family history – Page 2 – Natasha Houseman

14 November 20214 November 2022

There’s snow and then there’s Yorkshire snow

468a Harrogate Road, Leeds, 8 February 2009. Own collection. The snow was much reduced by the time I returned home

2 January 2009 (Monday)

“It’s been really, really snowy today. Setting off from Leeds was fine, bus & train running to time. London was a different matter. I arrived at work about a quarter to eleven – I was the only senior finance team member in! Times like this don’t happen very often in our lives and its worth just sitting back & enjoying the snow (& the now).”

In 2009 I was commuting from Yorkshire to London each week and totally bemused that London seemed to have ground to a halt that week. In Yorkshire hill farming territory, stormy weather means snow. Here is the story of three memorable Yorkshire winters illustrated beautifully in three of my grandparents’ own words.

The extracts in this blog are taken from: letters sent between Mary Booth (Nana) & Walker Barrett (Grandpy) in 1947, Mary Houseman (Grandma)’s memoir “The Changing Years” and my transcript of an oral history interview with Walker Barrett, recorded c. 2011 as part of the Washburn Heritage Centre’s archive.

1933 – “up in’t telegraph wires”

25 & 26 February 1933 saw one of the worst blizzards to ever hit the British Isles. It snowed continuously for 48 hours and there were fourteen foot drifts on Yorkshire’s moors and dales. In 1933, Walker Barrett was living in Greenhow Hill, a particularly exposed Yorkshire village.

“A lot of snow, 1933, snow were up in’t telegraph wires…..All that snow come right over the house top. Our cattle…. there weren’t water bowls in them days, they went out to the water trough. There was a snow tunnel…..trough well designed, cos it was turned off in’t house ….went underground and came up underneath t’trough, you see. Well designed cos they didn’t freeze up.”

Mary Houseman tells a similar story.

“I’m sure that winters were more severe then. Many times the roads were blocked solid for thirty days and we could not get out anywhere. We had to dig a path to get across the yard and often all the windows, taps and water would be frozen up. I once remember having to carry it all in buckets from the tank in the stock garth twice a day to water all the cows. When we started making milk we took it in cans to Norwood Edge with the horse and a homemade sledge. Some of it just stood there for days, the milk wagon couldn’t even get there. We carried hay on our back to feed the sheep. I have never worn trousers and my skirt got wet through trailing on top of snow drifts”

1947 – “It took us all day digging through high drifts just to get across the yard into the buildings”

Mary Houseman was still living at Prospect Farm, Lindley

“The winter of 1947 will be remembered a long time or should I say early Spring. At the end of February came the worst snow in living memory. Day after day it continued. Each morning when we wanted to get out of the back door we had to dig it. It took us all day digging through high drifts just to get across the yard into the buildings. We were able to milk but nothing to put it in so it was just put down the drain….It was almost impossible to get to the sheep. We hadn’t a tellyphone [sp] so we were cut off from everything and everybody for a long time but we had plenty to eat and coal to burn. When the storm did stop three of our men and some of Baxter’s used to go and dig the lane out by hand as no tractors then. The snow was frozen so hard that we walked on top of it right across to Stainburn one Sunday. We could not see any walls just the treetops stuck out. The sun shone through the day and it froze hard at night like the countries where they ski. When it did start to thaw it was waist deep in slush. When the roads did eventually get a way through they were still a foot deep in ice and bad to travel on. The poor sheep were in a sorry state. Some lost their sight it was called snow blindness. We did eventually get them near home by walking in a line on the hard path where Dad went everyday to take hay. Some could not stand so they had to be carried in a sack. We gave them milk to drink to give them a bit of nourishment and slowly they got a bit stronger. I don’t remember loosing any but a lot of sheep on the moors were snown under the drifts and never found until the snow had gone. Food for cattle and people was dropped from the air for some farmers in isolated areas…..The road over the moor was impassable for weeks. Gangs of men with shovels and spades came to cut through the drifts. I hope we never have a snow like that again”.

Walker Barrett, now at Stainburn, continues.

“We lost a lot of sheep, we did that year. But 47 snow. There were just eight weeks tilt milk wagon coming into the yard. It came in on’t Sunday when it started snowing that Sunday morning and it was just eight weeks on’t Monday before the milk wagon came into the yard

We used to sledge it down’t fields with horse & sledge and come out down at bottom of Leathley bank

He [Henry Barrett, Walker’s brother] was at Lindley….Although when we were blocked in at Stainburn he could go out every day. Cos he used to bring van and pick our milk up off road and take it down to his place to pick up”

What Walker didn’t talk about in his interview is the impact it had on his & Mary Booth’s courtship. Their letters give a sense of how long the snow kept the two young lovers apart.

