musings (189) fun Monday (76) friendship (63) K9 (12)

Saturday, 31 December 2016

Thrice

For three years - Nov. 2014 to Nov. 2016 inclusive we've coped with me being hospitalized (2014) and him 2015 and 2016. At least his came under the heading of elective surgery; for mine there was no option. Nov. 2016 marked the passing of two years since my op. Officially, it has mended as well as it's going to be. I've adjusted as the saying goes. Here's hoping that neither of us have to cope with ops and nursing for the foreseeable future.

Christmas has been and gone but, it has left behind some unknowns. The card list has omissions, something unheard of in previous years. There's an underlying niggle - might some be lost in the post? Wondering if some folk refrained from sending cards this year or might one particular person no longer be with us.

On a positive note, MJM neighbours three have birthdays in Nov. Dec. and Jan. Knowing how eateries struggle to cope in Nov. and Dec. we sometimes celebrate out birthdays all together by going for a Chinese meal at our favourite place. Something to look forward to in the near future.


Wednesday, 21 December 2016

Wolcum Yole

Benjamin Britten 'A Ceremony of Carols' is the essence of Christmas. 

Doing the last bit of shopping this morning, I was struck by the frenetic trolley stuffing of those that just had to buy more and more. I had a few odds and ends in mine, but I saw tandem shoppers, those that had a trolley each rushing round to fill both. Then there was the bloke behind me at the checkout whose trolley was all alcoholic beverages.

Social media is stuffed with images of Christmas trees of all shapes, sizes and decorations. It's also the place for folk to dwell on those no longer around, anniversaries of deaths and funerals.

November to January deaths seem more telling. Now my Christmas card list contains more crossings out again this year. 10th Dec. 2006 Pol died and her funeral was on the 18th Dec. For ever more those dates have those memories. November is when several long-time OUers departed this life. My former colleague always has a difficult time at Christmas because her husband died on Christmas Eve. 

My personal loss was January 1984, a month that rocked my life permanently off its even keel.

Advert slots are for perfumes and gifts, with twee saccharine versions of Christmas. 

My neighbour calls it grumble time, quite rightly. She always wants to be left be from Christmas Eve to after New Year. Yet, 3 different sets of people 'want her' for Christmas. The run up is marked by Jan & Ron squabbling over what to eat. Carol and Dave too squabble and make timetable changes depending on who of their family wants to do what. Paul & Ann think neighbour ought not to be alone and vie to get her to be with them.

News Alert!
There are those that do not mind Not joining in with the Revelry. Especially those like my neighbour who for health reasons has a very restricted diet. She's happy in her own company, knowing the her neighbours are nearby just in case. 

Christmas can be a time of ill-tempered and totally selfish behaviour. In the run up so many folk a stressed out trying to achieve the unattainable. 

Then there's the myth of childhood Christmases past. 

The highlights of my Christmases were walking to church and taking part in various services. Only to return home to find 'armed neutrality' and a feeling of 'stepping on eggshells'. No details. Except for the time we saved Christmas by rescuing the food and heaving a sigh of relief because mother stormed out. (Not an unusual occurrence).

Ending on a happier note...
There were the times when as part of a choir, I sang at performances of
Benjamin Britten - 'A Ceremony of Carols' and Handel's 'Messiah'.






Saturday, 10 December 2016

for what it is worth

December sucks good style...
Far too many posts pretending bonhomie. 

December 10th happens to be the birthday of my neighbour and the brother of my long-time best friend's husband.

Another anniversary is not as welcome as it's 10 years since my friend's mother gave up the ghost. Making December 18th a decade since Mrs H's funeral. It was a grey day and I headed north to meet up. The part I remember most clearly was by the graveside and the memory haunts me still.

You know someone is your long-term friend when both of you attended your respective parents' funerals.

Being there for the significant events in other's lives is a sign of long-term friendship.

So whilst those that have 'n' number of folk to share the celebrations; others have almost nil, nada. 

My memory cherishes the time when I spent part of December in a small Derbyshire village; accompanying Auntie Doris to St. Matthew's Carol Service.

Now Christmas is tarnished yet again...

A brief comment to the effect that Fred might be suffering from dementia.

Fred a rock upon which almost 50 years has stood.

