So disappointed!

Having waiting patiently for three whole weeks for the birth certificate of my great grandfather, Charles Ernest Perkins, I got an email yesterday afternoon telling me that they couldn't find one. So that would be why I didn't get anything in the post yesterday then.! So then I went into total disbelief mode and spent half an hour searching through the Free Index of births in an effort to prove them wrong, which I didn't, of course.
Next step was to order his marriage certificate, which should have the name of his father, who is the person I am really trying to track down.
Charles Ernest married a lady from Portland, called Rebecca Sansom Lowman and I know exactly where and when they married, so tracking down the certificate will not take as long this time. However, if his father really did run off with a baronet's daughter, it is quite likely that they didn't actually marry, so I could be up against a brick wall once again.
Well, it keeps me out of mischief, I guess!

An autumn walk

Today being sunny and promising to stay that way for a couple of hours, I decided Paddy and I should put our best foot (paws) forward and high-tail it up to Coedpoeth, a round trip of about five miles. 

'Up' to Coedpoeth is an accurate description of the walk and walking along the narrow pavement beside the high street once we get there is no picnic with Paddy in tow, but we still enjoyed it, although on the way back, Paddy did turn to me with an expression that said, "We have to walk all the way back? YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS, MAN!"

"Don't worry," I told him, "It's downhill on the way back."

Back home, he is lying there like a coiled spring, ready for action...

Charles Ernest Perkins

This was my paternal great grandfather, an army man and probably the source of many of Hugh's 'awkward' genes and commitment to an army career. Legend has it  in our family, that his father, a humble artisan, stole the heart of the daughter of a baronet, who then ran away with him and was disowned by her family. If she had married someone more acceptable, maybe we would now be living in a big house in London with lots of money, but who knows?

There is a fairly strong chance, however, that this legend is just that, a legend and somewhat lacking in concrete evidence, as during my recent forays into family history, I haven't been able to uncover any reliable clues that this event really happened. So I ordered a copy of C.E. Perkins' birth certificate, three weeks ago from the General Register Office and sat back to wait.
On the site, it says that certificates, unless ordered more expensively for quick delivery, will take three weeks to arrive. Being of an ever-optimistic disposition, I hoped they would be having a quiet period and it would arrive early, but no. I can just imagine them sitting there at their desks, checking their watches and calendars and saying, "Two more days to go before we can send that Perkins one, Alf. Don't you go sending it early, lad. We don't want to be setting prcedents!"
So, my confirmation email informed me that the certificate would be dispatched today, which means that I will get it on Thursday at the earliest. Not exactly Amazon, is it? But I am hoping it will be worth the wait and we will find out the names of C.E. Perkins' parents. Watch this space...

Little England??

I am just watching Little England on ITV1, simply because it's on, I've had a busy and not altogether satisfactory day and haven't got the energy to do anything else, but try as I might, I just can't see the point of emigrating to another country to immerse oneself in British culture, surrounded by many other fellow Brits. If anyone thinks they can, I am waiting to be enlightened!

Brambles!

Today, I have mainly been battling with brambles in this garden. And I have the scars to prove it!

Banned from Sainsbury's. Didn't like shopping there anyway.

No, this is not one of my supermarket rants, but another offering from TK!

Yesterday I was at my local Sainsbury's store buying a large bag of Winalot dog food for my loyal pet and was in the checkout queue when a woman behind me asked if I had a dog.

What did she think I had an elephant? So, since I'm retired and have little to do, on impulse I told her that no, I didn't have a dog, I was starting the Winalot Diet again. I added that I probably shouldn’t, because I ended up in hospital last time, but I'd lost 2 stone before I woke up in intensive care with tubes coming out of most of my orifices and IVs in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and that the way that it works is to load your pockets with Winalot nuggets and simply eat one or two every time you feel hungry. The food is nutritionally complete so it works well and I was going to try it again. (I have to mention here that practically everyone in queue was now enthralled with my story.)

Horrified, she asked me if I ended up in intensive care because the dog food poisoned me I told her no, I stepped off the kerb to sniff an Irish Setter's arse and a car hit me.

I thought the guy behind her was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard. I'm now banned from Sainsbury's.

Better watch what you ask retired people.

They have all the time in the world to think of daft things to say.

Cat meets dog

On our way back from our walk this morning, we came up from the valley and found, as we usually do in that spot, Ginger Cat, who is almost always to be found under the bushes by the path. Today, Paddy spotted her from a few feet away and began to get excited and pull on the lead. The rest is as follows:

• Ginger Cat pretends not to have any inkling that there is a dog on the horizon and stretches luxuriously.
• Paddy attempts to lunge forward.
• Ginger Cat turns her back and sits on the grass.
• Paddy attempts to lunge forward.
• We are now drawing level with the cat and I have to drag Paddy over to the side of the path as Ginger Cat certainly ain't gonna move.
• Ginger Cat finally recognises Paddy's existence, draws herself up and arches her back. Disapproval  is oozing from every pore.
• By now, I am using every muscle to drag Paddy past the wretched cat and on our way.
• A few yards from home and Paddy is finally distracted, this time by a teenage squirrel taunting him from the top of a fence.
• More dragging...