and had their crackers at lunchtime whereas I had always had them at teatime.  We carried on the tree presents and chose to have the crackers at teatime too.

In my late teens I would join in with others from our church and take the handbells round to accompany the carol singing that we did each Christmas.  We used to collect money but my memory fails me as to whether it was for the church or charity.  One year we sang outside Una Stubs front door and she came to open the door.

Peter's Dad had always got tickets for the Pantomime in Southport on Boxing Day on the years we went to them for Christmas and the children were small.  Some big names took part in those pantomimes, including Les Dennis one year.  We always went to the matinee so the language was appropriate for them.  There was always a very nosiy and enthusiastic audience.  We all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

As a young Mum I belonged to the WI in our village on the outskirts of Cirencester.  I was the youngest member there and always interested in the family.  One year we went to Gloucester for a carol concert and another year my friend, who was also a member and a childminder, decided to be part of the entertainment at the Christmas party and also did the same thing at the local playgroup.  We had a paint chimney made of a large three sided cardboard box and my friend dressed as Santa and was standing in the chimney and I dressed in my nightie (covering over my clothes!!) and clutching a huge teddy that my daughter had won in a competition to name the teddy...she chose Hamish.  Even more embarassing , but the whole point, was we sang the words to "When Santa got stuck up the Chimney"  We just sang up to the first Achoo, achoo achoo and then repeated them as an encore because there were more words but we didn't like them.   It was all much enjoyed by both the WI and the playgroup children.

When our children were old enough we would go to the Midnight Service where they and I were in the choir and Peter and I kept that up until Christmas 2020 when covid altered everyone's lives and meeting in churches and groups of people were not allowed.  Christmas 2020 was also the first year it had just been Peter and I together from Christmas but we had learned to zoom each other and so had a "zoomed" Christmas Day meet up.  We still do this with our son and his family on Christmas Day because usually we are with my daughter and family either in our house or in their house in Hertfordshire.

Our last tradition and our newest was a result of Covid too.  Our street has an Advent Trail for the children to see as they go to school we are allocated a day in the trail and have to display it in the window.  We have lots of lights outside and decorate the front downstairs windows with suitable themed decorations and our day number.  Some how the number of lights seem to grow each year as Peter is very enthusiastic about them and itches to get them outside on December 1st!!!

Advent Calendar Day 23

So glad Christmas's haven't been like this for the close family I have posted about in this Advent Calendar but it did affect one of my ancestors and others have been in workhouses too or before the existence of workhouses were regularly receiving help from the parish for food and clothing.

Christmas Day In the Workhouse

It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse,

And the cold bare walls are bright

With garlands of green and holly,

And the place is a pleasant sight:

For with clean-washed hands and faces,

In a long and hungry line

The paupers sit at the tables

For this is the hour they dine.

And the guardians and their ladies,

Although the wind is east,

Have come in their furs and wrappers,

To watch their charges feast;

To smile and be condescending,

Put pudding on pauper plates,

To be hosts at the workhouse banquet

They've paid for — with their rates.

Oh, the paupers are meek and lowly

With their "Thank'ee kindly, mum's"

So long as they fill their stomachs,

What matter it whence it comes?

But one of the old men mutters,

And pushes his plate aside:

"Great God!" he cries; "but it chokes me!

For this is the day she died."

The guardians gazed in horror,

The master's face went white;

"Did a pauper refuse the pudding?"

Could their ears believe aright?

Then the ladies clutched their husbands,

Thinking the man would die,

Struck by a bolt, or something,

By the outraged One on high.

But the pauper sat for a moment,

Then rose 'mid a silence grim,

For the others had ceased to chatter

And trembled in every limb.

He looked at the guardians' ladies,

Then, eyeing their lords, he said,

"I eat not the food of villains

Whose hands are foul and red:

"Whose victims cry for vengeance

From their dank, unhallowed graves."

"He's drunk!" said the workhouse master,

"Or else he's mad and raves."

"Not drunk or mad," cried the pauper,

"But only a hunted beast,

Who, torn by the hounds and mangled,

Declines the vulture's feast.

"Keep your hands off me, curse you!

Hear me right out to the end.

You come here to see how paupers

The season of Christmas spend.

You come here to watch us feeding,

As they watch the captured beast.

Hear why a penniless pauper

Spits on your paltry feast.

"Do you think I will take your bounty,

And let you smile and think

You're doing a noble action

With the parish's meat and drink?

Where's my wife, you traitors —

The poor old wife you slew?

Yes, by the God above us,

My Nance was killed by you!

"Last winter my wife lay dying,

Starved in a filthy den;

I had never been to the parish, —

I came to the parish then.

I swallowed my pride in coming,

For, ere the ruin came,

I held up my head as a trader,

And I bore a spotless name.

"I came to the parish, craving

Break for a starving wife,

Bread for the woman who'd loved me

Through fifty years of life;

And what do you think they told me,

Mocking my awful grief?

That 'the House' was open to us,

But they wouldn't give 'out relief.'

"I slunk to the filthy alley —

'Twas a cold, raw Christmas eve —

And the bakers' shops were open,

Tempting a man to thieve;

But I clenched my fists together,

Holding my head awry,

So I came to her empty-handed

And mournfully told her why.

"Then I told her 'the House' was open;

She had heard of the ways of that,

For her bloodless cheeks went crimson,

And up in her rags she sat,

Crying, 'Bide the Christmas here, John,

We've never had one apart;

I think I can bear the hunger, —

The other would break my heart.'

"All through that eve I watched her,

Holding her hand in mine,

Praying the Lord, and weeping,

Till my lips were salt as brine.

I asked her once if she hungered,

And as she answered 'No,'

The moon shone in at the window

Set in a wreath of snow.

