My Breakthrough Moment - 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks.

DISCOVERING MY “ENGLISH“ ANCESTORS

 “How far back have you got?" is a standard question for family historians, and I am sorry to admit that the search for the early life of  my maternal grandmother Alice English (1883-1945) remained a puzzle over many decades and quickly hit the proverbial brick wall.   Read on my  research tale.

THE BACKGROUND Alice married my grandfather William Danson of Poulton le Fylde, Lancashire in 1907 .  I had her marriage and death certificate with her age, so born   

 Alice died when I was a baby, and my mother and aunt were surprisingly reticent about her early life.  I failed to ask the right questions at the right time, sensed a great reluctance to talk about her and I ended up with vague and conflicting information – was she born in Manchester, Bolton or Liverpool?   - a classic family history mistake!  It did occur to me that she might w,  deceased)   was given on her marriage certificate.  Was this a fabrication for the purposes of respectability? 

Whatever the mystery about Alice's  past, the impression I gained from my Danson relatives was of a loving, loved wife and mother, and a respected member of the Poulton community. She became known locally as an unofficial midwife and her doctor wanted her to train professionally, but this was not possible.

Despite many years of hunting and using a professional researcher, I had been unable to trace a birth certificate for Alice to find out the name of her mother.  Queries on message boards, Facebook pages, and on my family history blog failed to elicit any positive response, and DNA provided no help.

Below  is one of the few photographs of Alice.  As she is wearing a corsage, could this have been taken on her wedding day?  A question I should have asked my mother, but didn't.

WHAT WERE THE FACTS?

• My starting point for research was the marriage certificate, held by the family.  - Alice married my grandfather William Danson in April 1907, at St. Chad's Church, Poulton-le-Fylde, Lancashire,   when Alice was 22 i.e. born around  1884. Her father's name was given as Henry, a painter (deceased).
   
•  I was always told Alice and I  shared the same birthday - September 23rd. 
• The family story was that Alice  had moved to Poulton as a nursemaid to the Potts family - prominent Methodists whose photographs featured in books on old Poulton, attending civic functions,  opening  fetes etc.
  
• Alice was confirmed at St. Chad's Church, Poulton in 1904 - I   have the prayer book presented to her on that occasion.
  
  
  
• Early census returns proved no help - I could  not trace her in 1891. In 1901  there was an Alice A. English, born Bolton aged 17, so born c.1884,  a living-in domesticiI had had to wait patiently for the release of the 1911 census to  find her entry  under her married name of Danson, with  her birthplace given as Bolton. Yet even that did not take me further forward as the GRO  (General Register Office)  and Bolton Registrar had no record of an Alice English with the details I had.  The release of the 1921 census confirmed the Bolton  birthplace. 
• The 1939 Register compiled to  facilitate  the issue of ID cards and ration cards in the Second  World War confirmed Alice’s birthdate as 23^rd September 1884.  I had hoped for more details on her birthplace but these did not feature.  
   
• Alice  died  5th July 1945,  so I never knew her.   Her age of 60  on the  death certificate again confirmed her year of birth as c. 1884. 

 

FURTHER SEARCHES

 The Improved search facility for BMD and parochial records online  came up with a number of possibilities but none that tied in with my limited information. So more frustration!    I also have had no luck in tracing  a record for her father Henry English with very little to go on.  

I placed many queries on various websites  and message boards without  much success, though Lancashire Genealogy on Facebook gave me some useful pointers;  as did Curious Fox  the village by village contact site for anyone researching UK  family history.  The immediate response was gratifying in number, but not particularly helpful,  apart from one respondent who took on board my query with great enthusiasm and pointed me in certain directions   But these avenues came to nothing.

THE DISCOVERY   

In 2024 I put a query on The Facebook page of FindMyPast Family History Forum  - and SUCCESS when a contributor asked if I had seen the entry for an Alice English born in the Liverpool Board of Guardians Workhouse   in 1883, with the crucial fact her birthday was the same as mine – 23^rd September.  Even better I was given the links to the workhouse records at Liverpool Archives, available on Find My Past.   This surely  was “my” Alice?  So I took out a monthly subscription to FMP to access these records.   The images of the entries were  poor  and I contacted Liverpool Archives who were very helpful with transcriptions.

 Alice’s mother, Alice Ann, a pregnant single woman, aged 30, born Beverley, Yorkshire  was admitted  to the Workhouse from 25 Sun Street, Liverpool on  13^th September 1883 and gave birth to her daughter Alice on September 23^rd,   baptised there into the Church of England the following day.

I obtained Alice’s birth certificate in a digital format from the GRO. (General Register Office)  It indicated that  her mother could only make her mark. The column for her father’s name was blank. 