Extract of a letter from Mary Booth to Walker Barrett postmarked 5 February 1947. Own collection.

From Mary to Walker, postmarked 5 February 1947 “You did right not to come last night dear as the roads are bad around here…..I was watching the weather most of the afternoon then I finally decided that it was not fit for you to come about teatime….do come up any night dear when it is fit but please don’t risk it when the roads are bad.”

From Walker to Mary, written 5 February 1947 “Well dear I am trying to write you a few lines but when’t will be posted I don’t know, we have had no post since Monday & the post doesn’t look like reaching here this week. Did you expect me on Sunday, I was sore disappointed, but it really was not safe to come, I could have got to Askwith but not back to Stainburn then I would have had to sleep with you dear. The roads around here are bad don’t think the Wolseley will be out this week. We shall have to cut the lane right from the yard bottom nearly to Ridleys & then it is blocked from the lane ends nearly to Housemans but there are 12 Germans started at the bottom end”.

From Mary to Walker, postmarked 9 February 1947 “The post man had to walk part of the way from Otley as it had drifted it again. When I saw him coming here I didn’t dare hope for one from you. As I’d been longing to hear from you all the week….. You sound to be well blocked in down at Stainburn. We’d heard from one or two folk how bad it was. It’s not much good digging as the wind fills it up again with more snow. We managed to get down to Otley on Friday but from Askwith to Otley there’s only way for single traffic so we just trust to luck that we don’t meet anything coming the other way….. But please dear don’t start to bike up as it’s too far in this weather and the roads are very rough.”

From Walker to Mary, likely February 1947, “We are pretty well cut off only open to the Bank top yet & it’s blowing it in again & snowing like blazes. I’m well & truly fed up, but I’ll pop in one of these nights. I intended coming tonight. I think we have got above our fair share of this snow up here many places the drifts are 6 & 14 ft. the Bank was full. I go through the back of Clifford & down the Bank with the milk…… our car will be lucky if it’s out for next weekend. I have never seen it since last Saturday night. I’ll have to dig it out & warm it up tomorrow & see what a car looks like”.

From Walker to Mary, 16 March 1947 “I am not so bad but fed up with the weather. Tt looks as if it will be Tuesday or possibly Wed before we manage to get the car out. Only Bernard cutting from here…..”

1979 – “special day”

Snow at Lindley in 1979. Own collection.

For Mary Houseman the winter of 1979 was far more memorable for the birth of a granddaughter than for the strikes which were causing such difficulties for the rest of the country.

1979 started with snow and ice through most of January and February we put electric fires in the parlour to keep it from freezing up and some days the milkman could not get up for the milk and January 23rd was another special day in our family. Ann got another baby girl, after a few anxious days wondering if we would all be snown in. It was a third daughter, but they chose Anna Marie for her name, a bit more up to date than just Mary. They were both well and soon back home to the ice and snow.

ADD: I recently came across this wonderful short video on BBC Rewind, Snowcats Rescue Sheep – perfectly illustrating the snows of Yorkshire in 1979.

So next time there’s a sudden snowstorm that causes mild inconvenience, sit back & enjoy the snow (& the now).

With love and thanks to my maternal grandparents Mary Booth & Walker Barrett for saving their letters of thwarted visits and to Walker Barrett & Mary Houseman for sharing their memoires in oral & written form.

11 November 202121 November 2021

What a birthday date book taught me about WW1

I grew up thinking our family had escaped largely unscathed through both WW1 and WW2. Farming was a reserved occupation and none of our ancestors had fought in either of these two horrific wars. Slowly but surely my thinking has changed. First there was my great, great Uncle, William Henry Barrett who fought in WW1 and died of tuberculosis six years after the war ended, possibly a disease caught whilst serving. Then there were two cousins, Harry Clough & Frank White, relatives of my great grandmother, Hilda Mary Scott, both killed in battle. These are the ones I have so far written a story about, but there are others too, cousins & half cousins that I have come across in my research.

Still, it felt like these were isolated incidents. We are farmers & miners. We weren’t required to fight. That was until I started to transcribe my great grandmother (Mary Wellock)’s birthday date book a couple of weeks ago. Mary or Pollie as she liked to be known was my Grandpy’s mother, born in 1886. One of eleven children in a close family I was quickly able to identify the majority of the entries. Pollie had had eight brothers but by 1914, three were likely too old to serve, two had emigrated to Canada and two had died as children, so it was probably easy enough to protect Benjamin who, as he had no children, might just have come under pressure to volunteer, or even been conscripted had he not been a farmer.

I moved on to identifying Pollie’s friends and it was then I realised that one memorial in the remote Yorkshire village of Greenhow Hill, which Pollie called home, was the unlock for many of the people she had recorded as friends. Take a moment to study the names in this photo. (I make no apologies for this being the second time I have shared it on this blog).

