Current news the Russian invasion of Ukraine tragically apart, is so dull, that a blog post based on recent events such as they are, would risk being even duller, hence this blogpost about part of the maytree's family tree. I understand now why some public news broadcasts can be pretty dull or repetitive on many days.
A niece who is the daughter of one of my sisters, told us that she was researching the family trees of both her fiance and herself. She is to marry a young man who lived in Wimbledon, in a couple of months time.
Another sister had some photographs of members of our family including some of our father's father, who I recall well though he died whilst I was at long since closed, Ladycross boarding school. My parents, with difficulty did eventually persuade the Ladycross headmaster to permit me to attend granddad's funeral with them.
Ladycross was a dreadful place given some but not all, of the staff, though it was situated between Brighton and Eastbourne both of which were at the time and probably still are, delightful seaside towns.
Reverting to the family tree, my youngest sister kindly emailed to family members, a copy of an old photo of my grandfather on dad's side, as well as a photo of his wife, my grandmother. She had died when dad was only a young boy so although I knew grandad quite well and enjoyed his inexhaustible supply of Mars bars, I never knew his wife our grandma:
Great blog, Jeremy! Your readers may be interested to learn that Grandma Catherine is wearing the uniform of the Land Army circa 1915.
ReplyDeleteCatherine died when my father was a little boy. He lived in the then tough East End of London in Whitechapel. One Sundays, he regularly volunteered as an Altar Boy (helping a Catholic priest to serve mass).
Just before the service, he heard the sad news of his mother’s death. His eyes welled up with tears which he manfully tried to quell. His little friends , tough and rough boys, told him: ‘It was OK to cry. He remembered their kindness for the rest of his life.
This is the only memory I have of Catherine.’ Dad, despite such humble beginnings and growing up without a mother, rose through the ranks (most unusual in those days) to be a Squadron Leader in the RAF.
He subsequently was a senior lecturer in Maths and died at the ripe old age of 94 in 2014. I never saw him cry again.. May he rest in peace.