 Mother and baby were discharged from the Workhouse 29^th December 1883   but,  unhelpfully, without any comment   indicating where they had been discharged to. 

Young Alice  was re-admitted  on 11^th September 1890 with “May (8 months)”, but discharged the same day with the nearest relative noted as Kent Street.   On 18^th September their mother Alice Ann was readmitted and discharged the next day, with the nearest relative noted as Alma Street. 

There is no indication about the reasons for 7 year old Alice’s readmission but under the section ‘By whose order admitted’ .  it appears to say ”Police Book”   -  a worrying statement.I had heard  that children who were begging on the street could picked up by the police and removed to the workhouse.  

It was frustrating to see that under the heading “Nearest Relative” , the answer in all the cases was not a person’s  name or a relation  but a street  name.  I have tried to find out a bit more about Sun Street,  Kent Street and Alma Street  and gather they were in the Dockland areanear the Royal Albert Dock.  Can I assume this was a crowded, poor housing area? 

Why had I failed  for so long to find Alice’s birth and the name of her mother?

·  I had always worked on the basis that Alice  was born around 1884, given her age at marriage  and death which occurred before her September birthday of that year.  Though surely in my searches I had  worked on the basis of a wider range for my searches?   

O Once I had  what I thought was confirmation of her birthplace as Bolton. I used this detail in all my searches and online queries and discounted further suggestions of Manchester and Liverpool – a big mistake!    

I II doubt if, in many queries  I had used the fact that  we shared the same birthday  - a fact which proved crucial in finding Alice. 

But lots  of questions remained and created further brick walls.  

• Why did Alice give the Bolton birthplace name on official records?  What was her connection with Bolton?   (Later  research into her mother's life answered this question).
  
  
•  What were the circumstances that brought 7 year old Alice back to the Workhouse in 1890 with a reference to the police? Liverpool Archives were unable to give any help on this point.
   
• Was 8 month old baby May her sister, admitted to the Workhouse with Alice in 1890,  born around January 1890.  A birth record has not yet been traced. 
   
• Alice could not be traced  in the 1891 census, but an Alice Ann English (her mother) born Beverley, Yorkshire  was  traced to Eden’ Orphanage. Higher End, Sharples, Bolton, where she was working as a domestic servant.  So here was the Bolton connection. But with no sign of her daughter  young Alice.   

The good news is I found some shared matched with Alice's mother  on my DNA results to confirm I was on the  right tracks beyond the coincidence of our birthdays. The story  of my great grandmother  is  for another  blog post.

So the story of Alice English  and her mother is still ongoing.  But it  was a Special Occasion,  when I  got some answers to my long search for my grandmother.

 

My grandparents William and Alice in 1916 

 

PATIENCE AND PERSEVERANCE PAID OFF!

 

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Misty Scenes - Sepia Saturday

 This week's prompt photograph from Sepia Saturday  shows a vintage car on  the road with a misty background of hills in the distance.  I have featured cars in my collection  quite recently, so here my focus was first on "High in the Misty Highlands" - a line  from the song "Scotland the Brave" . 

 

 

My cousin's first ever car - a 1932 Morris Minor. 

 

The photograph was taken near Inverary in the west of Scotland on the "Rest and Be Thankful Road"  -  It gets its name as it was once a place where people  would stop, rest and be thankful that they had  reached the top of their climb through the hilly pass between two glens (valleys).    

 

It's a very popular viewpoint which follows the line of the old military road built in 1753 by General Wade and his soldiers after the unsuccessful  1745 Jacobite Rebellion to put Bonnie Prince Charlie on the throne.   Now it is more notorious for landslips, heavy snowfalls in winter   and road closure  warnings, involving a long tour to get to the coast and the ferries to the islands.

 

 

 

 A mist  across Loch Awe in the West Highlands of Scotland. 

 

A view of Loch Etive  with misty  hills of Glencoe in the background - and seals on the rocks in the middle of the loch.  

 

 South to the Scottish Borders where I live today. 

 

 

 

 High on t he hill, at Penielheugh, near Jedburgh., you can just make out through the mist the 150 tower of the Waterloo Monument, built to commemorate  the Duke of Wellington's victory over  Napoleon in 1815.  It was built between 1817 and 1824 and looks over lush farmland and rolling hills - a notable landmark from many parts of the Scottish Borders. 

 

 

 

 Here is my Aunt Peggy perched on the wall a overlooking the most iconic image of the Scottish Borders - Scott's View. 

 Peggy was making her first and only visit back to  Britain after emigrating to Australia  with her husband in 1948.  

Below  is the view we were hoping she would see. 