"Then the room was bathed in glory,

And I saw in my darling's eyes

The far-away look of wonder

That comes when the spirit flies;

And her lips were parched and parted,

And her reason came and went,

For she raved of our home in Devon,

Where our happiest years were spent.

"And the accents long forgotten,

Came back to the tongue once more,

For she talked like the country lassie

I woo'd by the Devon shore.

Then she rose to her feet and trembled,

And fell on the rags and moaned,

And, 'Give me a crust — I'm famished —

For the love of God!' she groaned.

"I rushed from the room like a madman,

And flew to the workhouse gate,

Crying, 'Food for a dying woman!'

And the answer came, 'Too late.'

They drove me away with curses;

Then I fought with a dog in the street,

And tore from the mongrel's clutches

A crust he was trying to eat.

"Back, through the filthy by-lanes!

Back, through the trampled slush!

Up to the crazy garret,

Wrapped in an awful hush.

My heart sank down at the threshold,

And I paused with a sudden thrill,

For there in the silv'ry moonlight

My Nance lay, cold and still.

"Up to the blackened ceiling

The sunken eyes were cast —

I knew on those lips all bloodless

My name had been the last;

She'd called for her absent husband —

O God! had I but known! —

Had called in vain, and in anguish

Had died in that den — alone.

"Yes, there, in a land of plenty,

Lay a loving woman dead,

Cruelly starved and murdered

For a loaf of the parish bread.

At yonder gate, last Christmas,

I craved for a human life.

You, who would feast us paupers,

What of my murdered wife!

"There, get ye gone to your dinners;

Don't mind me in the least;

Think of the happy paupers

Eating your Christmas feast;

And when you recount their blessings

In your smug parochial way,

Say what you did for me, too,

Only last Christmas Day."

by George R. Sims

 

I certainly have ancestors who have been in the workhouse.  Henry Clark, my 3x great grandfather died in Ore Workhouse in 1908.  He had been an inmate for many years. His son, Richard Douch Clark, my 2x great grandfather, died in a workhouse in 1905 on the same day he was admitted.  He died of diabetes.  My 2x great grandmother Margaret Clark (nee Hoad) was in a workhouse near Ashford, Kent when their son Charles Douch Clarke was born.

Zachariah Weston, my 3x great grandfather, applied regularly for parish relief in Etchingham, Sussex between 1819-1822.

Advent Calendar Day 22

 Yesterday I mentioned the Trivvies and one of the Trivvie things we shared was writing fiction and we chose a character and wrote short chapters about episodes of the character in the village of Trivington and what they did.  It got my creative juices flowing.  This was one of my stories as a result but totally unrelated to my character of District Nurse Liz.  It is a combination of actual memories, wishes and images that have created thoughts about what Christmases could have been like, ideals if you like. A Christmas that is magical, no excesses....a sufficiency. You will have to wait for the days to come for what actually has and does happen for some Christmases, for some families.

Christmas

Stars twinkle brightly in the night sky; a hard frost covers the ground in a mantle of jewels that sparkle in the moonlight; wisps of smoke lazily drift upwards from cottage chimneys; the moon lights a path on the gentle swell of the calm sea in the bay and an air of expectation electrifies the atmosphere. Curtains are closely pulled behind mullioned windows, shutting out the crisp winter’s chill. In one cottage a chink of light escapes from one corner, allowing sight of the festivities inside. 

We see a homely living room with a large fireplace behind a brass-topped fender. On the walls are pictures topped by sprigs of berried holly and from each corner of the room are long paper chains meeting at the light in the centre of the room. Between the pictures are strings of Christmas cards with pictures of robins, snowmen, Christmas trees and boughs of holly. In one corner is a dining table and on one side of the hearth are some easy chairs and on the other is an old wooden settle. 

Little children hang their stockings from the mantelpiece and there beside the roaring log fire is Santa’s supper; mince pie, carrot, milk and a glass of sherry. Each tasty morsel has been lovingly carried by excited, jigging children, desperate for the next few hours to pass. Will they hear the scrabbling in the chimney? Will they hear Rudolph stamp his feet? Will they hear the sleigh bells as Santa speeds on his way on this the busiest night of the year? 

Near the stairs are four advent calendars; doors wide open, waiting the last day. Beside the hearth is a small Christmas tree, weighed down with ornaments and tinsel. Small twinkling lights make a myriad of stars, and there at the top is the angel. This angel is so fragile, so lovingly wrapped and put away year after year; an angel that is even older than the mother. Gabriel looks down over the room before him and smiles, contented in the peace and joy that fills the room. In the corner of the room is a small stable set upon a table. Cattle are leaning over the manger, snuggled deep in straw. Outside are the figures of Joseph, Mary and a donkey hurrying on their way, tired after the long journey. On the other side are shepherds with a flock of sheep. The children move Joseph and Mary closer to the stable; it will not be long now. The little child, too young to understand, asks for the hundredth time “Where is baby Jesus” as her chubby little finger feels in the manger and then moves the straw searching for the baby; it’s not time yet, but it will not be long. 

The mother shoos the children to bed knowing they will wake early. The tallest child opens the latch on the door in the corner of the room and the little ones hurry up the stairs, nightdresses flapping around their legs and teddies clutched tightly in their arms. Four little heads bow to say their prayers and then they dive into bed. Their mother kisses them each goodnight; soft, gentle, butterfly kisses and then tucks the bedclothes up around their necks. All that can be seen are round, dimpled little cherubic faces beneath fair curls; cheeks flushed pink in excitement. The mother goes back downstairs to wrap the presents and make sure all is ready for Santa. Four little bodies spring from their beds and press their faces against the windows, noses squashed flat. Their breath fogs the glass that they quietly wipe with their sleeves as they desperately search the sky; where is Rudolph, Donner and Blitzen? Disappointed they jump back into bed and chatter sleepily, trying so hard to stay awake. One by one their eyelids slowly droop and they can no longer remain awake. 