The guy that has always been so ebullient, so full of life writ large...now brought low.

He achieved so much...Ribblesdale Secondary Modern basically let him use his practical skills and that was all.
ICI taught him and employed him as Apprentice Welder; only to dismiss him once he qualified.
Next, he went to Israel on VSO Voluntary Service Overseas; returning as a shadow of his former self (welding in those relentless temperatures).

Then there was a curate's wife who encouraged him to try nursing (mental health). He worked and accrued qualifications at Calderstones. There he used his compassion and his talent for everything artistic.

Next, he raised funds and helped a boy with cystic fibrosis.

Then he bought and refitted a coach to take disadvantaged youngsters on short breaks.

The next venture was to buy and remodel an old cottage. At the time I was at college only returning home for holidays. A must do was to spend time with Fred. He happily showed off the cottage and how homely he'd made it. That was when he rediscovered education along with literacy and numeracy skills.

An old 4 or 5 storey warehouse across the road was his next ambitious target. I remember visiting when he'd discovered an old well there. One side of the building was open to the elements. He'd taken it all back to the original stone walls. Access was only by stepladder as he'd taken it all back to scratch.

Another lasting memory is the house warming party. He'd created a 'granny' apartment using the first floor for his elderly parents.

To think that everything knowledge-wise that was Fred is being eaten away is soul-destroying. 

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Tempus fugit

It's definitely an age thing. This inevitable growing older has knock-on effects.

Why post?

I suppose it's that time of year, coupled with people's birthday's in October - one person turned 65 and the other 31. 

65 another milestone year, especially when you worked out many years ago that in the family the ages for dying appear to be 34 or 73. You then notice 73 on the horizon even tho' it's still a few years away.

Next, your nearest and dearest have suddenly turned over seventy. The news keeps on showing (with monotonous regularity) those famous names you grew up with that are now no more.

All too suddenly, there are far fewer people around and you seem to know more that have passed on than still exist. Add on to it the fact that your best friend has announced that she's planned her funeral...

The next train of thought reminds me that December is a month of anniversaries. Happily a neighbour's birthday is on the 10th.

Unfortunately along comes the memory of a funeral one week before Christmas and that a long-time friend dislikes Christmas time as her husband died on Christmas Eve.

No matter how long ago, the losses continue to resonate.


Monday, 17 October 2016

Assheton, Derby, Delacy, Lumb and llewellyn

Assheton and the village of Downham
Derby, as in Lord Derby
Delacy as in the Lords of the Manor of the Honor of Clitheroe

Three 'houses' named after various Lords and the other two, 
Lumb and Llewellyn past headmistresses. 

The Assheton family have controlled the villages of Downham and Twiston since 1558.
Visitors to the picturesque village of Downham will look in vain for telephone poles and lines. Yes, the village was connected to the telephone system; but the then Lord Assheton did not want the landscape marred. Similarly, there are no TV aerials, satellite dishes, road markings, nor indeed a village name post. A village stuck to all intents and purposes in the 1950s. The Manor house, is home to the Assheton family and the village dwellings are all rented from the Asshetons. 

Derby - Lord Derby

The Stanleys were Earls of Derby
They had connection with Clitheroe and with William Shakespeare.
'Prescott Playhouse' was the only purpose built theatre in England apart from Shakespeare's 'Globe'.

De Lacy sometimes written Delacy
De Lacy Street leads off Castle View, Clitheroe and was originally a steep, cobbled street of terraced houses, with one gas lamp half-way up on the side with most houses.
The De Lacy family were Lords of the Manor of the Honor of Clitheroe.

Lumb
Miss Lumb former headmistress

Similarly
Llewellyn 


Excursion


Last Saturday, I found myself catching the 8.10 train to Manchester. Ahead of me lay several hours in the Mary Seacole building of Salford Uni. 

First, I needed to go to Manchester Oxford Road station to get a connecting train to Salford. I chose to travel from Hough Green Station, because it has only 2 platforms - up to Manchester and down to Liverpool. Similarly, Oxford Rd. has 5 platforms with no. 5 being a terminus and the line to Liverpool. When suffering from anxiety, the fewer decisions, the easier it becomes to travel.

