Espana III

Everyone needs to be spoiled now and again. Look very closely below and you'll spot my benefactress. My little sister and my bestest friend...she tagged along on her husband's business trip to Madrid so I figured why not make a crowd of three. Stuart had to go to some very important meetings though so Lucy hired a car and took me on the road.

After the Bourbon palace at Aranjuez and half a lamb for lunch at Chinchon, a panorama at Cuenca. Not sure if that bridge wobbles or if it was just our knees. Trust me, it's a lot higher up than it looks. 

Cuenca isn't short on rooms with a view...

and it has a papier mache cathedral...

Look at that sky! And the 7 perfectly preserved towers of the castle ain't too bad either. This is Molina de Aragon.

Another castle, this one doubled up as our hotel for the night.

 

We ate like infantas, slept in castles, climbed over ruins and enjoyed landscapes with the most beautiful colour palettes. There was just one thing missing...our little back seat driver. Lucy and I kept looking behind us and remarking how much we missed having Jonathan along for the ride. But he's 14 now and was busy back home being mr. social butterfly. It seems we managed to raise a happy, confident and well-liked young man after all. Still it's not like all the signs weren't there, when we took him to Spain eleven years ago and he charmed everyone along the way. 

Montana

Dad and I spent a long anticipated week in Montana in July. Three generations of our family - the Ducies and O'Brien's, our favourite ancestors - lived in the area around Butte, a bustling mining town in the latter nineteenth century which grew to over 100,000 miners and assorted characters by 1900.

There was gold, silver, sapphires and mainly copper in these mountains and they made many wealthy men, including my 2x great grandfather. Today Butte is a shadow of its former self, with only 32,000 people. It is encircled by snow-capped (in July!) mountains.

There be copper in them there hills!

They gave up on deep pit mines in the 1950s and went for the more direct approach. The main copper mine open cast pit has filled up with water - its one thousand feet deep below that surface. The colours are beautiful. Shame about the periodic table's worth of poisonous heavy metals that make the water a killer.

The infamous Hersperus Lode - a mining claim which brought my 2x great grandfather endless headaches and legal battles. It's now 'the projects' end of the town, so the misery continues.

The building where I'm pretty sure my 2x great grandparents met. She was the proprietress of a hotel on the premises, he was prospecting for gold and copper up north and most likely stayed at the hotel when he was in Butte on business. I recently chatted up a fellow on the desk at a youth hostel in Cardiff where I was staying while on a work/research trip. Grandpa Ducie fared a lot better than I did.

They moved to the nearby town of Anaconda in 1900 and both died there in 1917. The cemetery sits on the side of the mountain and they have the biggest gravestone in the cemetery. Dad is rather proud of that.

Their daughter was one of the town's debutantes. She married a fast talking Irishman from Boston and they lived in this house. My grandmother was born here. It the niftiest looking house in town. They had good taste.

More Ducy news

I'm using a death certificate I recently obtained for one of my Ducy ancestors as an example for the magazine. It was our designer Paul who pointed out (can't believe I hadn't noticed) that the informant on the certificate was the coroner. So this evening I checked the newspapers for a report of the inquest:

 Yesterday (Tuesday) an inquest was held before W. Hayes, jun., Esq., deputy coroner, at the Angel Inn, in this town, on the body of a child four months old, named Winifred Ducey, who died on the previous Sunday, from the effects of scalds received nine days previously by the contents of a coffee pot (which accidentally fell from the fire) passing over her. Verdict accordingly.

Our 2x great grandfather's little sister. Having fled Ireland about 1846/7, his family didn't find life was that much better in England. They lost three more infants (cause of death was essentially poverty and squalid living conditions) before they picked up again and fled to America. The parents and the four children that survived were all successful, in some cases considerably so, and died in genuine, not just relative, comfort. 

Christmas dinner (it's never too early for the food!)

I thoroughly disapprove of the way Christmas starts in September these days.  Though one thing can never come too soon - some delicious Christmas grub.  You can put a mini sausage wrapped in bacon or a bit of chestnut stuffing in front of me any day of the year and expect to get a smile. 

So Saturday, we celebrated with an early Christmas dinner.  Roast lamb, potatoes, parsnips, stuffing, sausages, and more food which I can't remember but I know that I ate.  What's more I shared it with four wonderful friends.  They spoiled me with presents, hugs and lots of Christmas excitement.