Back in the room downstairs the mother sits in front of the fire and looks deep into the flames and remembers last year when her husband was here to share the joy. He can no longer share her tears and laughter; cannot see his children laugh and play, kiss their hurts or give them hugs. She looks up at his photo on the mantelpiece and remembers that day last spring when the fishing boat did not return. Several days passed before his body was washed up on the Point and he was later laid to rest beneath the turf in the little churchyard in the village. Now she can share her days with him without the anguish squeezing her heart. She tells him of the fun they had decorating the tree; of little ones too excited to eat and sleep; chubby, sticky fingers that tried to wrap their parcels but the paper escaped the sticky tape and became more scrumpled by the minute; grey pastry as eight tiny hands helped make the mince pies and their worry about Santa coming down the chimney and landing on the fire. 

She opens a cupboard and pulls out the box of treasures that she has struggled to find to make the Christmas a happy time. She looks at the fruits of her labours: hats, scarves, gloves and socks knitted from unravelled jumpers; shoeboxes covered in pieces of material, whilst inside are little pillows, sheets and blankets to cover the rag dolls that she pulls out of the cupboard next. She wraps them all and puts them beneath the tree and then turns to fill the Christmas stockings, which she has taken down from the mantelpiece. Into them she puts oranges, sweets, crayons, a little colouring book, a ball and a peg doll and then hangs them back on the mantelpiece. Last of all she takes the little figure of baby Jesus from his hiding place and puts him carefully in the manger with Mary and Joseph beside him, and the donkey in the corner of the stable next to the cows. 

She opens the front door and takes in the beauty of the night. Up in the village the bells ring out to announce the birth of the infant Jesus. Bright lights shine out through the Church windows, welcoming the people who hurry to celebrate this special occasion. The Church is decorated with greenery on every available window ledge and column. Tiny tea-lights interspersed with church candles fill every vacant space. The Church is packed, not an empty seat is left as the congregation sit waiting in the candlelight. The choir emerge from their vestry beneath the bell tower and pauses to welcome all in song. A treble voice rings out the age-old song and soon voices rise and fall in harmony as the choir processes to their stalls behind the rood screen. People kneel to celebrate, heads bowed in silent prayer, joined as one in their belief. All too soon it is “Happy Christmas, Happy Christmas” – words and hugs a parting gift as people hurry home to bed. 

All is quiet as the snow starts to fall, slow drifting flakes of downy softness. The Church is dark and silent now; the village sleeps, wrapped in a mantle of peacefulness. 

In the cottage the mother sleeps too, recharging her batteries for the coming day. A child stirs, awake early in excitement and eager to see what Santa has brought. One by one the others awake too and they hastily put on warm dressing gowns and fluffy slippers before trying to creep quietly downstairs, giggling in excitement. They peep round the door and see that crumbs are all that are left of Santa’s supper. Wide-eyed they look upwards, but they cannot reach the stockings, far above their heads behind the brass fender; stockings bursting with strange shapes. With a mother’s instinct she is not far behind them and lifts their stockings down one by one. They sit on the rug in front of the fire, tip their stockings upside down to empty them and are soon playing with their new gifts. Josie sits colouring in the new book, quiet in concentration with her tongue peeping through closed lips and then she remembers the stable. The Jesus child has come: there he is lying in a manger and Joseph and Mary are watching over him. Eyes wide-opened in wonderment, she gently reaches forward with her chubby little finger and touches the baby, yes he is there; he is real. Around her the others are soon noisily playing families with their peg dolls. After a hasty breakfast they quickly get dressed so they can open the presents under the tree. 

Soon small heads are tearing at gaily, wrapped parcels; bows and paper soon cast aside. Josie sits quietly, taking her time undoing ribbons and carefully folding the paper, yet all the children love their presents. There is a knock on the door and there in the doorway are grandparents, dressed warmly against the falling snow, their arms full of presents. The children rush forward and launch themselves at their grandparents, struggling to make themselves heard against each other. Josie hangs behind and then sneaks round the back and snuggles in-between the two. 

Then it is on with hats, coats, gloves and scarves and outside into the snow. Four little girls in red boots prance and dance in the snow in excitement on their way to Church with their Mother and grandparents. Christmas is much the same all over the village – families are busy opening presents, dinners are being cooked, smoke is drifting upwards from log fires and the snow is still falling. The Church is open and people are attending the morning service before going home to prepare their dinner. Some houses exude excitement, noise and light as families come together to celebrate this season of goodwill; some are dark and quiet, as the occupants have gone visiting and some are quiet and peaceful, people are enjoying a drink before the fire. 

Mother takes the coats and boots, and the grandparents are soon seated by the fire, the flames soon putting warmth back into their bones. Presents are handed round which the children are quick to open and share their delight with their grandparents; jigsaws, balls, skipping ropes, and picture books. 

All too soon the table is set for dinner; the centrepiece a lighted Christmas candle, deep red with gold holly leaves; bright red paper napkins folded like fans; shiny cutlery and gleaming glasses. Such a wonderful feast is set before them all and then the highlight of the meal: the Christmas pudding, made several Sundays ago on Stir-up Sunday when all the little girls had crowded round the kitchen table and made their wish whilst giving the pudding a stir. Now it is borne aloft by the Mother and set before them on the table, flames flickering around the domed shape. 

