Connections!!

Friday night and Parade's End had come to an end. Flicking through the TV channels we decided that a programme about real servants looked the most likely to have on in the background whilst doing other things - knitting, looking at Facebook etc. Husband then casually mentions his grandmother who he knew to have been in service - just where was she?
The 1911 census gave her address in Cheltenham. Google maps provided an image of the actual house - not the grand estate that had been the inital thought but a substantial property where she had been housemaid to a woman and her companion.
This discovery prompted a search to find out more about the lady of the house and first port of call was the Forest of Dean genealogy site. Here I discovered that the founder of the site had sadly died and then I could find nothing about the mistress of the household. Whilst on the site, however, I decided to just add the names of a few elusive relatives - sisters of the said grandmother - elusive possibly as a result of the surname "Jones". Oh my goodness - there they were - both of them!
Putting together what I knew - names and location, on this particular site the transcriptions of the parish records are excellent - full details of marriages - including names of fathers and witnesses. I found both their marriages probably after over a decade of searching.
By this time I was totally hooked to the laptop and only half glancing at the TV - by now moved on to the news. I quickly found children from both marriages, in laws, then grandchildren. The tabs at the top of the browser increased - Ancestry, genesreunited, freeBMD, google maps, forest-of-dean, ravelry!! The family was growing - first cousins of my late mother in law, their children and grandchildren. Very distant relatives my husband commented until we calculated just how many children and grandchildren of my late parents' cousins we know and keep in touch with on a very regular basis - what about Julie and Debbie and Mary I said?
A little after midnight I reluctantly pulled the lid of the laptop done and went to bed.
Teeth brushed, shower, washing in, cup of tea and laptop opened. A clue from one website led to more names and another location from telephone directories on the 1960s. A road in Bristol that I had driven dowm countless times with the younger daughter when she had been at university - spooky. Another road in Lambeth ( lovely house - wonder what it was like all those years ago) and is this near to where younger daughter's dear friend lives?
So many connections and some wonderful new names - not a Jones in sight - a Smith but then you can't win them all.
I am so excited by all these new discoveries. I was one sleeve off finishing a lovely Debbie Bliss baby cashmerino cardigan but that is going to have to wait a while as is the denim blue cotton baby jacket that I had just been commissioned to knit - by the friend who had come to tea having recently lost Demi. How things change in a few hours. Yesterday I was in realms of negativity - no eggs, dead cats......but as the day progressed what excitement, what joy at new discoveries. I feel energised, full of optimism for the day. What wonderful things will I find out today? It is a while since I have felt so inspired by my family history research and so full of wonder at life's "coincidences". If Parade's End hadn't finished we would not have been flicking channels to find something to watch. If we hadn't watched the Servants programme husband wouldn't have mentioned his grandmother. It I hadn't looked at the Forest of Dean site for one thing I wouldn't have found the other thing that I had not been looking for at the time. There is a saying that there are no such things as coincidences, just god's way of performing a miracle and staying anonymous - I rather like that.

The hens have stopped laying

Late September and  inexplicably all the hens have stopped laying. From 5 or 6 eggs a day we now have none. Nothing much has changed - we did go away for a few days but they were looked after by our new neighbour; the weather has been awful but then it has been dreadful all year; some of them are looking bedraggled and are obviously being bullied but then that has been happening for some time. Whenever production has reduced in the past we have altered their feed to include only layer pellets with neither corn nor treats and so this has become the new regime - we will just have to wait and see.
More bad news came with the demise of Demi - the cat belonging to some near friends, who was killed on our road - a busy noisy main route which I try to ignore if I can but which often causes me to remember that there are some things I can do something about and other things that I am completely powerless over.
As this seems to be a post with a rather negative tone then I will continue with the disappointment I have been experiencing with the yarn I recently purchased. I had thought that I wanted cotton yarn and that it would be fun to knit with and would look good. I was wrong. I dislike knitting with it, it shows every slight imperfection and I am not happy with it - especially as I bought in volume and now have an awful lot of unsatisfactory ( to me) yarn. The moderne baby blanket I started will probably not be finished; the log cabin probably will be finished but it will not be something I really want to keep or show to people; the baby cardigans are alright but not what I expected. I must try to think of some other things to use the yarn for.
Nowadays it is rare for me to have negative days and, if things do seem bad, I know what I have to do. To take my mind off things not going well today I decided to bake an apple cake, picking up a few windfalls and to make a ratatouille with some garden courgettes ( needless to say I forgot about that and it burnt! - it would do today) I have also been knitting using some beautiful yarn from the stash - but that is not turning out as well as I had hoped - oh dear!
I started to laugh to myself as I just wrote the last paragraph. There was a time when all the above would have been a disaster but there is usually a solution for everything and one will appear at the right time. I have lit a fire and a log is burning brightly, it is not raining and a friend is coming round for a cup of tea . Everything will be alright in the end and it it is not alright it is not the end.