Travel by car was a no-no as it would mean rush hour traffic. Queues to get to Manchester begin miles away e.g. junction 10 Winwick on the M62. You start queuing west of Warrington to get to Manchester. Previously, I've looked across from the train to see the queues.

I detrained at Oxford Rd. and the 'fun' began. Cutting a long story short, I struggled up 20+ stairs and down another 20+ stairs platform 5 to platform 1. Up 20+ stairs and down 20+ stairs platform 2 to platform 5, before finding a member of staff to make my inquiry. Finally up 20+ stairs and down 20+ stairs back to platform 2 for 'my' train. 

A couple of stops later, Salford Crescent station. At least there was a large hording that said. 'SALFORD UNIVERSITY' but nothing about the various buildings. Fortunately another person was heading to the same venue and eventually 3 of us made our way to the right building.

Next trial was to find the right room. Using the lift to the first floor and then the trek around that circular floor began. Good thing I'd built in leeway time to my planning. Half an hour and numerous wrong rooms later I found 'my' room. Another lady had similar difficulty and arrives after me.

What I could not understand was none of the tutors nor the caretaking staff made any effort to label the rooms. 

Anxiety took over and led to tears of frustration.

If anyone is wondering about the image - Hayfield - some of the tutorial stuff was taken from biased accounts of events in 1932.


Saturday, 15 October 2016

The more qualified the tutor, the more impractical the person

At present I'm a student with the Open University. Over the decades they have built up a good reputation. Sadly the 'organisation' is now an omnishambles (what a lovely word). An alternative would be the American expression fubar which involves swear words. Suffice it to say, the OU has become effed-up beyond all recognition.

For many years I've been interested in accessibility of educational materials. Even in the 1970s we learnt how to make displays of educational materials. They had to be eye-catching yet legible and clear to read. Jump forward to now and to my mind the same should apply to on-line materials which in truth are easier to construct and to produce.

Imagine the frustration when having succeeded in joining an on-line tutorial it descends in to death by PowerPoint. I complained as the slides were difficult to read. Then, today the same tutor chose

Adding insult to injury, the screen was crammed with small print in black / navy-blue.

Then there were info sheets taken from a book as in clipped using the original tiny font.  Typically, I'd spent time yesterday making properly accessible copies for myself. It grieved me to see others struggling with the tutor's version.



Monday, 10 October 2016

Confusion...delving into the past

In conversation the other day himself & I were wondering about life a few hundred years ago and the far S.W. of Cornwall in particular.

Although it's now several years since we went there, one particular friend keeps us informed of the day-to-day goings on in and around St. Just (the one near Penzance). The area might be familiar to viewers of Poldark whichever series. Series one in particular was filmed partly around Botallack and Boscaswell (Pendeen).

One of the charming things about Cornwall is place names - Tre, Pol & Pen.

'By Tre, Pol and Pen shall ye know Cornishmen'. Indeed it takes quite a while to get to grips with some of the pronunciations. Men are often addressed as 'pard' and women of whatever age 'maid'.

Looking into family history for our Cornish friend, one soon finds that the biggest on-line archive well-known for wanting £££s has a cavalier attitude to spelling.
Not only spelling but also geography. It's most annoying when they lump together - Dorset, Devon, Cornwall and the Scilly Isles.


Cornish place names not only frequently begin with Tre, Pol or Pen but they are often named after Saints. St. Piran patron saint of Cornwall is remembered in place names. In Cornish he's known as St. Peran, Sen Peran.
Perranporth - St. Piran's port.
Perranarworthal - what a lovely place name!



What a taradiddle

is a highly implausible story; often told as an excuse...

There are so many, it's difficult to choose. Media reports no matter where they stem from, all now seem fatuous  Whether it's across the pond, or across the Channel nothing rings true. In fact I'm tempted to abide by Simon and Garfunkel's motto - I get all the news I want in the weather reports.

The more I hear, read or watch of the on-going circus across the pond; the less I understand. Social media is cram-jam full of media reports, and last night's 'debate' was followed blow by blow on one of our premier broadcasting networks. From time to time I've heard snippets of interviews. Various folk attempting plausible deniability in all shapes and forms. One poor deluded soul opined that by voting for a billionaire, some of that largess would come their way. Crass, insensitive and frankly obnoxious views / opinions broadcast by a billionaire are swept under the political carpet. Similar words expressed over here would doubtless be seized on avidly by the Crown Prosecution Service.