After the dinner the grandparents and mother sit and talk in front of the fire and the little girls play happily with their presents until 3 o’clock: time for the Queen’s broadcast. The older generation have a glass of sherry and the little ones a glass of squash as they listen intently for a short while. Then the Christmas tree presents – tiny little presents that people have made; even the children have been busy painting stones as doorstops and making calendars. The little girls go upstairs to play and all is quiet downstairs as heads nod in the warmth and flickering light. 

Teatime soon comes and the table is laden with the fruits of the cottage kitchen; sausage rolls, mince pies, homemade bread, fairy cakes, scones, cheese straws and Christmas cake iced as a snow scene. Little biscuits, a little greyish in colour, made by small hands, in the shape of a reindeer, a star, a Christmas tree. There beside each plate is a large red cracker, too large for little hands to pull. Each little hand in turn is enfolded in a grandparent's and then “snap”, the crackers tear, screams of delight as little gifts go flying. Streamers thrown, hats on heads, the jokes are read out, but where are the little girls? One by one the hats have fallen down over their eyes until their faces are completely covered. Oh such excitement, far too excited to eat tea. 

Flames glisten on the tinsel that moves gently in the heat; the little fairy lights on the Christmas tree are bright spots of colour in the gloaming and outside can be heard faint sounds of carols. It comes closer now, accompanied by small voices talking and stamping feet. They open the front door and there is a group of carol singers; bright red cheeks and eyes reflecting the candles they are carrying, looking for all the world like snowmen with their striped scarves, hats and gloves partially covered in snow. Voices sing out a carol or two and then “We wish you a Merry Christmas” as they eat the proffered mince pies and glass of mulled wine. They go on their way beneath the star studded night sky, snow crunching as the chill sets in and when the adults turn back indoors they see the little girls asleep in front of the fire. Not long after the Mother wakes them gently and takes them upstairs to bed – it has been a long day for four excited little girls. 

Soon it is time for the grandparents to leave and Mother looks up to the village; the Church is in darkness and cottage windows obscure the festivity within. She returns to the fireside and curls up in an armchair, staring into the flickering flames. Her mind wanders off, as each flame becomes a different memory from long ago when she was a child. 
January 2002 

copyright Elizabeth Graydon

Advent Calendar Day 21

We moved away from the Home Counties after our marriage in St Nicholas Church, Harpenden, Herts.  We moved down to the Cotswolds, a lovely part of the country, and both our children were born there.  We first lived in Tetbury where our new build 3 bed semi-detached house cost £8,500.  We relied on overtime and me getting a job to get a mortgage as well as a big deposit because they then only gave 2 1/2 times the man's salary for a morgage.  Peter's salary was just about £1800 pa.  Later we moved to the outskirts of Cirencester when we started a family.

Life evolved round the village school next to the Primary School.  Music and Movement (youngsters dancing), Pram Service, playgroup, school, cubs, brownies, WI etc. It was a well used venue.

Whilst the children were young I went chambermaiding at the local hotel at the bottom of our road and also child minding, which was always in demand as many Mums went to work.  I still keep in touch with one of those Mums.  Peter did evening bingo calling there to supplement our income.

Our holidays were usually spent with our parents and sometimes Peter's parents would tow their caravan somewhere for us to stay.  We started camping first but soon found we didn't really like damp clothes and bedding so bought our own second hand caravan that we kept for several years.  The scariest holiday was in Cornwall at Pentewan during the summer holidays when the Fastnet race was on.  A gale was forecast and we copied others in flinging a rope over the caravan and awning and then drove the car over the rope so that the weight of the car held the roped caravan on the ground to stop it rocking and blowing over.  We didn't sleep that night. The next morning we saw tents ripped to shreds, and overturned caravans and like many others we quickly packed the caravan and hitched it to the car and drove back home.  Not long after that we got rid of the caravan as it began to need a lot of work done on it.

Whilst there we had a golden cocker who was rather temperamental and then rescued a dog from a farm but she wasn't happy being isolated from the other dogs she was with on the farm so we took her back to the rescue centre.  We later rescued a whippet terrier cross who we called Meg.  She was lovely once we got her feeling at home and improved in health and she lived until she was 14.

Meg

We moved to Sussex for Peter's work in 1989 and I took many temporary jobs to help with the increased mortgage costs.  The difference between house prices in Gloucestershire and Sussex was huge.  Amongst those jobs was Lollipop Lady at the local primary school, 6th form college lab technician, moved into their Finance Office and studied for the Association of Accounting Technicians and once I qualified I went to work for a housing association in Lewes that supported people with special needs and health issues.  It was a a rewarding place to work.

I started doing family history in the late 1990s but at the beginning we only had dial up broadband so time spent online was limited so we kept the landline free for phone calls.  We would go online, download emails and go offline, then sit and answer the emails and then go back online to send them. Luckily the East Sussex Archives was in Lewes and I would spend lunch hours and time off in the Archives browsing microfiche to find ancestors.  Also during this time I joined a Rootsweb group called Gentrivia where we discussed trivia about genealogy as well as helping each other.  We also made friends and sometimes met at a physical reunion at different places in England; Derbyshire, Wiltshire and Gloucestershire were some places.  During part of the social chit chat online we invented our home in a village called Trivvington and we all became Trivvies and most people assumed a persona that was woven into stories, but more of that another day.  I remain close friends with some of these people and regularly meet them now.

In 2000 I gave my parents a cross stitch embroidery of our family tree; it took nearly 400 hours of work for the stitching and then there was the research needed to find all the names to go on it.  There were tears all round when they saw it.

You can read a bit more about my family and view the cross stitch tree here.

The children moved away from home for work and their own married lives; one to Hertfordshire, yes full circle again, and the other to Oahu, Hawaii.  Hawaii is certainly the furthest we have been away on holiday and is a beautiful, if somewhat expensive, place to visit.  They now live in Washington State and we have enjoyed holidays there too.