After dinner, we bunched up of the sofa to watch Lincolnshire's answer to Adonis (supposedly), Guy Martin, build a boat. And make a kettle.  And get naked in a Victorian power shower.  He's real popular with the ladies of the house (and probably the dudes too, they're just not admitting it).  The DVD was a Christmas present - but the excitement had boiled over and the presents all got opened over a week early!  Eh, it happens.

So now only one week and one day to go.  Dad is here, Stephen comes a week today. (It's an all grown ups Christmas this time - we've left the mini people mayhem to Lucy and Stuart this year)  The Christmas Christmas dinner grub has all been ordered, and more for the day after, and the day after...Mmmmmmmm   Stephen's promised to bring Harrod's cheese counter home in a shopping bag Christmas Eve, and anything else that takes his fancy. 

Christmas = FOOD!

Marriage news

No, not me.  As if.

I never have time to do my own family history research, but I needed to test out a new website which has a huge collection of American historical newspapers.  So why not use my own family to test the scope of what they have.  I've trawled through several sites before and pulled dozens and dozens of articles about my Ducie ancestors from Montana.  Great-grandma was an heiress - the fanciest girl in town - and Daddy was a v. wealthy mine owner.  There are loads of press clipping and I thought I had them all, but was delighted to find this:

Even though they had tons of cash, the wedding was a pretty modest affair as the mother of the bride (my great-great grandmother Ellen who favoured a loopy hair style that made her look like a Christmas ornament ready to be hung from a nail or a tree branch) was quite unwell and in fact passed away the following winter.

This detail was interesting - the article says the bride wore green, while her younger sister the bridesmaid wore the white dress.  Which makes sense really - white doesn't suit anybody.  So make your sister look all washed out in photographs while you truly look the bell of the ball in a complexion enhancing jewel tone. Might try that myself some day. 

New job (sort of)

New adverntures are well and truly underway.  I've begun working as an editor for Your Family History magazine.  Currently, I'm officially titled the Research Editor for the magazine, but that is just temporary as I train for something more involved.  My output so far includes two editions of our six-page news section and the first edition of a regular column drawing on my background in US genealogy research entitled Letters from America.  I'm also prepping articles for issues up through April 2013, starting to commission articles, and developping ideas for stories and new features. 

This isn't quite what I saw myself doing when I skidded into Who Do You Think You Are Live? three years ago, but I'm quite happy with where things are going.  Writing the news every month is a great to stay on top of it and I'll know about every new genealogy record set that goes online, every major website and online family tree network and type of software for genealogy that there is, and I'll get to go through and pick out the best readers stories and learn new things every day. I'll be gaining some very useful skills as an editor, which can't do me any harm.  And I'm told if I call up places and tell them I'm press I can gain free or behind the scenes access to all sorts of things.  Now I really like the sound of that.  I love to go exploring! 

Nashville

Lucy's birthday present to me was a chance to play one of the most famous pianos in the world - the 1947 Steinway at Studio B in Nashville, played by Elvis and many of the best recording artists of the twentieth century. And now me!  We drove up to Nashville on the 1st.  We visited the Ryman Auditorium and Broadway that afternoon. 

I've never listened to country music nor intend to, but the auditorium is an architectural gem and the musical legacy is an integral part of its history.  People loved this building - you can feel that when you're there.  We also drove out to the new location of the Grand Ole Opry and the boys played in the rain next door at the inevitable shopping complex. 

We stayed the night in another grand old Nashville building - the Union Station hotel.  There were goods trains passing by our window, which the little boys thought was the ultimate amenity.

Tuesday morning it was time for my birthday treat.  The tour starts at the Country Music Hall of  Fame - Andrew was very excited to be there.  (All my US coins are now in that fountain thanks to two little boys)

After the hall of fame galleries and rotunda, everyone piles on a bus to Studio B to see Nashville's most famous recording studio.  And here was the highlight of the trip - the piano. 

Apparently, Elvis loved the piano and wanted to acquire it.  Manager of the studio Chet Atkins, told him, "Elvis, you don't have a enough money to buy that piano."  So here it has remained for six decades of legendary recordings.

J's holidays

There's been no time to write about my adventures with J this summer.  But here are some pictures of me and my little fella.  Though he's not so little these days!

