Chez Charles Perkins Sgt.

The middle house in this photo is where my grandmother was born in 1886  and was the home, for a few years, of her parents, Charles Perkins, stationed at the time at Mold Barracks, his wife, Rebecca and their sons. This is Brook Street. Mold, where I went this morning to have a look for myself. Much of the town, of course would now be unrecognisable to them and even the houses round the corner would not have been built at the time they were living there.

By 1907, Charles had retired from the army and the family was settled in Crewe, Cheshire. But that's the next chapter of the story.

Lento

Sent to me today by a friend. A bit long, but worth listening to the end.

A Mother's Story: In the genes

A Mother's Story: In the genes

Perkins again

Further pieces of the jigsaw that is the mystery of Charles Ernest (Frederick) Perkins have been unveiled. After finding evidence of his baptism, under the name of Charles Frederick, I searched again, and again in vain, for the registration of his birth but, although I have searched under every combination of the three names, I have found nothing, which is all the more mysterious as his brothers and sisters were all registered.

During my searching, however, I discovered that his father John, had apparently emigrated to Kansas, USA, followed later by his wife and youngest daughter, Ellen, aka Nellie. I already knew that, in the 1871 census, Frances Perkins and Ellen were living with Frances's son, Frank in Kent, so some time between then and 1880, the two of them decamped to Kansas to join John. By then John and Frances were in their fifties, so it seems a big step for them to take at that stage of their lives.

Some of this information has been further supported by Charles' army papers, which Dad recently found again. 

So, some of the mystery is solved but many questions still remain and probably will never be answered.

Why did Charles appear to change his middle name, which is Frederick on his baptism certificate, Ernest on his death certificate and doesn't appear at all on his marriage certificate or in his army papers?

Why does there appear to be no record of his birth?

Why did John and Frances decide to emigrate to America in their fifties?

Why did Charles fall out with most of his family, including, it seems, his parents? I have first hand information from Dad that he did and this seems to be backed up by the entry for 'parents' address' in his army book, where, having crossed out the earlier address at some time, he has replaced it with a box number in USA.

Maybe we need the services of a medium!

Out walking

After the miserable weather we had yesterday, when the clouds were hitting the ground and the rain was only a fingertip away, today is bright and sunny, so Paddy and I made the most of it and set off for our walk.  Off we went, up this road, along that one and round the corner  and we found ourselves here...

The little road we walked up was called Colliery Road, so I guess the clue is in the name.

This is what it looked like inside.

That's what I like about living here, you turn a corner and there you are in somewhere you have never been before. 

Five a day

The time had come for another 'Big Tidy Up of NASA' which generally happens every few weeks when I can't bear to look at the mess on Keith's computer desk any longer. This time it was resembling an extension of the shed, as usual so I delivered my ultimatum, along the lines of,

"If that stuff isn't moved by you by the end of tomorrow, it will be moved by me, to the bin."

And so it happened. Keith duly tidied up and displayed the results of his labours as soon as I came in.

"Look!" he said, "and I've even got one of my five a day!"

Evening of misery

Well, that's what it was for Paddy and, therefore, for us too. I hate this time of year more and more as the years go past. First we have Hallowe'en, with all its commercial exploitation and legalised begging - yes, I know that's a bit strong but that's how I feel! - and then of course, the fireworks, which are not restricted to one evening, which would be bearable, just. No, we have to have rehearsals every evening for about two weeks beforehand and, should you have thought, in your innocence, that the current financial situation would mean that people would choose not to waste their scarce resources in buying a load of explosives, you would have been sadly disappointed. Round here, it was like Beirut on a bad night and some idiot was even setting off bangers at lunch-time.

A convenient desert island not being available, I decided to try the medication route - for Paddy, not us. We just stuck to the wine. So, I bought some tablets for him and he started on them on Friday. Would you believe, it, I could swear they made him even worse! Keith and I sat with him all evening, unable to move, because if we did, he would launch himself at the window every time he heard a firework, and bearing in mind that dogs' hearing is more acute that humans', that was often.

By ten o'clock, we'd had enough and went to bed, as it seemed to be getting quieter, but no, that was when the second round started and carried on till nearly midnight, by which time, I was dangerously close to running out into the road in my dressing gown, finding the idiots responsible and shoving their fireworks in some very painful places.

Over-reacting? Moi?

This morning, the weather is beautiful and Paddy and I have been for a calm, peaceful, chilled-out walk ...

ready for the next lot tonight!