Having had a look see, I'm wiser in some of the differences in 'freedom of speech'.
Our neighbours across the pond have a different idea to those in good old Blighty.

In the UK originally, as in the Magna Carta of 1215 - the freedom of expression was permitted as long as the law did not prevent it.


Then there's the aftermath from the 3rd week in June. 
Speculation is rife verbal and investment-wise. It is selling newspapers, providing fillings for column centimetres. Social media is awash with 'impassioned' verbiage. Carping and criticising, bemoaning and making spurious allegations turning individuals and groups of people against each other. 
The bitter irony being that the individual whose much vaunted 'promises' at party conferences and scribed in his manifesto started the rot. He preened, strutted and pontificated on and from the political stage...before lighting his promised touchpaper. Only to slink off and wash his hands of the consequences. Now society is riven; the media are fuelling dissent and fanning the flames of confrontation. 

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

Trying Times - never rains but it pours

Aug. 4th - TKR as in total knee replacement
Aug. 6th - Ward closed and patients discharged
Aug. 12th - DNA as in Did Not Arrive...Query...who DNA? District Nurse, naturally. 
Aug. 19th - District Nurse breezed in, changed wound dressing and breezed away having discharged patient...crossed off another list. 

Aug. 26th - physio appt. #1 - making good progress, come back next week.
Aug. 29th - FLOOD - rising main began weeping slowly and grew, and grew. Like having a stream flowing into the kitchen. Mains stop valve in pavement inaccessible having been covered in 2ft of tarmac. 
2 hours to excavate, but unable to turn off. 
Called United Utilities. 
Aug. 30th - 1.00 UU plumber arr. wrestled with valve, dreaded it breaking off - managed to turn off mains supply. 
Aug. 30th - spent the day making phone-calls and waiting. Waiting continued until guy arr. to assess situation. No water supply continues...t.b.a.
Aug. 31st - phone-call 10.45 - plumber arr. to reassess situation - long in-depth discussions. Plumber went having decided on action needed. No water...

Sept. 1st - hospital physio appt. #2

Thursday, 11 August 2016

NH uselesS

Neighbours of mine (single ladies) that live next door and next door but one make a formidable duo. They are charity fundraisers despite their poor health. One has Menieres and the other is registered blind. 

At the beginning of this week the latter had a hospital appt. for the Laser Dept. of our Teaching Hospital. 

Tis the 'holiday season' when that teaching hospital has increased absences thro' holidays by staff and volunteers alike. Hence some areas are without staff, no reception and so on. With great difficulty, the ladies made their way to the clinic only to be told it 'was not there' as they were without Reception Staff. I'm omitting details of the rudeness of a senior staff member.

Returning to main reception...the ladies came across the 'helpful' receptionist that gave my blind friend verbal instructions / directions to another clinic - turn left, left etc. Then when told of the person's disability said that as there's no volunteers, no-one could aid said blind person.

Finally my friends made it to a different part of the hospital; where a nurse in charge also failed to notice that the person with the long white stick is 'really' blind. This was after they'd had an 'interview' with her.

Enough said.

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

So different

Apology for the generalisation; but some seem to think 'everyone' is the same no matter where they are.

I love reading blog posts from folks in different countries or places.

Noticing differences is part of the fun. Someone in S.E. England posts more regularly and it's always a delight to read about the happenings. She's always an 'overcoat' different especially in winter and crops are always ahead of ours.

Then there are friends in the U.S.A. and Canada, where life seems both similar and strange at the same time.

A recent post was about a teenager being 'home alone' for a short while. I now realise how in my teenage years (long ago) it was a blessing to have so much freedom. No-one thought anything about girls going for countryside walks. Armed with nothing more than a raincoat, and something to eat and drink we wound our way along country lanes chatting merrily. No money as there was nowhere to spend any, not even bus fare. The lanes we strolled along connected pocket-handkerchief / chocolate box villages. Waiting for a bus would have been a daft thing to do with bus services a couple of times a week. No maps, as we did not possess any nor would we think to have any with us. Just 2 or 3 of us whiling away our time and enjoying the scenery. No thoughts of anything going wrong or any assistance necessary.

Granted times were so different then.

