RootsChat.Com

After reading a discussion about people posing with letters, photos etc., I thought of this pic which I scanned to be used as a cover for our Local History magazine. We never found out who this lady was, although the photo was taken by the local photographer. We did hope the book in her hand would provide a clue and I scrutinised the original with a magnifying glass, only to find that the slim volume with which she poses so elegantly is entitled "Photographic Chemicals"!
      Do feel free to play with it if  you wish.

My cousin called today to show me this lovely picture of my mum's dad aged about 3, I think, which would make it about 1882-3. It's clear, but rather faint, so if anyone would like to make him clearer, I would be thrilled. It's a studio photo.If you feel like colour, he had mid-brown hair. His father was a journeyman Blacksmith (so the family weren't well off), and he grew up to follow the same trade, but died in 1925 at 45. I never knew him, but feel as if I did as the family talked about him often. My avatar is a picture of his mother as a young woman.

The following is an extract from an account of working life by a dear old friend of mine (reproduced with his permission). He began work in the 1930s in the 'Clicking Room' of a local shoe factory. Clickers were the elite of the shoe trade; they had to cut out uppers from hides of leather avoiding flaws and weak spots whilst getting out as many pieces as possible. The clickers were generally very vocal and political, and arguments frequently broke out, except on Armistice Day.


   
       "On the morning of that day, the clickers would be muted. Little conversation would take place.
          At about a quarter to eleven all the clickers as they worked would spontaneously sing in harmony "Abide with Me". Then silence would fall as the clock hands moved to eleven o'clock. George Pentelow  would pick up his strap-stick, take out his watch, and go over to the great belt. William Alfred would come out of the leather store. He would nod to George who would look at his watch and push the belt on to its free pulley.
          'Brownie' would slow down the diesel engine and the lights would die down. In the November gloom some clickers would stand silent as grey silhouettes; others would put their head in their hands and lean their elbows on their cutting boards. The whole factory would fall silent as we observed the Two-Minutes' Silence. Then slowly the lights would flicker and come on as Brownie opened up the diesel engine. George would push the belt back on to the driving pulley. The rest of the day would pass quietly with little conversation. Any talk was always subdued that day. There would be no arguments.
           I realised that these were men for whom the Somme, Paschendaele and Vimy Ridge were real and terrible places and experiences."

         I used to know a lovely lady called Miriam who died in 1992. She told me this story. Her first husband, Arnold, was captured by the Germans at Dunkirk (I got that wrong; he was shot down) and was held as a prisoner of war. Towards the end of the war they were being marched westwards when an RAF plane came over and strafed them, thinking they were Germans. Arnold was killed.
     I have always been moved by the story and would love to find out more about him, BUT this is the sum of my knowledge:
          Her name was Miriam, maiden name unknown. She was possibly from somewhere near Rotherham. Married again to a Reg (?) Smart. Died 1992
          His name was Arnold, surname unknown, probably from Northampton. Probably died 1944/45
          Her second husband was ?Reg Smart whom she may not have married until the 50s or later, as she said she was by then too old to have children. He died suddenly in the 1980s
         
    It's not much, I know. I can access Ancestry at my local library, but I would be really grateful for any suggestions as to how I can go about it. I have to use online info as much as I can both for financial reasons and because I can't get to the RO. I'm posting this in the Common Room in the hope that more people will see it. Thanks in anticipation.