Here he is at the train station in Prague - after 13 hours on the train from Poland!  There was a beautiful German girl who took a liking to him on the Berlin to Dresden leg.  He of course was totally oblivious in that I'm only 12 and haven't discovered Planet Girls yet way.  I didn't say anything to him, just smiled to myself.

    This is what Gdansk looks like.  That dark thing at the end is a 600 year old crane.  It's called the Great Crane.  I don't think they put a lot of thought into that. 



I hated it when my mother made us pose for pictures in front of major landmarks on hot days when we were tired.  Looks like Jonathan feels the same way.  He did cheer up when we got around the corner and he spotted the Museum of Torture.  No don't worry, I managed to talk my way out of it.  He's a little creeped out by dummies.  Instruments of torture are fine, but when I explained that there would be display dummies he was outta there. 



This is the two of us having the time of our lives at the Olympic Park.  Weather was rubbish.  Like we cared!

Every boy loves skipping stones into the sea.  We teamed up - I picked through every pebble on Brighton beach looking for flat ones and he kept trying until he got about seven skips. 

I miss him terribly.

Today Jonathan visited HMS Belfast where he took on the Captain's duties.

His day out in London with Grandpa also included a visit to Francis Drake's ship the Golden Hind (a mere four hundred years older than the Belfast).

Yesterday, the Olympic torch passed along the New Bedford Road at the bottom of our gardens.  Grandpa, Jonathan and I had a front row view of the torch being handed over between torch bearers. We rather enjoyed the whole roadshow that came along with it, though the local Luton police who were escorting the torch appeared to be having the time of their lives.  Well, there aren't many days when it's fun to be a policeman. 

Our days out have been a lot of fun, but more than anything I'm enjoying just spending evenings sat on the sofa next to my little lad. Tonight, he's giving the panellists on QI a run for their money.

J's first week in blighty

After two years of anticipation, I collected Jonathan from Heathrow Airport last Thursday.  After dropping his gear at my flat in London, he got a quick introduction to the exciting world of genealogy with a visit to London Metropolitan Archives - where he helped me find info for a book research project - and a quick stop by Society of Genealogists where I had to drop off an overdue library book (oh, the thrill of it all!).

His real Olympic adventure began Saturday morning with a tour of Lord's cricket ground in St John's Wood.  (no illustrations - his flaky aunt has deleted the photos of him at the ground)  It was the last day of tours before they give up the ground to Locog for its transformation into an Olympic venue (archery). Jonathan enjoyed the tour, though I think the real excitement came from spotting a ferrari whilst walking both to and back from the ground to the Underground station.  (The rest of the weekend I spent tearing up the streets and parked cars of London in a pokey little VW golf - I've almost managed to shift the mother of all headaches that comes from trying to drive in and out of the centre of London multiples times) 

Monday we visited the London Transport Museum.  Jonathan enjoyed driving the underground train simulations.  Auntie G could barely contain her excitement at seeing old train tickets and posters celebrating Metro-Land  - basically seeing several chapters of the book I recently researched come to life. 

After two days of work auntie owed the young visitor a proper day out so we rode the High Speed train from St Pancras to Rochester.  It's a thirty minute journey to Kent via the Eurostar's dedicated high speed rail line.  We sped south at 120 miles per hour and Jonathan loved it.  We climbed the castle keep - the lad was a little nervous about the height but he was very pleased with himself when he made it to the top.

The views across the Medway River were wonderful and he was especially pleased with the rusty Russian submarine marooned in the river bend near the castle. 

The rules

To paraphrase my heroine Elle Woods, the rules of genealogy are simple and finite:

Rule #1 - Speak to living relatives to get their memories of and information about your ancestors

Rule #2 - Go back and speak to them again

Rule #3 - Go harass them some more

And so on...

Never has this simple formula proved truer than with my own father. The question, "What do you remember about your family?" always draws a blank stare. However, every time I bring up his relatives in conversation, all sorts of information starts to leak out of his brain. And it's always something new, followed by, "I'm sure I've told you this before." Then from me, "NO YOU HAVEN'T! How come I didn't know this."

