There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in. ~Graham Greene

I have been working on a project, it is a rather belated project now because it should have been completed in time for my son's 18th birthday on 20th of December, but I was feeling so poorly that time got the better of me. I am creating a photo scrapbook for my son with photos and memories from my son's childhood. 

I spent ages choosing photos, the hardest part was deciding what not to include. Then when they were printed I had so much trimming and cutting out to do that my fingers ached for days afterwards. Now I am busy arranging the photos and creating the scrapbook - it takes ages to get it looking just right, but he is worth the effort. 

As I look at all the photos I can't help wondering where all the years have gone. How did that angelic looking little chap grow up so fast, it only seems like a few years ago that he played a shepherd in the nativity play at nursery and he walked in swinging his lamb around by the tail!

Here is an extract from my diary dated March 2004 when my son was nine, as you can see life with him has never been dull.

"As we were coming back from Music School at lunchtime my son said "I have my usual maths and English homework, but there is something else this week; I have to catch a worm because Monday is take a worm to school day" 
He went on to explain that they are making a wormery. Surely my life is complicated enough without having to go out and dig for worms! I urged him to wait until Sunday afternoon before collecting his worm, but being a boy he just couldn't wait and when I was working in the kitchen he brought in a large worm and put it into my hand. I was prevailed upon to provide a suitable container for it, and over the next hour or so I was introduced to five or six more worms in assorted sizes. 

At teatime all my efforts to change the subject were
thwarted and we were treated to a lecture from my son on the reproductive habits of the earthworm. His understanding of the term hermaphrodite was rather sketchy, and my memories of `O' Level Biology were too limited to be useful. Sam concluded in his deep and serious voice (which always makes me want to laugh) "I think it really means that they don't enjoy themselves very much!"

We had a bit of a disagreement at bedtime when I realised that the little terror had taken the worms to bed with him. When I refused to allow him to have them on his bedside table. He said "mum, you can't put them outside, they are part of the family now" We compromised and they are spending the night in the shed (in their container). I must remember to thank his teachers for completely disrupting our weekend."

My son has always loved animals, so our pets all have a place in the scrapbook. I thought I had got all the photos for the album but Dave the cat had other ideas, I think he wants to make sure that he will be included. He posed for this photo (he is wearing my son's hat) and it is so cute that I have to include it.

If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.  ~Tom Stoppard

If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts - Albert Einstein

If you asked Robbie he would tell you that I am pretty good at spotting clues and gathering evidence, as he has found to his cost in the past - I don't miss much! Unfortunately the detective work that I am engaged in at the moment is even more difficult than keeping tabs on Robbie, because the clues are old and there is no one left who can tell me if my conclusions are correct. It is like trying to complete a jigsaw when most of the pieces are missing. That is the 'joy' of family history research, reaching out to grasp detail that you know is there but it is tantalisingly out of reach.


Over the last few days I have been making renewed efforts to identify the people in my grandmothers photo album. There are lots of photos of my dad, poor chap, I thought I'd had some dodgy outfits in my time but you should see what my grandma dressed him in! I also recognise my grandfather, my grandma and some of her siblings but most of the other people are strangers to me. I don't know if I should be grateful to my grandma for preserving the photos or infuriated that she didn't label any of them. Even the few that have writing on the back have proved challenging. I was overjoyed when I eased a photo of a family group out of the album and found that it had writing on the back, but my pleasure was short lived. The writing wished my grandmother a happy Christmas wit love from "us all". There should be a law against such things, if I had my way people would be compelled to write first names and surnames on the back of each photo!

My advice to others is not to jump to conclusions and to ask lots of questions, however foolish they sound, because that will give you more chance of getting to the truth. Thanks to the good people on the Roots Chat forum I now know more about my great uncle Frank Buswell. He died in World War 1 and his obituary described him as 'Driver Frank Buswell of the Royal Field Artillary'. To me a driver is a person who sits in a vehicle behind a steering wheel so I wondered why his uniform included spurs and a riding crop. I assumed that it must be some sort of tradition, but today I plucked up the courage to ask why. One of the Roots Chat members patiently explained that As a driver he would have rode/Controlled teams of horses that pulled the guns and equipment of the Royal Field Artillery so he would have worn spurs etc. Another mystery solved and in the process I have gained a more accurate picture of his military service. 


When it comes to family history, finding answers is only part of the problem, the most difficult thing is finding the questions. There are things we do not know we don't know!