Yesterday I decided to clean my emails out because it’s that time of the year where you think, “Hmm, several thousand emails…. I should do something about that.” So I embraced Hotmail’s sweep function which does NOTHING about 1000 times.
And I decided to read a few of my more recent ones. Including one from Ancestry which said we had waiting hints – which we would, because we haven’t really looked at it for a few months.
Carole’s family tree has about 1600 hints outstanding. My family tree is coming in with 1200 outstanding hints.
I just thought I’d log in and have a click about for a few minutes.
I was on it all day.
And have set up a second monitor so I can view the records on one side and amend the trees on the other. Because apparently I’m a massive nerd.
All day, though.
And then at about 3pm I hit upon some of Carole’s stuff – a great, great, great grandparent (and adjacent people) on her mum’s side. And I found a grave notice. And with a bit of a search I found the church, the grave site, number, location and occupants.
By 4pm we were in a car driving to it.
It was, of the number of graveyard trips we have taken, the most successful. Mainly because, thanks to the lovely people at the church who have taken the time to put the details and maps online, it was a fricking doddle to find exactly where we wanted to be – as opposed to, say, the grave in Mirfield for which there is no headstone but we have stood in the location of (and that took us several trips to find) or the one where we spent nearly a whole day going from grave to grave because we’d not looked up the details before we left and I tried to call on the spirits to encourage a squirrel to show me where to look.
The squirrel did not show me where to look.
The grave didn’t hold as many people – according to the stone – as the records would have suggested (which made sense, because one of them died in Torquay and, presumably, was moved when his spouse died).
But we found it, and we tromped round a graveyard for a bit and looked at the grave of three people who drowned in 1852 when a reservoir burst.
And we went on weird roads through nice places.
And Carole’s already started asking about another gravesite that we have not yet located…
Best get back to it…