As a child I lived in a steeply sloping terraced street. One of my early memories is of watching the lamplighter lighting the single gas lamp that illuminated the street.
Children played in that cobbled street, no danger from vehicles as they were a rarity. Only the doctor and one of the local shopkeepers had a car.

From the time I began junior school we were allowed to go and play in the castle grounds where there were swings, roundabouts, slides. We were expected to look after and to amuse ourselves. It meant we were out of the way and not 'under the feet' of anyone.

Fortunately the 'street' looked after us youngsters and was full of unofficial 'Aunts'.

So different

Apology for the generalisation; but some seem to think 'everyone' is the same no matter where they are.

I love reading blog posts from folks in different countries or places.

Noticing differences is part of the fun. Someone in S.E. England posts more regularly and it's always a delight to read about the happenings. She's always an 'overcoat' different especially in winter and crops are always ahead of ours.

Then there are friends in the U.S.A. and Canada, where life seems both similar and strange at the same time.

A recent post was about a teenager being 'home alone' for a short while. I now realise how in my teenage years (long ago) it was a blessing to have so much freedom. No-one thought anything about girls going for countryside walks. Armed with nothing more than a raincoat, and something to eat and drink we wound our way along country lanes chatting merrily. No money as there was nowhere to spend any, not even bus fare. The lanes we strolled along connected pocket-handkerchief / chocolate box villages. Waiting for a bus would have been a daft thing to do with bus services a couple of times a week. No maps, as we did not possess any nor would we think to have any with us. Just 2 or 3 of us whiling away our time and enjoying the scenery. No thoughts of anything going wrong or any assistance necessary.

Granted times were so different then.

As a child I lived in a steeply sloping terraced street. One of my early memories is of watching the lamplighter lighting the single gas lamp that illuminated the street.
Children played in that cobbled street, no danger from vehicles as they were a rarity. Only the doctor and one of the local shopkeepers had a car.

From the time I began junior school we were allowed to go and play in the castle grounds where there were swings, roundabouts, slides. We were expected to look after and to amuse ourselves. It meant we were out of the way and not 'under the feet' of anyone.

Fortunately the 'street' looked after us youngsters and was full of unofficial 'Aunts'.

Taken by surprise

Opening up social media at the start of the day (as you do) I was greeted by reference to and pictures of the Ribble Valley.

 Edisford
August 2016 and folk are still relaxing with children playing in the river Ribble.
To think that as children, we'd grab towels and swimwear then head to the river.
We always went across the bridge to the other (Yorkshire) side.
I taught myself to swim in that river and almost drowned myself once.

 Downham Brook
Paddling in and along the brook that flows thro' the village.

Under the bridge Downham Brook
Turn back time some 60 years and that would have been me exploring the brook.

Very few vehicles in those days.
We got the bus to Downham, taking sandwiches and a flask of tea.
 A large flask with a separate glass bottle that fitted in the cup and was to contain the milk.

Tuesday, 31 May 2016

genealogy fun and games

Searching is an art-form, it's also scientific by nature when performed to gain the closest results.

Take for example the Battle of Jutland and someone wanting to find out about one of the casualties. Granted with the power of w.w.w. the world might be your 'oyster'. Note the 'might be'. Unfortunately the largest set of on-line databases has hogged much of the materials or so they'd like you to think. 

You'd think that with such an unusual surname searching would have few problems. Yet, there were a number of casualties with the surname VARNELL.

This is where the US databases lose out to one of the larger English ones.

There you can search the 1939 register, which is a treasure trove of information. 

60 New Road , Portsmouth - home to Arthur and his wife Emily,

Unfortunately, the thread I was reading elsewhere showed folk going on a proverbial 'wild goose chase'.

Some of their findings were comical. Guess they didn't look carefully enough or put much reasoning into their searches.

Thursday, 26 May 2016

Before

there was too much legislation or thou shalt not...








Monday, 23 May 2016

bacon eaters


In the N.W. of England lies an old village known as Low Moor which grew up along the banks of a river.


The banner proudly presents the “ANCIENT ORDER OF BACON EATERS”, depicting a scene with a farmer and a local, conversing outside a cottage with two fine pigs in the foreground.

Many of the villagers were mill workers. Their cottages often had a pig sty in the yard. 