I called today to tell him that my article about the 1940 census (on stands April 19th) will be featuring a few tales of his parents and a cracking photograph of his mother who was quite a beauty. I thought he'd be quite proud I was showing her off and indeed he was. Nice. And then came the story of how his parents met. All out of order from what I had thought and quite suprising. My grandfather was in the US Navy, serving in the Pacific (this I knew). He was the film projector onboard the ship (this I knew). He was electrocuted by faulty wiring while operating the projector and so badly injured he was sent back to the States to recuperate (err, didn't know that). Apparently, he was unable to feed himself (hell of an electric shock) and at the USO she was sent over to feed him. He recovered and went back to his ship and ended up landing in China. After the war, he came back to New York to find her it seems.

I had thought he had just been demobbed in New York at the end of the war and they'd met at like a dance or something. The real story is so much better than that! It's even a little comical - poor grandpa, his hair probably never sat flat on his head again.

So, everyone, interogate your parents regularly. Ring every bit of info out of them, because who knows what else is in there!!!

New digs

I moved house last weekend, to a flat near the common between Balham and Streatham Hill. Built just before WWI, we have the huge ground floor.
There are two gardens, in front and out back which I plan to use as an office when (if/I hope) the weather improves. The two flat mates are great, really friendly, good company, nice boyfriends, you can't ask for more! I shall be subletting for three months until Jonathan arrives. Wow, can't believe its only three months now.

Hold this for me would you...

With all the talk of Jonathan, lest you (dear readers) are led to believe he is my only nephew, here's a picture of another one, from my Christmas visit to Atlanta. This little fella, like Jonathan, also looks more like me than his Mum.

I had dumped my bag in his lap as a joke, "Here Jacob, hold this for me!" Lucy (my sister) told me off, so I tried to take it back but Jacob was having none of it. He clung to it all the way home, and I thought I may have to relinquish possession on a permanent basis.

Home Sweet London Home

This is my lovely little house in south London, Lowden Road, Herne Hill to be precise. My home until the end of the month.

It's been life-transforming being in London proper. No restrictions on travel times, no rush to catch the last not horrendously slow every station stopping train back from the city in the evening. Without peak time travel restrictions, I can be at an archive when the doors open or leave and head home whenever I feel like it. After years of Saudi Arabia, boarding schools and small town universities, being able to come and go when I please is one of the most important things for me and I find restrictions on my movements almost unbearable. Oh how wonderful it is to be free!

So then I'm moving again at the end of the month to another house not far from here. They're splendid digs which will suit me very well until the end of June when Jonathan arrives. We'll have a couple days at my house in London and then we'll retire to the family estate at Luton until he heads home in August. Now that will mean a return to restricted travel but....... anything is worth it to have Jonathan here for the summer!

Update of my genealogy goals

Well folks, I have made absolutely zero progress on my 2012 genealogy goals. HOWEVER, last month I did some work for a genealogy show of which I have long been a massive fan which is an ambition fullfilled.

Also last month I was an exhibitor at Who Do You Think You Are Live, the three-day genealogy fair that kicked off my career two years ago. Last year it was very exciting to come back as an exhibitor for the show (rather than a paying customer and aspiring researcher as the year before). Then I worked quite hard, signing up new subscribers to our magazine and selling back issues and genealogy guides for Pen & Sword books. This year I seemed to spend a bit more time exhibiting myself...I struck up a flirtation with a gorgeous chap repesenting a servicemen's charity at the show. I thought he was in his mid-twenties (he told me he owns a house!) but it turns out (I discovered later) he was only 20! I didn't do so badly. Anyway, he has returned home to Preston, Lancashire, well out of harms way.

So, back to the goals. Jonathan has volunteered to be my young apprentice (eat your heart out Donald Trump!) this summer while he's here. Perhaps I'll put him on the case. Our Olympic tickets are all arranged. Now I just have to get plane/train tickets for Gdansk and Prague (his requests!) and figure out exactly how to keep him entertained. Though really, when Jonathan is around, Auntie Genevieve is the one who is entertained. He is the cleverest, funniest, brightest kid out there. We'll have six glorious weeks together. I can't wait!

2012 genealogy goals

My boss Mr Nick Barratt polled his twitter followers last month on their genealogy goals for the New Year. I posted some short suggestions. Here’s my expanded list for 2012.

1. Bones - A 1903 newspaper clipping reported on how my great-great grandfather recovered a complete mastodon skeleton in Montana and tells us that he was hoarding old bones. “Jack Ducie, the well-known mining man…has a collection of fossiliferous bones at his home which would no doubt be highly prized by institutions of learning…” He died in 1917 and I want to find out which institution got the bones. My 12 year-old nephew wants to be a paleontologist. I would love for him to be able to study Jack’s bones.

