Feet Up; Time to Think

Last week I shared the story of my great great grandmother, Mary Kennon. She appears aged one month in a Carsethorn house with probably her mother, Jean and older brother, James. However, the most interesting character is the 50 year old English woman, Agnes Grivie born supposedly in 1791. She was married to an Irish handloom linen weaver named Henry. They were living in a very busy Scottish port at a time of mass emigration close to both England and Ireland. How were this couple related to Mary? There are some tantalising clues: the 1851 census, my great grandmother's birth registration and a headstone. In 1851, Agnes was still living in Carsethorn. She was a widow and her birthdate was then recorded as 1785. This time Agnes had an occupation - she was a sick nurse to an older woman, also a widow. Living in the same house was Mary, a boarder and scholar, then aged 9 years. Agnes, it appears, was looking after Mary but there is no sign in the census of her mother. The next clue

Under Scottish naming traditions, I am named after my dinner guest, Mary Kennon, my grandmother Mary's grandmother. I've always known of Mary Kennon, but I know very little about her. Firstly the menu - we'd probably have Solway Firth shrimps and flounder as Mary would have caught and eaten these as a girl.  Mary Kennon was born at Carsethorn, Kirkbean on the shores of the Solway Firth in Scotland a month before the first official United Kingdom census, where she is registered with who appear to be her mother, Jean, a brother, James aged two, and an older couple. My first question would be to ask her about her mother, Jane. There is no father present, but that does not surprise me. Kirkbean today is a sleepy little village and Carsethorn is even quieter, but that belies its history as a bustling port. In fact, John Paul Jones, the famous United States naval commander was born close by and Mary is buried in the same graveyard as his father. In 1850 alone, 10,000 people

I've often wondered how it is that some people have such long lives. Is it merely genetics or do other factors come into play? Grandad Mike came into my life when I was nine or ten. You may think that is quite odd, but in fact he was my only grandfather. My mother's father died when I was a baby; my father's father lived on the other side of the world so I never really knew him. But Grandad Mike chose us by marrying my grandmother who had been widowed quite young. Michael Patrick O'Neill was born in County Waterford, Ireland, although we didn't know he was born in 1921 for many years. He came from a poor family whom I assume subsisted on a tiny piece of land. He had an elder brother, Jack, who never married and stayed on the land. Another brother, Tom, moved to England and his sister, Sister Mary, became a nun. There were few opportunities and Michael emigrated, working in Australia and on Nauru Island, before coming to New Zealand. His field was civil const

A photograph may well be the reason for my existence. In 1948, recently returned from post-war Germany, my dad was looking for a job. The opportunities in South West Scotland for a qualified mechanic who had serviced tanks up through Europe were limited, if non-existent. Around the same time, my mother had finally found her feet in Trentham, near Wellington, New Zealand after an unsettled couple of years. She had a stable job, but more importantly secure accommodation by joining the NZ Women's Royal Army Corps in 1946. Around this time, the New Zealand Government resolved to form a permanent, peacetime army. In the United Kingdom, there were thousands of suitable young men with the right qualifications and war experience who would be ideal instructors, looking for a new life away from rationing and unemployment. What was needed was a recruitment brochure. And as you know, what better way to attract young men, than a picture of a young woman! My mother just happened to be in