This led to them being nicknamed 'Low Moor bacon eaters'.

For many years the nearby town of Clitheroe held a torchlight procession in the Autumn. Low Moor always sent 'Percy the pig', the Gas Works processed their Gas Works Dragon.


Borrowed from an on-line friend

With gratitude to
Peter Green Ssc

Some anathemas ...
1. Those who ignore or overlook the strain that migration can put on social infrastructure, let them be anathema.
2. Those who will base their decision mainly or solely on their dislike or mistrust of non-English people, let them be anathema.
3. Those who ignore or overlook the defects and shortcomings of the EU, let them be anathema.
4. Those who ignore or overlook the benefits and virtues of the EU, let them be anathema.
5. Those who are aware of the fatuity of the comparison and yet nevertheless liken the EU to Napoleonic Europe or to Nazi controlled Europe, let them be anathema.



Tuesday, 10 May 2016

Wrecks, gravel banks and reporting

Today's news reported from the Irish Sea off Fleetwood. Apparently, drone footage had come across a 'new island'. News, as I keep on finding is nothing like real 'news' when there's nothing actually new about it. Gone are the days when it was expected that someone look up in the records to decide if a report concerned something new.

Those were the days of written documented records noted on cards which then led to the actual documents.  

Today, with the ability to search world-wide, finding information is far easier - a few key-strokes followed by the click of the mouse.

Recent report carried by local news on TV and in the press.

"A bank of shingle and stone has emerged from the sea and appears to be a permanent addition to the geography of the area."

However, a few key-strokes and clicks on the mouse later revealed...

Video footage from 2009
shows a lifeboat crew visiting the gravel bank.

A more truthful account states...

“Admiralty charts from 1700 show there has always been a bank which is called Kingscar Bank, but nothing has been visible like it is now.''


Image from 
The evolution of a coast-line, Barrow to Aberystwyth and the Isle of Man, with notes on lost towns, submarine discoveries (1920)



Monday, 18 April 2016

Sunday, 10 April 2016

West Derby & Halewood

Liverpool Mail 12 December 1846

When clues are left behind on maps and in the landscape.

Top right of the map image note 'Finch house' on appropriately enough 'Finch Lane'.



Saturday, 9 April 2016

In more innocent times

Someone would ask...what is black and white and re[a]d all over?

To which the correct response would be.. a newspaper.

Today cynicism 'rules' and without recourse to actually reading something 'with understanding' far too many 'shoot from the lip'.

I would not normally embrace such Americanisms, but that one rings true.

'Shoot from the hip' has been conflated with 'to give someone lip' or 'to be lippy'. Lippy meaning impertinence.

Far too often in these days of persistent 'social media' folk post in haste with scarcely a nod towards anything resembling truth.

Publication over several pages of the 'news story' concerning the Archbishop of Canterbury in the 'Daily Torygraph' has been bruited abroad willy-nilly.

The articles are in the 'Torygraph' that bastion of all things upper class. Not a red-top, nor the home of tabloid journalism. One of several papers whose reporters are tasked with writing text for those well above the standard reading age of 10 years. 

 Long gone are the days when newspapers earned such epithets as the 'Thunderer'. Nowadays folk apparently lack the ability or willingness to search for truthful reporting. Instead their appetites have been whetted to seek 'down and dirty news'  and the more scurrilous the better!

Thursday, 7 April 2016

Thursday, 31 March 2016

With apologies to Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, becomes - Someone there is that doesn't love our trees.

My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.'

Our poplar trees will never get across
And eat anything in your garden, I tell him.
He only says, 'Trees are dangerous and must be destroyed'.

Having got the Council to come around unannounced...he was disappointed to find that
None of those poplars are dangerous.

But...
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.' 
Someone there is that doesn't love poplar trees, or any trees, come to that.
Having chosen and bought a house that backs on to a row of poplars...he remains hell-bent on their destruction.

Here be poplars, posted here in the name of posterity.

“Every trees has its enemy, few have an advocate. 
In all my works I take the part of trees against all their enemies”. Now, if only we would all play the part of an advocate for Nature, maybe we would regain a glimpse of the Shire or Lothl√≥rien in our own woods. J.R.R. Tolkien


Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Wandering thro' genealogy

Strathclyde Uni are hosting a genealogy MOOC. Totally free and in week 2 mire interesting.

