Comments on: The other side of the tracks

By: Hephzi

Hephzi — Sun, 12 Apr 2020 17:30:52 +0000

Another great blog, Jo. I love your opening, “Sarah is 80” – dropping us right in the middle of a story. Who is Sarah? What are you talking about? – and then you go on to explain it all. I note the very poignant second sentence saying your mum “was good with small children not her own”. There is a whole story behind that of her relationship with you and yours with her. It would be so easy to trip lightly over it to the main story – but it drew me back at the end.

The whole adventure of family history delving is fascinating. I’ve had almost nothing to do with my known cousins since childhood – in fact I’ve had much more to do and feel more in common with a cousin who is no blood relation at all, as he was adopted. Through online research I was introduced to a distant cousin with whom I didn’t have much in common at all – apart from family history hunting – but was introduced to a family story line quite different from my own, and given some photos showing tantalising family resemblances.

What wonderful photos – do you know who all the people are? When my mum died I found a photo album in the back of her wardrobe which I had never seen before. She must have grabbed it when her mother died. Fortunately I recognise some of the people in the photos, but by no means all. We really should annotate our own photo albums for our children!

By: Ann

Ann — Tue, 24 Mar 2020 10:25:33 +0000

In reply to Lyn. Just to add: How fascinating to look at the ramifications of class and status for Lyn as well, and how your father, like my grandfather and Chile, escaped his destiny by migration. I loved the idea of the Mumbles as Manderley for Daisy, a place of dreams away from the drudgery.

By: Ann

Ann — Tue, 24 Mar 2020 10:16:32 +0000

Another great post. I loved the idea of the Mumbles and ‘pining for a return to those Welsh breasts’ and what knickers! Hilarious. I remember baggy school knickers for doing gym but you could have made 4 pairs out of those white ones. I do remember paddling with my dress tucked into my knickers but as the person on the left…we would never have been allowed to show them to the world- what a travesty that would have been.
I am so glad you have discovered more about the religious history and that not all the family were blighted/blessed with the same fervour. What a treat to find your cousin and fill in more of the puzzle. Like the others, I look forward to the next bulletin – great hook to draw us into wanting more….how did she react to those letters? Poor woman.

By: Monique

Monique — Wed, 04 Mar 2020 12:42:00 +0000

Another intriguing post, Jo. I especially loved the humour. Comparing Mumbles to Manderley made me laugh out loud. But on a more serious note, as other respondents have noted, it’s the way that lives are shaped by choices and societal forces like religious belief that is striking. It begs a lot of questions too, especially the ending. I look forward to more…

By: Diana

Diana — Wed, 04 Mar 2020 12:01:58 +0000

Such ramifications of who is better than who! And whether marriage helps you up or forces you down. And how the war affected family life. And what is the place or time that represents ‘happiness’. This is so full of the things that shape our lives and send us off in one direction or another.

By: Carrie Dunne

Carrie Dunne — Wed, 04 Mar 2020 10:00:07 +0000

I loved reading this, Jo. You’ve created not just a nostalgic view of your relatives but also about choices and consequences. I do wonder about your Mum’s thoughts as she opened another happy letter from Sarah!

By: Lyn

Lyn — Tue, 03 Mar 2020 19:39:16 +0000

This is so telling about the nuances of class and class mobility in England before the 60s. I wonder if Wales also offered an escape from those class identities. I am intrigued that your father was a master butcher. My father was also destined to become one and take over his father’s butcher’s shop in Scotland, where it still bear’s my grandfather’s name. .But after the war my father rebelled and fled first to hong Kong and then Australia. According to my mother, my father changed his name at her mothers insistence because she did not want her daughter married to somebody in trade, especially the butchers trade. However, some letters from my father suggests that this may not be the whole story. I do remember Getting very cross with my grandmother not long after my father died, because she lamented the fact that her daughter had married a lame duck, As she put it.