Family History, Berwick on Tweed

I finally finished the family History printing and sorting.  This was to take a bit longer than intended, as my great niece had manged to insert a child into the wrong spot.  It was as I attempted to work out how a man could be Baptising his child in 1815, when he himself had only been born in 1808 that I realised something was amiss.  Young Mary was sent to her actual father and was probably the better for this.

So I sent off what I thought relevant to the lass somewhere in Canada.  Hopefully she is able to make the journey to Edinburgh and Berwick.  I would like to go back to both places sometime, but not at the moment.  

It is somewhat strange to look at streets 150 years after the forefathers have lived there.  Outwardly much remains the same, yet the conditions were very different.  Gas lighting in the streets, if any that is.  Oil lamps in homes, horses and carts, Cows, pigs, sheep and other farmers goods in the street on market day.  Fancy outfits, all revealing class, especially from the upwardly mobile.  No NHS, leave school at 13, or earlier if no one looking, no radio, tv, yet there was an abundance of newspapers and magazines readily available.  Some like to think this was a better time, unless you had TB or rickets I suppose.

This little intrusion does make me want to look again and check all the facts that we know.  However, as most were farmers in the borders this means I must pay more to the Scotland People site to seek info.  Quite why they could not do a Scotland Ancestry instead of a separate organisation I know not, but I smell money here.

However, here is a short tour of Berwick on Tweed.

Barbers For Shearing

In an effort to lose weight I decided to make a start today.  I had a haircut!  Early today I limped round to the Market Square and entered the Barbershop.  Careful praying before leaving was required, Tuesday is 'Old Men's Reduced Price Day,' and therefore I wished to be first!  I entered a quiet shop. two chairs filled, and almost finished, an aged woman looked through aged magazines as she awaited her aged man, the quiet chatter continued as I slid into the seat and waited.

Shortly afterwards the far chair emptied, I was motioned forward, telling the woman, who done me last time, to finish the coffee she had been trying to scoop down.  She refused as by now it was cold anyway, indicating non stop work since opening. 

The chat was amiable, the hair removed in similar fashion to shearing sheep.  The machine bussed, the hair flew, large dollops falling to the ground as she spoke.  Eventually the job was complete, I felt a stone lighter, I saw my ears once again, and at my feet was sufficient wool to knit a pullover.  

I paid my £10, plus £3 more as a tip for more coffee, and almost skipped out the door past the five men now awaiting removal of the grey stuff.  I was happy, and the only dull note was Easter, when asked I mentioned I did nothing but attend church and the response was, er, hesitant.  A good shop however, but interesting.  Two women on today, clipping as hard as they can, though with many of the old boys awaiting there is plenty of room in the middle of the grey hair!

Back home I considered the jobs awaiting.

I ignored them.

So, back to ancient history.

This American lass wants info on the family line.  I have lost much of it and must scramble through what is left and what I have improved upon.  I am amazed at what I have recovered, and amazed at how hard all this is now.  Once it was fun, now it is difficult.  Especially as I am not back into the 1700s and unsure if these are the correct men.  Ho hum.

My father was born in Edinburgh, his father just across the border near Berwick.  The family were farmers, tenant farmers I assume, as they kept moving around.  It was probably the agricultural/economic downturn that drove my great grandfather into Berwick.  Here he ran a pub, 'The Black Swan' opposite the market place.  He also farmed 40 acres nearby.  This makes sense, his girls mostly ran the pub, one was deaf and dumb but worked there for many years, he could manage the small acreage, he had 175 acres before this, and my grandfather worked there also for a while as far as I can tell.  

Great grandfathers father also farmed, back in the 1700s.  How hard was this work?  His father also farmed, but it is dubious which man was his father, not because of 'hank-pankie' but the line offers one or two suggestions.  A lot of the lines include the name 'Robert.'  Father to son we see 'Robert,' and this name is found on all possible lines.  I am hoping this line goes back to the one called 'James!'

Now I am worn out by my mental efforts, it does not take much, and I seek rest and repose.  I may dream, as some can, of travel to far away places once visited, though the Scottish borders are not as warm as middle eastern places some have trudged about on.  I am lucky I can still make Tesco!

Family History

Since yesterday morn, where, dressed like a gangster in a black mask, I visited Tesco before dawn I have refused to leave my chair.  Simple laziness plus a desire to reply to the genealogy query sent to me.  I was glad as wearing a mask I canny breathe and my glasses steam up so not going into shops makes life easier.  I agree with the principle, I just canny breathe!  
Anyway, some time back I failed to find anything about James, a distant relative.   I did the decent thing and gave up.  It was a bit trying at the time and I needed a break.  Yesterday, once I had restarted this quest, I was happy to discover someone else had been looking in the same area and had not only found James (The Young Yin) but also his father James (the Auld Yin) and further his father John (The Very Auld Yin).  All, as is the case, farmers or tenant farmers in the Scots borders.

Making use of Google Maps I can get a glimpse of the land as they knew it.  The small towns and villages they knew have not grown much, some not at all, and the area is still dependent on farming for the most part for a living.  Taking into account the hardship of the days, Religious strife, all proud Scots and Protestant, the wars that passed through their lands, including 'Bonnie Prince Charlie' not that far away, and I am left wondering looking at gaps in the story whether some men have wandered of to a war or two?  Certainly they would not follow Charlie, the would be Catholic King, but adventure may call on occasion.

Farmers at the time, enduring economic and weather led woes, would work physically all hours of the day.  Little else to distract them, church on Sunday, family times together, educating them as best as they could, and breeding well, one man had 10 children when I lost count, plus one that failed to survive.  
Eventually, great granddad moved into Berwick itself, running a pub near the market with the help of his daughters, one of whom was deaf, and farming a nearby 40 acres.  Having seen the vista from the farm land moving into Berwick must have appeared to him like moving into a big city.  Edrom still has a mere handful of houses, most of whom were created after his forefathers moved on, and while Berwick has the sea beside it, once Scotland's richest city,  it appears to you and I as a very small town indeed.

  
So, while researching this I managed to ignore the dreadful performance of the West Indies cricket team.  Poor bowling, howling batting and nothing more than a desire to get out of the dismal wet Manchester and return to somewhere warm!  I do not blame them!