Radiators

Today is a truly lovely, classic autumn day, the kind where you look up into the cloudless, blue sky and find it difficult to believe the weather forecasts which speak gloomily of forthcoming rain, wind and plummeting temperatures. Paddy had been taken out for his walk and managed to behave like a sane and sensible dog around three westies and a border collie and the rest of the day...

well, the rest of the day could go well or badly, depending on Keith's diy skills.

For several weeks now, I have amused myself by saying, 

"Well, we'll be putting the heating on soon - oh no! We won't because the radiator by the window is still leaking!"

When the hilarity and helpless laughter has died down, I follow this up with,

"The bathroom towels will be lovely and warm when we have our showers this winter - oh no! They won't because the heated towel rail is still waiting to be fitted!"

(You think this is annoying? Yep! But such fun!)

So today, Keith has finally decided that life might be slightly more bearable if he put his mind to the two tasks awaiting him, hence an imminent visit to B&Q and then a degree of nail biting and finger crossing on my part, not due to a lack of faith in Keith's abilities but, well, you never know with diy...

And today's task is...

Actually, I wouldn't like to say how many hours I have already spent puzzling over this. The marriage certificate for Charles Ernest Perkins and his wife, Frances arrived. However, Sod's Law decreed that the one most important word on the whole document, ie Frances's maiden name, is pretty well undecipherable.

Frances, as you will see from the certificate, was a widow, although, as she was born in 1818, she was only 22 when she married Charles, so Tapscott was her previous married name and her maiden name is shown in the column for father's name. Unfortunately, it looks as though ink was in short supply that day, hence the poor quality of the print out. Either that or that's where I get my bad handwriting from. 

I can see the man was a 'yeoman' and that his first name was John and that his surname ended in 'eland' and I think the first letter is a 'G' as it corresponds pretty closely to the 'G' in 'Gardener' which is down as John's occupation at that time. 

I have trawled through endless lists of Devon names in an attempt to find something close to what is on this certificate, to no avail and I have not found any trace of Frances's first marriage, although, as it presumably took place before the coverage of the free BMD, it would be harder to trace anyway.

So, there we are, a brick wall. Not important in the grand scheme of things but a mystery I really wanted to solve in the hope that it would shed some light on the next step, which will perhaps be a subject for a future post...

Farewell, Jake

So Jake has departed, trotted off this morning with his little red spotted handkerchief over his shoulder, without a backward glance. If Paddy is missing their regular afternoon wrestling sessions, he is giving no sign of it and is mooching around very much as normal. I have to say, walking Jake was a much more peaceful experience than walking Paddy. He actually behaved like a normal, sane dog; no barking at other dogs across the field, no trying to lunge at cats, squirrels, rabbits... you get the idea?

On the plus side, no nasty little 'surprises' on the dining room floor first thing in the morning either!

A visitor

Yes, folks, it's me, Paddy and my pal Jake is visiting for a few days. 

On Wednesday night, I slept upstairs on the landing, as usual and Jake slept downstairs in his own bed, as he has before. Sometime during the night, I heard him moving around, so I went down to see what was going on. Would you believe it, he'd only had, not one, but several little 'accidents' around the dining room!

"Oh boy!" I said, "You're on your own with this one, pal!"

And I crept back upstairs back to my own bed. No-one's going to put this one on me!

Finishing things

Just got this from TK this morning but really, it could have been written by Keith! Chocolates, cheesecake, Pringles - yes definitely some of his favourite things!

Here’s a solution for so many things.  I am passing this on to you because most likely, we would welcome a bit more inner peace in our lives!

A doctor on TV this morning said the way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the  things you have started.  I looked around my house to see things I'd started and hadn't finished.

I have managed to finish off a bottle of Merlot, a bottle of Chardonnay, a bodle of Baileys, a butle of wum, a pockage of Prungles, tha mainder of bot Prozic and  Valiuminun scriptins, the res of the chesescke an a box a chocletz.

Yu haf no idr how bludy fablus I feel rite now.  Plaese sned dhis orn to dem yu fee ar in ned ov iennr pisss.

Out with the grumps

This morning is grey and overcast and now starting to rain, but Paddy and I were out on our walk before that. I will be charitable and assume that the change in the weather has been responsible for the dourness of most people we met this morning. Out of nine people or pairs of people, almost all walking their dogs, just like me, a mere three returned my 'Good morning.' 

Several totally ignored me, one, whom I passed twice, just glared at me, but the last was the best. A young woman came out of a field onto the lane just ahead of me with a large, docile dog, who took no notice of Paddy, nor, surprisingly, Paddy of him. As she glanced at me blankly and then turned to go up the lane, three feet ahead, I said,

"Well, it's not often Paddy doesn't react at all to other dogs."

To which the woman replied....

Nothing, nowt, nada, zilch and continued on her way, leaving me wondering, not for the first time this morning, why I bother.

I'm not a sad, lonely person desperate to get someone, anyone talking to me, but having lived for years on the outskirts of cities, where it was the norm to ignore anyone you passed, I've got to like the way that, round here, it's customary to pass the time of day.It costs nothing and it's good for us.

Today, I must have been out with all the grumps.

The marriage

So here it is at last, Charles Ernest's marriage certificate and I can see from it that the John Perkins whose family I have been researching lately is indeed the correct one. Trust me, I am on familiar, first name, neighbourly chatting terms with pretty well every John Perkins who has walked this land over the last two hundred years! Next step will be the arrival in about a week of John Perkins' marriage certificate. From the free BMD (births, marriages, deaths) Index, I have narrowed his wife's maiden name down to two possibilities, neither of which put her into 'baronet's daughter' category but, never mind, it's all good fun and quite fascinating.

(I wonder if BBC's 'Heir Hunters' programme would give me a job?