We have been blessed with our 2 children; a son in law, a daughter in law and 5 grandchildren, 3 in England and 2 in America, who all give us so much pleasure.  We don't often get to be altogether at the same time but when we do it is a real mother hen moment for me.

Family History is still my favourite hobby, closely followed by reading, cross stich and knitting and crochet but not necessarily in that order.

I branched out from my family history and created a website for Cuckfield which I am building as a place of local and family history and in August this year I registered it with the Society of One Place Studies and set up its own blog to highlight changes and create more footfall on the site.  Unfortunately the blog has been a little neglected whilst preparing this Advent Calendar!!

Advent Calendar Day 20

 

Elizabeth White

I was born in Hertfordshire and had one elder sister.  The photo above was a polyphoto; it was the done thing to get polyphotos taken in a studio when you were very small.

The family lived in the locality until I was eight, having moved house once when I was about 18 months old.  I don't remember the first house at all.  We moved to a cul de sac that was close to Cassiobury Park where I went to primary school.  The park seemed huge to me and we would walk, ride our bikes or push dolls prams  through it to the Grand Union Canal.  We were allowed to play out in the cul de sac but not on the road.  On Sundays we were only allowed to play quietly in the back garden.  

I only remember a few neighbours that lived up our end of the cul de sac and these included a family that had a corgi dog that I didn’t like because it went for your heels and a lady who lived on the same side as us used to come round the houses collecting for National Savings stamps.

Savings stamps and book

 They don't sell these now and haven't done for many years.  Buying those stamps on the doorstep was on a par with the man that visited to collect your insurance money or to collect your football pool money each week.

We had a black and white cat called Sooty; he was a lovely cat.  We also had 2 quinea pigs but my sister didn't like handling them as she didn't like the feel of their claws so I would move them from hutch to their run and she would have to clean out the cage in return.  We didn't always look after them very well and one night they disappeared...we never did find out where they went to a new home.  When my sister was 8 she had a miniature black poodle for a birthday present.  She named her Candy.  Unfortunately Sooty and Candy didn't get on and during a storm the cat hid under Mum's bed and Candy too decided to go in from under the other side of the bed.  What a fight ensued with the Candy's eye getting scratched!  The following weekend we took her down to my grandmother's house in Robertsbridge to live a long and happy life.   I had a miniature black poodle for my 8th birthday as well but unfortunately Suki, my dog, went blind after about 6 years and she relied on Candy as her eyes.  When Candy died, Suki didn't cope very well and sadly she didn't live much longer.  I also kept tropical fish for  while during my late teens.

We had no television in my early childhood so we made our own entertainment and loved the usual children's games of marbles, Jacks', cycling, roller skating, skipping and other playground games.  Indoors I loved reading and playing card and board games....some of the board games I still have and the grandchildren have enjoyed laying with them too.  I would make indoor theatres and little characters to perform the plays and so I was very happy to receive a Pelham string puppet one year for a birthday present.

Pelham Clown Puppet

I was about 10 when we were living in Essex and I learned to swim there with school lessons and also belonged to Brownies and flew up to Guides.  I went to one Guide camp before I was enrolled and the chemical loos put me off and I stopped going to Guides, having never enrolled!!  I also started learning to play the piano and when we moved back to Hertfordshire 18 months later, I continued lessons for a few years but was then told I either practised more or the lessons stopped....needless to say, the lessons stopped.  I regretted it when I was an adult though.

We enjoyed tobogganing down our hill when it snowed in the winter of  1962/63 which was a very bad one with lots of snow.  We enjoyed helping the milkman dragging milk up the hill on our toboggans.

As a teenager I sang in the school choir, played goalkeeper in Hockey for the school U14 team and was also in the teams for tennis and netball.  My first job was as a Saturday assistant in the library which was right up my street as I always had my head in a book.  In my late teens I used to ring the bells in the Parish church and also played the handbells.  

All school homework had to be done before we were allowed to watch TV except for 30 minutes when we were allowed to watch Coronation Street or Emergency Ward 10.  They were on on different days.  Homework was done in the bedrooms apart from winter when it was too cold upstairs and we sat in the dining room to do it....oh the days before central heating and you could draw pictures on the ice on the inside of the bedroom windows!!

I wasn't encouraged to stay on at sixth form and take A levels but I did go to a College of Further Education in Watford (yes, nearly gone full circle!!!) where I took an Ordinary National Diploma in Business Studies and picked up 4 more GCEs and an A level.  Whilst at the College I used to do Social Studies, one of which was swimming and I was really chuffed when I managed to swim 52 lengths of the pool!!.  Another option I took was local studies and perhaps that was the start of my love of local and family history that I only really had time for in my late 40's.

Whilst at college I had a Saturday job in Sainsbury in Boreham Wood.  I was a checkout operator, a somewhat different role the ones in the 21st century.  No conveyor belt to move the shopping; customers would put their shopping on the checkout inside a three sided wooden “rake” that was pulled towards them by the checkout operator.  Items were priced individually (no bar codes) and the operator had to pick the item up, turn it round until they found the label and then manually press the keys on the till.

My first full time job was as a secretary in a very large firm of solicitors in London; my interview day was the day of the first moon landing.  I earned £20 a week. I then went to the Home Office as a secretary in Whitehall but secretarial work really wasn't my thing and I was much happier transferring over to HM Customs and Excise (now called the HM Revenue and Customs) when they were just introducing VAT.  I then had the opportunity to transfer from VAT to their Investigation Branch.  I had found my place in the workplace at last. 