2. Babies - Jack was born in England to Irish parents fleeing famine in Mayo, Ireland. There were at least eight children. Our family knew of four who later emigrated and I’ve found another four that didn’t make it through childhood. Were there more? They were Catholics and some years ago I tracked the local records down to an archdiocese archive in Birmingham which is begging for a visit.

3. Bigamist – Another great-great grandfather – English born and bred – legged it to Canada in 1910 with his son-in-law’s sister on his arm. They had a daughter born in Montreal and two grandsons. Auntie May was a bit of a looker – we have an amazing picture of her – but grandpa Arthur remains our mystery man. Could the boys [same age as my parents] in Canada have a picture? Having spent last summer working as a people searcher, it’s time to turn my new skills on my own distant cousins. I hope they’re friendly guys and obsessive hoarders of family memorabilia.

4. Baron – An obit in The Gentleman’s Magazine in 1822 purports that my 4x great-grandfather Charles Baron of Hitchin, Hertfordshire died in his hundredth year. Did the monarch send centenary birthday greetings in the 1820s? Probably no, but there must be more information about this chap and I mean to find it. Also, we don’t know his origins. But there are an awful lot of Barons up north. Could I secretly be one one hundred and second Northern?

Pardon our appearance

Apologies for appearances! I tried to mess around with the html code for my blog recently and completely mucked it up, hence the bizarre formatting. I am trying to fix it, but this isn't exactly my area of expertise and could take a while.

Roommate reunion

I'm playing catch-up and have only just got around to posting some pictures from September. I had a fantastic week mid-September when I hosted an unofficial reunion of some of my New York roommates. Courtnie Checketts (my roommate at 45 Wall Street)was in town for a week after hosting a memorial concert for 9/11 here in London at the St George's Roman Catholic Cathedral in Southwark. We spent six glorious days together! And on the Monday we were joined by Reghan Sybrowsky now Christensen (my roommate in the East Village)and her husband Kristian, who is also one of my favourite pals from my days in the city.

Our gang of four spent the day in Maritime Greenwich, one of London's most interesting neighbourhoods. We took the river taxi from Embankment Pier, about a forty-five minute journey, during which they all graciously endured a full briefing on the history of the waterfront slums of the East End which had featured prominently in an extensive family history I had just written. At Greenwich, we climbed the hill to the Royal Observatory where we took pictures of the Prime Meridien and enjoyed views of the entire city. Back in the lovely Georgian streets below, they found a great fish and chip shop and we enjoyed a very English lunch. The afternoon we spent wandering Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens and just getting caught up on each others news and goings on in New York. I'd also had a bit of a, well let's call it a romantic disappointment, and it was wonderful to have three such good friends to cheer me up and talk me round. I couldn't believe how much better I felt about it all by the end of the day and I've been fine ever since. I wish they could be here all the time!

The next day Reghan and Kristian left for Bath and the West Country and Courtnie and I boarded the Eurostar for an overnight trip to Paris.



This was her first visit to France and we tried to fit in as much as we could. The day ended with us sat on the lawns behind the Tour Eiffel, where Parisians like to congregate and picnic in the evening, and at 9 on the dot the tower played host to a dazzling blue and white light show that reflected Courtnie's feelings - Paris had dazzled her and I was so glad to be there with her.


Thursday morning we said goodbye at St Pancras as she headed to Heathrow. It's been tough to be these past 18 months away from all my friends. We talk on the phone but it's not the same as having friends with you in person. Thanks goodness London is a place everyone likes to visit!

Missing Millions

My first tv show premiers tomorrow. Missing Millions on UK's ITV channel. I helped track down the lady in the first episode and worked on many more of the stories in upcoming episodes. Read about this week's episode.

Ightham

What's better than spending a day out with two of your best friends - especially friends who are so close they are more like family. Friday, I had my first proper day off in a really long time and took Katrina and Becky Robertson to explore a house I've long wanted to visit: Ightham Mote. It's a like a geological strata, bearing layers of architectural and social history stretching back to the 14th century.

Becky will be headed off to university soon, so we're trying to fit in as much as we can now my work crazy time has finished.
You can come stay in this bit.
Next up: me and the whole Robertson gang are headed to The Globe to see Much Ado About Nothing.