I had started researching our family's history about four years ago - mainly during the Christmas breaks, when we were still at work, but not open for business, if that makes sense. Hot summer days, spent in the cool of the school room, getting lost in another (older) world, far away. England. My homeland, the place where I was born-ded.
The social and domestic history pulls me, entrances me, each time I venture into it's world. The number of birth and death certificates I've ordered from the National Archives, hopeful that they would be gold dust to my thirst for familial knowledge. So many times, they proved to be dead ends. Today, though, when I could have spent time in the unending quest for an orderly business administration centre, I discovered the 1911 Census. And that, mi ducks, was the end of that.
"Hi Ho, hi ho, it's off to the Archives, I go..." tra la la