Being led away from standard searches and invited to find out by using a more rounded approach. 

The Sidebottom family in the High Peak.

Samuel born late 18th century / early 19th century (yet to be determined)
Dau. Sarah married in All saints Church, Glossop 1853

This is where the fluid movement of folk cross county makes problems.

The town of Glossop and village of Hayfield vary in importance over the centuries with Glossop becoming an assemblage of villages and hamlets clustered round various churches. Hayfield's hamlets remained affiliated to the Parish church of St, Matthew until the growth of sundry non-conformist chapels.

Now for week 3 and delving deeper. Learning to use wildcard* searches.

What is an effective search?

  • One that returns results on highly likely matches
  • One that returns results on the correct individuals
  • One that doesn’t overwhelm you with too many results
  • One that doesn’t underwhelm you with too little or no results.

Thro' the good offices of the O.U. my searching methods are already pretty good. Now they ought to be even better!

Seems the use of multiple genealogy sites is recommended.

Anc£$try is expensive
Find My Past is better value for money and gives loyalty discounts
Then there are multiple freebies.

Comparisons are the way to go.

FMP alone has the 1939 register, a mine of useful information
Anc£$try has some of the weirder info from nooks & crannies.

....wandering happily along continues

Saturday, 26 March 2016

weekend


Doubly memorable weekend as Easter 2016 coincides with a remarkable centenary.

From the Irish Times

This weekend’s events marking the centenary of the 1916 Easter Rising will be rooted in respect and inclusivity -
Minister for Arts, Heritage and the Gaeltacht, Heather Humphreys has said.

Dublin city is a place I've visited and stayed in many times over the past 14 years. First as a birthday present to mark a certain birthday, then to celebrate my God-daughter's 21st and other times 'because it's there.'

A city rich in history and culture, a very much living history part of everyday life.




Wednesday, 16 March 2016

Sunday, 13 March 2016

In a word

Since last October, I have been making my way through the Open Uni c*urse or module as they are now called. I prefer c*urse as it has a double meaning and was a term often used in the good old days of OU study.

Grammar in Context seemed likely to be doable, so I took the plunge. One has to take advantage of transitional arrangements while it lasts.

Previously, I completed Worlds of English which was hard work but thoroughly enjoyable. Cue my present studies, what a contrast - like as the old saying goes 'pulling teeth'.


The bane of E304 is the UAM-CT computer program.
A necessary evil...
Life is too short to detail the shortcomings of this insult to the term computer program.

Drilling down into texts by analysing the life out of them. Resurrecting knowledge acquired in junior school.

Both U214 and E304 have impacted on my ability to read and to listen. Unconsciously, I find myself taking apart texts as I come across them.

E.g. if someone says something is 'not chocolate' and then lists 'cocoa' in the ingredients my 'linguistics' etymology brain makes an objection since cocoa is the prime ingredient of chocolate, no cocoa = no chocolate.

Then I came across some folk talking about and recommending some sets of fiction books (series). Going to previews of those texts, reading or attempting to read a couple of paragraphs, my linguistics self shudders and I have to leave the page vowing to add those authors (loosely) to the do not bother with list, even if their texts are £0.00 i.e. free.

Snobbish? I don't agree, more like discerning and making better informed choices. I know folk who on picking up a book, 'must' read to the bitter end no matter what. No way would I ever punish myself like that now I have the option to decline. Schooldays literature was a 'must' therefore I ploughed through the works of Jane Austin and Thomas Hardy. I also over the years went though several works by Charles Dickens and Shakespeare; and a good grounding they were; not forgetting Chaucer.

Returning to the idea of reading choice and linguistics. The latest topics in E304 have been Tenor and Mood leading to analyses of texts from that angle. Looking at repetition, chains of meaning, lexical density along with grammatical density and cohesion. No wonder some authors with their pointlessly repetitive formulaic texts are to be ignored "shampoo-rinse-repeat sort of author, churning out the same old - same old".

Give me the fluent, richly worded, well-grated works of Tolkien, the most satisfying read in my experience. Also, other early twentieth century authors - along with the likes of the nineteenth century authors - Kipling, Wells. Not forgetting the other Inklings friends of Tolkien and brilliant writers in their own right.