Post by michael on Sept 17, 2015 14:31:04 GMT
Mike Statham Sept. 2015
The Past
Alan Watkins thought it was about time he got down to it. He had been thinking about it, reading about it, talking to people about it but as yet had not put a single word to paper. Now that he had finally retired there was no viable reason why he should not research his family history. After all, with all the assistance now available on the Internet, it should not be all that difficult. It might transpire that he was related, albeit remotely, to the Nobility!
The 1st. part was easy; both his parents were still alive and could provide their birth certificates, which showed where and when they were born. Nothing exceptional; his father was born and had worked in the same farm that he inherited from his father. He had had two brothers, one was killed serving as an air-gunner, and a sister, killed during a London blitz whist working as a nurse.
Alan could not remember very much of his grand parents; his grandpa died of tuberculosis when Alan was a boy and grandma went blind and “just faded away”. They had a large family but two died in infancy and four were killed during WW I. Earlier than this it became harder to trace the family but the census of 1871 showed the family still in the same farm with 3 sons and 2 daughters.
An advantage of the family having lived in and around the same farm for so many years was that it was easier to trace them through parish records, the births, marriages and deaths. They were a prolific family but, frustratingly, quite a few disappeared with no record of their fates. Alan did have some luck with copies of the local paper held in the Library. It showed that a William Watkins had joined the County Regiment and, after illustrious service, had been killed in action. A search through Regimental records revealed that he had joined as a Private, risen via Corporal to Sergeant but then demoted back to Private due to being “drunk and disorderly” before being speared to death during the Zulu Wars.
A further Jim Watkins, who could have been his brother or cousin had been deported to Australia for cattle rustling. Nothing further could be found. Alan also found the obituary for a noted public figure, Alderman the Rev. Silas Watkins. He had devoted much time and energy to improving the lot of young women who had “fallen upon hard times”. The Rev. died in 1803 from syphilis, possibly a gift from one of his grateful followers.
And so it went on, death and disaster throughout the family tree. Alan became quite despondent and decided to call a halt before he reached the period of the Plague, or the Black Death, whichever colourful title you chose to give it. With his luck he could find that the entire family had been wiped out.
Talking to his friends he decided that the expression “Good old Days” was a myth and that living in the past was, in reality, a hard grind with little to look forward to. He was glad that he was comfortably housed and well fed and in reasonably good health. Sod the past he concluded.
The Past
Alan Watkins thought it was about time he got down to it. He had been thinking about it, reading about it, talking to people about it but as yet had not put a single word to paper. Now that he had finally retired there was no viable reason why he should not research his family history. After all, with all the assistance now available on the Internet, it should not be all that difficult. It might transpire that he was related, albeit remotely, to the Nobility!
The 1st. part was easy; both his parents were still alive and could provide their birth certificates, which showed where and when they were born. Nothing exceptional; his father was born and had worked in the same farm that he inherited from his father. He had had two brothers, one was killed serving as an air-gunner, and a sister, killed during a London blitz whist working as a nurse.
Alan could not remember very much of his grand parents; his grandpa died of tuberculosis when Alan was a boy and grandma went blind and “just faded away”. They had a large family but two died in infancy and four were killed during WW I. Earlier than this it became harder to trace the family but the census of 1871 showed the family still in the same farm with 3 sons and 2 daughters.
An advantage of the family having lived in and around the same farm for so many years was that it was easier to trace them through parish records, the births, marriages and deaths. They were a prolific family but, frustratingly, quite a few disappeared with no record of their fates. Alan did have some luck with copies of the local paper held in the Library. It showed that a William Watkins had joined the County Regiment and, after illustrious service, had been killed in action. A search through Regimental records revealed that he had joined as a Private, risen via Corporal to Sergeant but then demoted back to Private due to being “drunk and disorderly” before being speared to death during the Zulu Wars.
A further Jim Watkins, who could have been his brother or cousin had been deported to Australia for cattle rustling. Nothing further could be found. Alan also found the obituary for a noted public figure, Alderman the Rev. Silas Watkins. He had devoted much time and energy to improving the lot of young women who had “fallen upon hard times”. The Rev. died in 1803 from syphilis, possibly a gift from one of his grateful followers.
And so it went on, death and disaster throughout the family tree. Alan became quite despondent and decided to call a halt before he reached the period of the Plague, or the Black Death, whichever colourful title you chose to give it. With his luck he could find that the entire family had been wiped out.
Talking to his friends he decided that the expression “Good old Days” was a myth and that living in the past was, in reality, a hard grind with little to look forward to. He was glad that he was comfortably housed and well fed and in reasonably good health. Sod the past he concluded.