 

 

 

Scott's  View was named after the 19th century writer Sir Walter Scott.  You look across to the triple Eildon Hills (no - you cannot see them in my earlier picture), with the River Tweed winding below.  You do catch a glimpse of the river in the bottom right. 

A trivia fact - the Romans called the ,Eildon Hills - 

Trimontium - the three hills.  

 

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Sepia Saturday give bloggers an opportunity 

to share their family history through photographs.

 

Look HERE  to see more contributions 

from Sepia Saturday bloggers.  

 

 

Snow on the Road - Sepia Saturday

This week's Sepia Saturday prompt photograph shows a delivery driver working in snow to deliver his goods.  Cue for me to show more snowy scenes,  past and present. 

 

The view from my window of a postman, adding  a spash  of colour as he trudged through snow to deliver the post.

 

Hawick in the Scottish Borders, 2001   

This was the hill down from our home to the High Street  and the supermarket.  Resourceful people were trudging down with rucksacks on their back and pulling sledges to load their shopping bags on to pull back home.    

1947 was  one of the worst winters that Britain had experienced.  The country was still suffering in the aftermath of war, with food rationing, power cuts, coal shortages - and no central heating in those days.  

 I do recall  my mother saying how hard it was to keep  my baby brother warm - he was only a few months old and the only heating in the  house  was the coal fire in the living room.  I remember waking up  to frost on the inside of the bedroom windows creating lovely  patterns on the glass.  

Below - photographs from  Earlston where we now live, courtesy of my local heritage group Auld Earlston.  

 1947   and in fine weather,  this is the main A68 road through the central Borders, linking Edinburgh  with England. 

 

 

Earlston Square,  1947 

 

Another view of Earlston Square in 1947

 looking across to the White  Swan pub.  

 

 

A farm lane under snow. 

In more recent times  

                                         Station Road  in Earlston 

 

 

Earlston Square  

If you shun taking your car out,  there are other means of travel.   

 

 

There is no date identified on this old photograph of the Red Lion Hotel in the Earlston Square.  The driver of this unusual sledge seems to be dressed very formally in a top hat and is not particularly well  wrapped up against the elements.  And who was he waiting for?  There does not seem to be any path cleared through the snow from  the hotel.   Or was it a promotional photograph? 

 

What about taking the train?   Or perhaps not!    

  Digging out the train in Earlston Station, 1947 

So why not get  out your walking boots  and enjoy a winter walk? 

The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found? J. B. Priestley
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/snow.html

The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found? J. B. Priestley
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/snow.h 

 

 The snow topped Black Hill in Earlston 

 

 A country scene in Earlston 

 

 

 

A riverside walk by the frozen River Teviot in Hawick. 

The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/jbpriest159615.html?src=t_snow

 

A picturesque woodland walk. 

 

On the  hill in Hawick with our dog 
 

 

A photo opportunity and a study  in blue and white  

 

 With thanks to Auld Earlston for the vintage images of Earlston 

 

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Sepia Saturday give bloggers an opportunity 

to share their family history through photographs

 

 

 

Look HERE to see more contributions 

from Sepia Saturday bloggers. 

 

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Poignant Tales from WW1 - Week 3 of 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks.

This week's prompt from "52 Ancestors" asks  me to consider what this story means to  me. 

We are at a dangerous point in our world history   with so much war and conflict dominating our news headlines.    

I take a look back at  my ancestors, who  fought  in World War 1 to remind us what war entails with suffering of those fighting  and and the anguish those families back home. 

    "I had to assist the wounded at a dressing station and stuck to     it for about 40 hours. It's blooming hard work being a            stretcher bearer in the field."  

These were the words of my great uncle George Danson (1894-1916),  written three weeks before he was killed on the Somme 

One of the many embroidered cards sent from Flanders by her sons to my widowed great grandmother, Maria Danson, nee Rawcliffe.  

George Danson was the youngest of eight sons (surviving infancy) of James Danson and Maria Rawcliffe of Poulton-le-Fylde, Lancashire.  Born in 1894, he was followed three years later by the birth of an only daughter Jennie.  The photographs and memorabilia here come from my great aunts coillection.  

Young George 

George (above) was the favourite uncle of my mother and aunt,  and they had fond memories of him, perhaps because he was nearest to them in age and took on the role of the big brother. I can see why in the photograph of him above.  George worked on W.H. Smith bookstalls at different railway stations in Lancashire and West Yorkshire.

George joined the Royal Army Medical Corps in 1916 and I was lucky enough to trace his service record on www.ancestry.co.uk  as many were destroyed  in the Second World War.  On his enlistment,  George's  medical report stated he was 5'3" tall,  weighed 109 lbs. (under 8 stone), with size  34 1/2 chest and he wore glasses - so a slight figure to be a stretcher bearer in the turmoil of war, carrying men who were badly wounded or dead.   