I got engaged to Peter and we both took extra jobs to get a deposit together.  I worked as a shelf filler at the local Sainsbury, yes, full circle again, and Peter worked in the petrol station.  In 1973 the petrol cost 33p a gallon!!!  The garage also gave Green Shield Stamps so he was often given stamps that customers didn't want.  Those together with stamps that Dad collected for some of his business mileage meant we could get some tumblers and cutlery for when we were married.  We've still got some of them!!!

Green Shield stamps

Advent Calendar Day 19

 

Mum

Mum was born in 1922 whilst they were living in a small cottage behind the High Street in Robertsbridge, so prior to the house my grandparents had built the other side of the railway line.

My grandmother regularly used to push the pram uphill to John's Cross to visit a relative.  My aunt was in the pram and my Mum either walking or perched on the top of the coach built pram.

She talked of being walked (or did she she perch on the pram some of the way) to Hurst Green where they would visit a shop.  There was a tailor sitting cross legged in window of the shop.  A bit of research on my part using the census found a tailor, George Baldock, but he was only indirectly related to Mum's great aunt.

In her childhood she sang in the church choir and at aged 14 was the King in a production of Sleeping Beauty as a Pantomime performance.  She was also a Girl Guide and carried the banner at events in the village and a member of the Robertsbridge Musical and Dramatic Society.

Her first job was in the offices at the flour mill I showed on Day 7 and then she joined up in 1943, going into the WAAF and became a telex operator.  She mainly talked about serving at Rudlow Manor.  She often spoke of going through Box Tunnel.

In her war service she was mustered as a:
April 1943 - rank ACW2  
Sept 1943 - rank ACW1
June 1944 - rank LACW
April 1946 1945 - rank A/Cpl (Paid)

Sometimes my grandmother would travel by train from Robertsbridge to Charing Cross station and Mum would go from Hertfordshire to Charing Cross to meet her and bring her back to our house for a short stay.  Nan didn't really like staying away from home though, so she never stayed long.

During the mid to late 1960s Mum fell down the stairs when hoovering and had compacted fractures which had to be reset under anaesthetic.  Restricted movement when she was sent home meant we all had to set to and help out around the house with the cooking and cleaning and Dad had did the personal care.  Probably best if I don't share what he said when trying to get her dressed.  Poor Mum was very embarassed at having to be helped and "baby sat" as she couldn't be left on her own.  She frequently went out with Dad on his working travels in East Anglia as that helped solve the problems.

Marmalade on the ceiling, well of course, isn't that commonplace in the kitchen?  Luckily it only happened the once but oh my, what a sticky mess Mum had to clean up.  She was making marmalade in a pressure cooker on the cooker top and a bit of the peel must have got stuck in the pressure release vent and all of a sudden it blew the weight off the vent and the marmalade just shot up to the ceiling and fell back down to the floor, the cooker top, the walls etc.  Mum quickly grabbed a tea towel and threw it over the valve as she turned the cooker off.  My sister and I had to stand still whilst she washed a narrow strip between where we stood and the kitchen door.  We had to step out of our shoes at the door and go into the hall and not come back in.  Poor Mum then had to wash the ceiling, walls, cooker, floor and heaven knows what else before anyone else could go back in and the day continue.  She must have had to wash it several times to get rid of that stickyness.  She must have been shattered.  It didn't put her off, though, and she continued to make the marmalade each year in the pressure cooker.  She made all our jam and marmalade in those days, as she did Christmas puddings, cakes, mince pies, sausage rolls etc.

She was a knitter; always had some sort of knitting on the go and she made us all our baby clothes and later our cardigans and jumpers, even hers and Dads.  She always had a knitting bag beside her chair in the sitting room.

Mum always made friends with the neighbours but wasn't one for spending a lot of time in their houses drinking coffee.  She was always busy in our house keeping it clean and tidy.  When she was still alive and visiting us I always told my children that the house had to be Granny clean before she arrived!!!

Going to church was important to her and she was of the generation who always wore smart clothes and a hat, except for the few years when they were practising Catholics and then it would always be a black lace mantilla instead of a hat.

When they moved to Bexhill she belonged to the Working Party for the church and they used to have coffee and sit and knit or make other items for charity or the upcoming church fundraising event.  Dad usually had his Probus meeting on the same day.  They were in the choir for a while but eventually decided it was time to hang up their choir robes for good.

Even when she eventually moved into a Care Home she still kept up the knitting of baby items which she would give me for the Special Care Baby units.

Unlike my Dad, Mum was alive to see all of her great grandchildren before she died.

Advent Calendar Day 18

Dad aged 4

My father was Robert Frank White.  Was he named Robert for his grandfather and Frank for his Father?  Those two names don't appear to come from his mother's side of the family.

He was born in Hastings just before Christmas in 1918, after the WW1 peace was declared.  He never had any brothers or sisters.  His birth certificate shows no fathers name recorded.  As a child I never thought about why his surname was the same as his mothers and that mine was the same as his and yet my mothers was different to her mothers.  Even as an adult I never queried it or queried why there wasn't a grandfather on his side.

His foster parents were Alfred Crouch and Blanche Elizabeth Victoria Braban (more here)

Dad remained friends with Chrissie and Cecil and their children, Peggy born 1925 and Kenneth born 1926. They were the family he didn’t have as he never met his grandparents and aunts and uncles on his mother’s side as she was disowned by them. I have met Peggy and Kenneth too.

Dad left school aged 14, as was the norm back in the early 1930’s and he went to work in offices, one of which was an Estate Agents.

Dad enlisted in the RAF on 1/3/1940. Whilst doing his initial training in Morecombe he caught Menigitis which was a worrying time for the family.  His records gave details of his roles. 