Figs, eggs, potatoes, apples and courgettes

September brings the best of the garden produce for this year - nothing compared to the abundance of previous years but quality not quantity must be the mantra for this season.
My earlier dinner party menu of goat's cheese souffles ( with the eggs) followed by fish with new potatoes and courgettes fried in butter and garlic ( potatoes and courgettes from the garden) and fruit salad (with garden figs) seemed a good, simple way to use the produce, but a recent trip to France with attendant purchases opens up a whole new range of ideas.

Eggs for creme anglaise, creme brulee, creme caramel, omelette fine herbes, mayonnaise
Figs with goat's cheese, compote, baked with honey, in pastries - fig tarte tatin
Apple sauces with pear, rhubarb, raspberry
Frites - and frites

Shopping trips to France have been a feature in my life for more years than I care to remember and, although there are so many more things available here than there used to be, I still like to come back with stocks of some of my favourite must haves:

Rouille
Aioli
Calvados
Merguez
Neufchatel en bray
Galettes
Petit beurre

Military cemeteries

I am a frequent visitor to northern France and to memorials of, particularly, the Great War. Many years ago I started to trace my family history. Amongst papers belonging to my late grandmother was a photograph of a young first World War soldier with the word " Brother" writeen on it. A complicated family revealled a husband who married 3 times, had 4 children and 1 adopted child. His eldest son died in the Great War and his youngest daughter is still alive today. Visiting the memorial to Harry Stevens at Tyne Cot was an emotional journey. This week I have been to the military cemetery at Etaples  near to le Touquet. So far as I am aware I have no relatived remembered in this place but the feeling of yet another corner of a French field is little different. Tears well at the huge visible demonstration of loss of young life and the realisation that it still continues. A young soldier in the family died in Afghanistan not so long ago. Etaples was particularly significant to me with hospital deaths - my grandfather drove an ambulance in the Second World War - and remembrance of soldiers from both World wars of the 20th century. I like the solitude of the cemeteries even though there is always someone else there. I like the white gravestones, the simplicity, the dignity. Wreaths and notes left behind for family members unknown but remembered bring a lump to the throat. Visiting Auberchicourt some years ago to see the place of rest of my great great uncle Albert I realised that I may well have been the only person in the family to visit and it would have been nice to have left a mark of respect. So many graves appear neglected in this country and the CWGC make such an excellent job of maintaining sites in Europe that I have seen. Taking flowers to the grave of my late in laws in South Wales some years ago we took a few flowers from the bunch and laid them at the grave of grandparents and an aunt. There was no flower receptacle so they were laid across in front of the headstone. Remembrance.

A Noah interruption

A text from a daughter informs me of the birth of a new baby within her circle of friends. A great excuse to start baby knitting again - perhaps from the new cotton in the stash! I had forgotten how small baby items are; how fiddly to make up; the fact that they need buttons! I steered clear of my usual default baby jacket and found a pattern in the new book bought along with the new stash - suspiciously similar to the default jacket but no raglan sleeves and a bit of a pattern on the yoke. The denim blue cotton from the stash would work well and so the first Noah cardigan was born. Little mittens in the same yarn added to the gift but, on a roll with baby knitting, I then made the default jacket with some lovely cottonsoft yarn from the new stash - more flannelette sheet than Egyptian cotton.
2 jacket and 2 mittens down and I was feeling withdrawal symptons from log cabin knitting. The Cowichan was finished, a baby blanket on the needles was unbearably boring and not going anywhere so I made the inevitable decision to cast on another log cabin. This is going to be Flaming June mark 2. The yarn is cotton from the new stash and the colours orange, red and cream. It feels like coming home to be knitting squares again and not just squares but log cabin squares. There is another project on needles - a blanket of squares but not log cabin - it is just not the same and I cannot quite get into finishing it although the yarn - bamboo cotton and colours - greens and blues and purples - are both wonderful. Perhaps another frogging option or one of those things that, once started, should be finished - after the log cabin.

The second Cowichan

The beginning of September seemed an appropriate time to finish my second Cowichan inspired jacket. I loved the first one so much that I bought the wool for at least 2 or maybe 3 more. This one is a beautiful, if not traditional, green and I made a smaller size than before - again I have fallen in love. There is something so comforting about a chunky, warm jacket that feels comfortable and has no designs on current styles - in a manner of speaking! I have no wish to follow trends and clothes, nowadays, are for comfort not appearance, warmth not style and entirely individual. I don't think I will ever see someone else wearing an identical jacket. Even the fastenings are quirky - some old toggles found in my grandmother's button box - no doubt from some long forgotten duffle coat - perhaps this will be setting a new trend!
For some reason I am finding it impossible to upload a photo of the this new jacket - it is green and purple and cream and fawn and beautiful!

Finally able to upload a photo - shame you cannot feel a photograph.