Also amongst the family papers were two letters written on  headed paper of the British Expeditionary Force.  A letter of 19th March 1916 to his eldest brother Robert said:

 

     "I will tell you one thing it is no easy job the army life today         and I am of the opinion as most of the chaps are here they         won't be sorry when it is all over."

The second letter of 23rd August 1916 was to Frank, the brother nearest to him in age:

     "At present we are about  8 miles behind the firing line. I had       to assist the wounded at a dressing station and stuck to it for     about 40 hours. It's blooming hard work being a stretcher             bearer in the field. On Friday I was in a big bombardment and     will say it was like a continual thunder and lightening going         off. As I write there are blooming big guns going off abut 50         yards away every few minutes. 

 

    Don't I wish that all of us could get home. Wouldn't that be           great, lad, there's a good time coming and I hope we shall all         be there to join in." 

 

Sadly it was not to be.  

 

 Three weeks later, and a week after his 22nd birthday,  George was killed on 16th September 1916 at the Battle of the Somme, and buried in the Guards Cemetery, Les Boeufs, near Albert.

 

 

 

A report in the local paper  



 A photograph, sent to his widowed mother,  of George's initial grave.  It conveys in a stark way the reality of war amid the mud and blood that George must have experienced - and contrasts with the pristine white of the more lasting memorials that we recognise today. 

 

George remembered on Poulton War Memoral  along with his brother John who died in 1917.

 I have written about George before on my blog,  but it is such a poignant tale, that  I make no apologies for telling it again.

 

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This is just one story in my family history but there is much more  to tell another time - 

• My great uncle John Danson who in 1917 committed suicide whilst in army  training,  leaving  his young daughter an orphan.
  
  
•  My great uncle Arthur  Weston killed at Gallipoli in 1915, aged 35,  leaving a wife and two young children with her  expecting their third child.  
   
• My cousin's grandfather Edward Stuart Ingram Smith - a broken man  following his war experiences  which led to his broken marriage.  
   
• My husband's great uncle ~ Fredrick Donaldson  killed the very same day as George above.  He is remembered on the Thiepval  Monument in France -  the- largest British battle memorial in the world. On Portland stone, piers are engraved the names of over 72,000 men who have no known grave and who were lost in the Somme battles between July 1916 and March 1918.
• 
  

Just five member from  one extended family   an experiences  mirrored in millions of other  families - this is what war is all about!

     

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The Wheels Go Round, Round, Round! - Sepia Saturday

 This week’s Sepia Saturday prompt photograph  shows a giant wheel at a Power Museum in Australia.  

 

 

 Above is one of the biggest wheels I have come across.  It  is in  Hawick in the Scottish Borders.  A water wheel  was a once prominent sight in the region  where I live,  as a symbol of the knitwear and tweed mills which developed alongside the many tributaries of the  River Tweed.   Before modern industrialization,  water was the main power source for industry in Scotland.  

 

This wheel at Tower Mill.   Hawick was built in 1852 over the Slitrig Water, and is noted  for having the largest surviving waterwheel in a textile mill in southern Scotland. During the 19th century, water power was superseded by steam power, and tall chimneys came to dominate the town's skyline.  

But the massive 14 foot wheel was the  first in Hawick to generate electricity in 1900.   As part of a Hawick major regeneration scheme, Tower Mill reopened in 2007  as a multi functional arts centre.  The waterwheel is still visible from above through a glass flooring.   

 

A 19th century photograph of Tower Mill, Hawick 

 

So much for the history lesson!  Let's take a look at other wheels.

 

With thanks for Auld Earlston for the this photographs from its collection  

 

Cartwheels  in the stable yard at Beamish Open Air Museum in North East England  which recreates life in the 19th and 20th centuries. 

 

A powerful view of the giant wheel on a steam train on the North Yorkshire Moors Heritage Railway at Grosmont, near Whitby.   

 

 

A visit to the National Railway Museum at York  where our  daughter enjoyed playing gymnastics on the giant wheels.

  

The London Eye - we stayed in a hotel round the corner from the Eye on the south bank of the River Thames and every evening enjoyed this lovely view. The structure, the world’s tallest cantilevered observation wheel, opened December 31st 1999 and was originally called the Millennium Wheel.

 

 

A pub sign in Greenwich, London.  

 

And a final thought - how many of you can look back on singing endless times with your children 

 

 "The Wheels of the Bus Go  Round, Round, Round".   

*****************

Sepia Saturday give bloggers an opportunity 

to share their family history through photographs.

 

 

 

 

Look  HERE  to see more contributions 

rom Sepia Saturday bloggers. 

 

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