He was mustered as a: 
1940 - Clerk, General Duties, rank AC1  
1942 - Clerk, General Duties, rank Cpl
1944 - Clerk, General Duties, rank Sgt
1945 - Clerk, General Duties, rank T/Sgt (T=temporary and in war time referred to the military establishment was temporary for hostilities only, not that their rank was temporary)

He went out to South Africa during 1941 and was mainly in the Johannesburgh and Cape area of South Africa.    During his time in South Africa he was in the choir that sang at the funeral of funeral of General Smutts in 1943.  He served in the HQ(o) 18 Group a reconnaisance group at Pitreavie Castle in Scotland, a maintenance unit in Nottingham and Central signals Service after returning from South Africa and before being demobbed in Bedfordshire in 1946.

Mum and Dad married later in 1946 and lived in a rented cottage in Robertsbridge where he studied in the evenings to become a Chartered Auctioneer and Estate Agent and also as a Chartered Surveyor.

He was elected an associate of The Chartered Auctioneers and Estate Agents Institute on 18th July 1952 and a Fellow on 1st October 1954, both when living in Watford.    We lived in Eastfield Close until I was about 18 months old and then moved to Orchard Close in 1953. We moved again when I was 8, this time to Kent but the job didn't really work out for Dad and we moved to Essex when he got a new job as surveyor for the Woolwich Building Society.  Promotion came fairly rapidly and his workbase moved to North London and we moved to Hertfordshire in 1962. (full circle!)

Wrestling was very popular on Saturday afternoon sports tv and Dad had great pleasure in watching it, that and football.  He also loved watching Dave Allen (comedian), Harry Worth, Morecombe and Wise and The Forsyte Saga, in particular Nyree Dawn Porter.  Mum used to tease him about have a "pin up girl"!

Dad was now a regional surveyor at this point with his office in Southgate and he travelled around the whole of East Anglia doing property surveys.  Mum would sometimes go with him and when I was a bit older I sometimes went during the school holidays.  He became an Associate of the Buildings Societies Institute on 6th December 1968. In June 1970 the above institute merged and he became a Fellow of The Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors.  Dad was allowed to have his office in Harpenden, Hetfordshire and we moved there in 1972.  His choice of career certainly helped his love of getting out and about and not being tied to an office life every day.

Family was important to him and he took much interest to ensure the family were well looked after both at home and his mother and in-laws.  He was a very gentle man and you didn't often hear him raise his voice.

Dad and Mum moved several times during retirement, first to Minchinhampton, Glos where they were closer to both daughters in Glos.  However, the call of Sussex and the sea was strong and they moved first to a bungalow in Little Common and then downsized to a flat in Bexhill.   They changed flats 3 times by the time Dad died in  2006; not long  before their golden wedding anniversary.

Music was a lifetime interest for Dad; he was either playing the piano, singing or listening to it.  He always listened to Radio 4 and Classic FM on the radio and when I went out on Dad's journeys into East Anglia I too got to love classical music.  Dad, Mum and her father and two of her uncles were all members of the Salehurst Parish Church choir and Mum’s sister was too for a while.  Mum and Dad joined the church choir when they moved down to Bexhill too.  Music has carried on down the generations right through to his great grandchildren.  He never lived to see his great grandchildren.

Dad and Mum were keen collectors of antiques including furniture, porcelain and cranberry glass.  They would visit dealers in East Anglia when Dad was out working; some items they kept to use, some for their own collection and some they sold on and make a profit.  Furniture was sold and replacement antique furniture bought when it didn’t fit the rooms in the next home they moved to.

Dad had never been a very practical man and although he could change lightbulbs and fuses I don't think I ever saw him doing the usual DIY around the house and probably a shelf wouldn't have been level or even strong enough to hold anything.  Dad’s love of the outdoors was shown in his beautifully tended gardens and the daily walks wherever they lived.  His gardens were his pride and joy and he was forever out in the garden weeding and watering. They also continued to enjoy going for days out in their car and holidays around the country.  They only went abroad together once.  He was never far from his newspaper crosswords, particularly the cryptic ones.

Advent Calendar Day 17

Thomas White and Elizabeth Linkins

Time for a little bit about the next generation back on Dad's maternal side.  First are his mother's parents Thomas White and Elizabeth (Betsy) Linkins.  Doesn't that photo look so out of keeping for a farm labourer; obviously a studio photo but I wondered how long they had to save to have it taken?  Studio photos used to be very important to that generation.  I have a locket for them and that includes the faces cut from another of these photos.

Thomas was born in Egerton, Kent in 1854 and Betsy Linkins, also in 1854, in Wye, Kent.  They married in 1873 in the Congregational Chapel in Ashford.  After that they lived in the villages of Egerton, Boughton Aluph, Hinxhill and Chilham where they both died.

There is a little bit more about them here  

I don't know very much about the parents of Frank Jackson other than gleaned through census and bmd certificates.  I have found no dna matches except through  similar circumstances to Dad and no photos online.  Frank's parents were Robert Jackson and Helen Telfer(Telford).  Robert was a weaver and Helen a silk weaver in Kilbarchan.  There used to be about 900 handloom weavers in the village in the 1800s. The looms were downstairs in the living area, typical cottages had low beamed ceilings.  It appears my ancestors were not in individual cottages but just rooms that they rented in multi-occupied building. Their first born, Robert, in 1856 was born prior to marriage and a paternity decree provided me with the details for this. 

What next in my Calendar?   I have so far looked at my grandparents and my memories of them and places they lived as they are part of my childhood.  I have given a very quick intro to my great grandparents but I never knew any of them, they died before I was born, as had Frank Jackson, my grandfather. 

It must be time for you to read a little bit about my parents over the next couple of days.

Advent Calendar Day 16

Alfred Crouch and Blanche Elizabeth Braban

Blanche was born in 1880 and died in 1972.  Alfred was born in 1873 and still alive in 1939.

