Tag Archives: Huguenots

Who Do I Think I Am?

Who Am I?,Rocking Dog

Who Am I?

In my next life apart from coming back as a Scandinavian I will study History, Archeology or Geneology! I have always loved history and my poor family have become accustomed to withstand the latest information excitedly gleaned from Ancestry. Poor damp children have been tramped through muddy graveyards in Yorkshire and sent on their way to visit distant relatives in New Mexico! Meanwhile long suffering Andyman and I  have taken a trip to New Zealand knocking on the doors of Scottish ancestors. In for a penny in for a pound we looked up folk whose ancestors lived and baked in the Rocking Dog Kennel in the 1800’s and now reside in Rotorua.

Who Do You Think You Are? is my sort of TV viewing. I really can understand those tearful Jeremy Paxman moments. During my own family research I found a relative who had died in a bakery accident. His wife and children were shipped off to America, i’m certain to relieve the state of maintaining the families welfare. There was the relative who was in a Scottish workhouse, and the poor woman with four daughters who was cast aside by her husband to marry another who produced sons. There are large families, many child deaths, an illegitimate child born to a servant girl. There is TB, war service, widowhood, drudgery, a judge, global travel, philanthropy, entrepreneurism, farming the land and Chalmers gelatine!

With all this ancestry nerdism my girls chose well with their Christmas gift, an Ancestry DNA kit. Today I will spit in a tube, add the stabilising solution and post my DNA in the prepaid box. As the meerkats say…Simple! In approximately six weeks I will be e.mailed with the results. The test gives insights into ethnicity, where ancestors were from and what migratory journeys they went on. Ancestry has a huge database and can connect with 90,000000 family trees. It can help find long lost relatives or even prove that you are related to an important historical figure. I’m certainly not expecting to be linked to Richard III, William Shakespeare or the like! My mothers family worked the land in Yorkshire and I have gone back (with the help of other Ancestry subscribers) to around 1550. Regarding my Scottish fathers ancestry there were always mootings of a French connection. Very possibly they came to UK as persecuted Huguenots. We will see!

Still on an ancestry theme I have been continuing to do some research for the Remember Me Project. I have set myself the task of researching in depth the lives of the 53 World War names on the Whiteshill Common Memorial. Though not my ancestors, the census’s and other documentation does give one a real sense of these local lives.

Have a lovely week and stay cosy!

Love Rocking Dog x

Box Full Of Surprises,Rocking Dog

Box Full Of Surprises

DIY DNA,Rocking Dog

DIY DNA

My Ancestry,Rocking Dog

My Ancestry

Sepia Ancestors,Rocking Dog

Sepia Ancestors

Someone Else's Ancestors,Rocking Dog

Someone Else’s Ancestors

French Blood?,Rocking Dog

French Blood?

The Ripening Hambrook Harvest

From Little Acorns....,Rocking Dog

From Little Acorns….

I escaped the kitchen and ALL that china for a brief while yesterday. I was surely succumbing to cabin fever or should that be soapy sud kitchen fever! Real Live Rocking Dog provides the perfect excuse to drop the tea towel and  get out on the Frome Valley walkways which hug our fortunate doorstep.

How lovely to walk in sunshine and have blue fluffy cloud skies as a gorgeous last day in July canopy. Along the walk there were burgeoning and ripening crops of sloes, bullace, elderberries and blackberries. I spied a particularly luscious crop of blackberries over a pennant stone wall. Alas, they were unattainable with the river a watery barrier. A host of birds and other wildlife will have a veritable feast with no humans able to access and pick this precarious crop. Other bird food is ripening ready for the colder less plentiful days of late autumn and winter. Haws, rosehip and holly will serve them well.

Family folklore suggests that my fathers maternal family may have been Huguenots. Have you ever witnessed how  many French folk behave on a beach, they are not sunbathing, they are not swimming .. they are foraging! They have pails and spades, nets and lines and going in search of lunch or to find bait to catch lunch! Mussels, whelks, coastal plants, shrimp and crab are simply not safe. I see ripening elderberries and think of their addition in a summer pudding, an apple pie or crumble, ice cube or stew. Sloes and bullace again are destined in my mind to immersion in vodka or gin. I love to use the bloated alcohol soaked berries in rocky road and in ice creams, sorbets and warming winter stews. Just maybe, yes maybe I indeed do have French foraging blood flowing in my veins!

I love the way the Italians celebrate and give thanks to every crop they harvest and every animal they hunt. There are ancient walled hilltop towns close to where we live in Umbria which annually celebrate the bread, the oil, the wine, the saffron, the wild boar, the sweet chestnut, and so on! In the spring we were treated to the most wonderful feast at the little village hall in “our” village. The valley was vibrantly yellow with Mimosa trees and so this tree was celebrated along with World Women’s Day. The men (with undoubtedly some help of the female kind in the background!) of the village cooked for the women. We sat down to plates of crostini followed by two pasta courses (one with a pork ragu sauce and the other a tomato sauce). Lamb, steak and locally produced sausages cooked on a wood fired brazier together with a delicious dressed salad came next. Finally a specially baked mimosa coloured iced cake was proudly bought out and served with Grappa. Throughout the meal we had bottles of very quaffable locally produced red wine and then it was time to dance. Bad dancing translates and is understood in whatever language you speak! The Macarena danced for the final time it was time to wearily and bloatedly stumble home. Each woman was presented with a branch of Mimosa as she left together with hugs and hearty “buona notte’s”. It was such a lovely multi generational community event and we couldn’t have been made to feel more welcome. We do not celebrate anything enough in this country and unfortunately unlike the Italians many British would not embrace a party encompassing all generations.

Back to walking along my favourite Hambrook walk (nicknamed “Mr Badger walk” because of an old sett along its route) the earth was littered with crops that hadn’t quite made it. Amongst the carpet of last years autumnal leaf fall there were conkers, beech masts and cobnuts lying like jewels. They had simply dropped before their time or had been slain by squirrels not willing to wait!

At the stile there was a solitary doe eyed cow with Bully the blooming big bull. I couldn’t help thinking “poor cow!” Perhaps she’ll have her very own harvest in the spring.

Very soon it was time to return to THAT china … but I felt so much better after a brief but wonderful nature filled sojourn.

 

Future Harvest,Rocking Dog

Future Harvest

Ditto!,Rocking Dog

Ditto!

Unattainable Harvest,Rocking Dog

Unattainable Harvest

Too Early....,Rocking Dog

Too Early….

...Too Late!,Rocking Dog

…Too Late!

One For The Pan,Rocking Dog

One For The Pan

Late Summer Harvest,Rocking Dog

Late Summer Harvest

Christmas Harvest,Rocking Dog

Christmas Harvest

Spring Harvest? Poor Cow,Rocking Dog

Spring Harvest? Poor Cow