Make a Bed for Byron? Yes? No?

Listen! Can you hear that crashing sound? Yes, that’s the sound of yet another New Year’s Resolution demolished! As my intention was to have shared some news with you dear reader at least once a month, this is my February post even though even though we are now enjoying the third day of March. However, as the rest of the calendar year consists of eleven months of at least 30 days; this would be day thirty if it were any other month other than February. Not that I have anything against February for not only was I hatched and matched in this month, but I also met my ‘other half’ on the 29th and lest we forget, it is the month for a profusion of chocolates, expensive red roses and some very dubious love tokens as Cupid’s Arrow flies forth...

Happiest Day of My Life? It REALLY Was!

With an arm firmly around the waist of her adoring husband and as she gazes up at his handsome face; Nicole talks about the ‘happiest day of my life’ to the videographer on the eve of her wedding day and perhaps if history had taken her and her spouse along a different path; February 2 2018 could have been the 33rd year of her union to one Orenthal James Simpson. Alas, their union as man and wife lasted a mere seven years and all that remains to us of that fateful day in 1985 are the poignant images of the happy couple and that unanswered question; ‘How could it have all gone so terribly wrong?’

Desperately Seeking Clarice!

Many years ago as my Grandmother would regale me with the tales of the elegant Dalby family from York and the Tibbett clan living, loving and squabbling within their adoptive land of Scarborough in North Yorkshire; I recall that it was at the first mention of the story about ‘Poor Clarice’ that my interest was really piqued. For as every family history sleuth knows, there is usually always at least one ancestor that ignites curiosity and which leads to an irresistible urge to discover more about a life that somehow holds a peculiar affinity for you and it was hearing of the story of ‘Poor Clarice’ that 'did it' for me so to speak and I've been desperately seeking her through the mists of time ever since...

Those Gnarled Branches and Fallen Leaves…

“You may choose to look the other way, but you can never say again that you did not know.” So said William Wilberforce, a Yorkshire lad and THE leader of the movement to abolish the slave trade. If you are like me and love to go in search of elusive ancestors throughout the vale and dale of the County of Yorkshire; this blog could be just what you are looking for as I follow in the footsteps of my North Riding family, and as there are plenty of them, I have many miles to travel!

In Hearts at Peace and Under an Scarboro’ Heaven….

Clarice Tibbett, Born on a Tuesday, Baptised on a Tuesday, Married on a Tuesday, Took ill one Saturday, Died that Tuesday, Inquest held on the Thursday, Cremated on the Friday, That was the end, Of Clarice Tibbett. In case you haven’t recognised it, I have corrupted the ballad of poor old Solomon Grundy written by …

Continue reading In Hearts at Peace and Under an Scarboro’ Heaven….

However You Want To M*a*s*h It Up, Suicide Is NOT Painless!

Who among us has never sung, wailed, hummed or screamed at some time or another to a song written by a fifteen year old hormonal teenager and which would become the soundtrack to the film M*A*S*H? For it was on Tuesday June 19, a cloudy day in 1962 that the loved ones of Clarice Tibbett would experience the heartbreak of knowing that suicide is not painless with the awful news of her death and by her own doing at the age of 48...

Clarice, You ARE Late, Late for a VERY Important Date!

Although I don’t usually enjoy receiving brown envelopes through the post, I will make an exception when one arrives from the General Records Office or the GRO as it known here in the UK. However, nothing quite compares to the sight of an original certificate and when you discover that the said certificate was once the faithfully kept property of the ancestor who has long captured your interest, well, let’s just say that my delight knows no bounds...