His foster parents were Alfred Crouch and Blanche Elizabeth Victoria Braban who married in 1901.  In the 1911 census it showed they had two children, one alive and one dead.  Their daughter Chrissie (Emily Christina) born 1903 and their son (Harold Victor) born 1902 and died the following year.  Chrissie married Cecil Jarrett in 1924.

This was the couple that brought Dad up in 2 Church Terrace, Church Lane, Salehurst, Sussex.  He was described as a "visitor" in the 1921 census but the story handed down was that it was a private fostering arrangement.

Dad always called her Dolly; maybe that was her nickname because she was such a small short lady .  His 1946 wedding photo newspaper article named him as the foster son of Mrs A Crouch and she was in the wedding photo but not Alfred. She wasn’t even as tall as my grandmother who was about 5ft 3in in that photo; she is on the right.  Blanche is the little lady front left. 

Mum and Dad's wedding in 1946

She was always Granny Crouch to me and as a child I never queried why I had three grandmothers.  I never dreamed of asking, you didn't in those days!  My grandmothers were called "Nan Hastings", "Nan Robertsbridge" and "Granny Crouch".  a nice easy way to identify them when talking about them but certainly not to them!!  She was a lovely smiley person with rosy cheeks when we saw her and she would bustle about the cottage.  She used to wear a big wrap around pinny to keep her clothes clean.  

We always visited her when we went down to Robertsbridge.  It was an inner terrace with an outside lavatory the other side of the pathway which ran along the back of the yards behind the terraced cottages.  We used to sit in the front room which was very dark and had a large wooden clock that made a lovely sound when it chimed.  The table had a deep rich burgundy coloured chenille type cloth over it.  The cloth had tassles all the way round it.  At Christmas time she used to give me a sip of her port and lemon drink.  She had a lodger called Jack Catt who would sometimes come and stand in the doorway to say hello but usually he sat in the back kitchen.

When I was a child we all went to visit Granny Crouch’s daughter, Chrissie, and husband Cecil when they lived in New Road, Lewes.  He worked as a corporation gardener.  Their house was in New Road, over the tunnel for the railway line from Haywards Heath to Eastbourne via Lewes.  I was fascinated by the rumble of trains as they passed through the tunnel and laid down with my ear to the floor! 

Advent Calendar Day 15

Appropriate as it would have been my Dad's birthday today and he would have been 105.

I never thought about why Dad never talked about his father or I never saw him.  My grandmother never talked about him either.  I never even thought to ask; I wouldn't have understood about illegitimacy and its social slur during my childhood.  Even as a teenager and adult I never queried and asked; I suppose I just thought that one day something would be said if there was anything to tell.  I also wasn't doing family history to know that no birth father was listed on his birth certificate.  It wasn't until mid to late 1990s that I was told by Dad that  he had been doing a bit of research himself but couldn't do the travelling to Scotland any more. Thus was my start of getting hooked with family history.

Frank Grieve Jackson

Dad never knew his biological father although Frank didn't die until 1947. Dad so resembled his father in his facial features that I often do a double take when I look at this photo.

My father did remember a man on a motorbike who visited him at his foster parents, Alfred Crouch and Blanche Braban, when he was quite a young boy and apparently that was his father.  My grandmother never spoke about Frank and my father was only given his name when he was conscripted in World War II and needed it for the records. 

Frank was born in 1873 in Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire to Robert Jackson and Helen Telfer.  He was one of nine; six girls and three boys.  He was the youngest one. 

Not much is known about Frank as the only story I have is as the man on the motorbike. I have found the usual genealogy facts  from bmd records and certificates, census records and his Will but nothing else.  We only have one photo of him and one newspaper cutting for his obituary in 1947 that were with my grandmother's possessions when she died in 1975. 

Frank's obituary stated:    Kent Sheepbreader dies,  A member of the Kent or Romney Marsh Sheepbreeders' Association, Mr Frank Grieve Jackson, of Wytherling Court, Molash, died on Saturday, aged 74.  A bachelor, he came from Scotland to farm at Molash 28 years ago and had many friends in East Kent.  Following a service at Molash Church on Wednesday, cremation was at Charing, the only relations present being two nephews from Scotland.

Although Frank was born in Renfrewshire, the family moved closer to Glasgow where he went into partnership with his brother in a general drapers store. 

In 1901 he was unmarried and with his mother and brother, James, in 4 Kildonan Terrace, Govan (Glasgow) and both James and himself were drapers and clothiers at 80-82 Gallowgate, Glasgow.

 

Kildonan Terrace in days gone by.

My father did get a copy of the will written in 1902 but the handwriting was difficult to read.  The will was written in Feb 1902 and he was still living at 4 Kildonan Terrace.  His brothers Robert and James and sister Christina Jackson or Clark and sister Mary Jackson or Callan/Callum were all mentioned in his will.

In 1911 he was a visitor to a farm in Hastings.  The occupants originally came from Scotland close to where Frank lived as a child.  His occupation was listed as Draper retired (he was only 38!!) 

He later moved down to Molash, Kent where he became a well known sheep breeder and farmer. 

Wytherling Court Farm location

Wytherling Court Farm was not so very far away from the area the White family lived at Chilham.

I wonder how a sheep farmer coped in the blizzarding conditions in Kent in 1927-28: snow fell mid December in England and Wales, and on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, a blizzard raged in Southern England, from Kent to Cornwall.

There are a lot of newspaper articles about his sheep winning or being placed in agricultural show competitions.

He sold his farm in 1944 but continued to live in Wytherling Court, Molash.

Kent Messenger Notice 

The burning questions for me are why did he change occupation and move to Kent which was presumably where and why he met my grandmother; in what circumstances did they meet; why did he not keep in touch?  These are all questions that can never be answered now. 😢