Memorial plaque, Greenhow Hill https://greenhow-hill.org.uk/people/1914-1918/

Busfield, Newbould, Swales, Barrett, King & Moor all appear in Mary’s date book. The Whitehead family connects very closely to the Busfields. Mary was close enough to the Swales family to list the birthdays of three siblings Edith Ellen, Ethel & James. James fought and came back, their two brothers Herbert & Leonard were not so lucky, both dying in 1916. Over half the names listed on Greenhow Hill’s memorial can be easily and closely connected to Pollie’s friends identified through this one date book.

James Swales’ birthday as recorded in Pollie Wellock’s birthday date book. His sisters Edith Ellen & Ethel also appear. James fought in WW1 together with his brothers Herbert & Leonard who both died in 1916. Own photo.

Was there a sweetheart amongst the fallen? I tend to think not as Pollie was already 28 and unmarried when war started. If it was a local boy she loved she would have been wed by then. Instead, I’d like to speculate that William Henry’s connection to Greenhow Hill was how she came to meet his brother, George Thomas and that their shared experience of friends & brothers at war led them to connect.

This was a remote farming village where many households worked in protected occupations. No matter how insulated we thought our ancestors were from the war they were not.

With much gratitude to Mary (Pollie) Wellock, who had such a fascinating birthday date book, to her daughter-in-law, Mary Booth, my Nana, who kept it safe for me and above all to those who fought and those who remembered them.

There’s a later blog exploring the rest of the birthday book here

6 November 20217 November 2021

Are we a political family?

Growing up I didn’t consider us to be a political family. We didn’t join a party, deliver leaflets, or spend time debating the political issues of the day. We voted of course although those votes counted for very little in a first past the post system. Skipton & Ripon (where I first voted) is one of the safest Conservative seats in the country. Leeds North East (where I moved in 1997) has returned a strong labour majority for the last twenty-five years. Holborn & St Pancras (my current constituency) is another staunch labour stronghold. The MP in each case is chosen not by the electorate but by party members long before the election.

Our thinking has changed as we have grown older. Whilst Mum may still refuse to tell us how she actually voted, family lunches regularly stray into political debate and even Mum became an active campaigner during the EU referendum. It was at that point I decided to gift my youngest sister, Sharon, a rather unusual birthday present which I’ll come to later.

This week’s #52ancestor hint “voting” is the prompt I needed to bring together a few short stories of how our ancestors have long engaged in politics, demonstrating that we are much more of a political family that it might have once appeared.

How the men in our family voted in the 1868 general election

Poll book for the election of two Knights of the Shire for the Eastern Division of the West Riding of Yorkshire on Saturday November 28th 1868.

The snappily named “Poll book for the election of two Knights of the Shire for the Eastern Division of the West Riding of Yorkshire on Saturday November 28^th 1868” records the actual votes cast in the 1868 general election. It also provides clues as to the voters’ relative wealth. The Reform Act 1867 had significantly increased the number of enfranchised men. In the Shires this right had been extended to all male heads of household occupying property with a rateable value of at least £12. The poll book also splits the electorate into those who either owned property or paid more than £50 a year in rent and those who did not.

It was a narrow Conservative victory over the Liberals.

What of our ancestors? William Clapham, Thomas Wellock and Joseph Furniss occupied property with a rent of £50 or more and voted for the conservative candidates. Joseph Demaine, Richard Gill and Thomas Bradbury occupied smaller properties and voted for the liberal candidates. It’s a small sample so I’ll ignore the temptation to draw conclusions about the link between wealth & party. More critically John Howson, John Handley, George Brooks & Thomas Houseman were clearly missing from the voters list. All four headed up their households in 1868 and were likely disenfranchised due to poverty. Then there’s poor Matthew Wilkinson, who’s voting card was blank as he died less than a fortnight before the election. Not that his vote would have made a difference. To a man, Rigton voted for the conservative candidates.

Extract from the above Poll Book showing a blank entry for Matthew Wilkinson

Michael Houseman and the Harrogate Liberal party

Michael is my great, great grandfather (Grandma’s Grandfather). Born in 1842, Michael would have been old enough to vote in 1868 and there is a possible conservative candidate voting match in the poll book. Unfortunately, there was more than one Michael Houseman living in Darley at the time making it impossible to know if he is ours. Indeed, later evidence would point to the opposite, for Michael was an active member of the Harrogate Liberal Party in the late 1880s, the first member of our family for whom I can evidence a political party connection.

Report of a Harrogate Liberal Party meeting, Knaresborough Post, 23 April 1887. From the British Newspaper archive.

Michael was an elected official within the Liberal Party, the Divisional Association Delegate (Haverah Park). Which might sound impressive until you consult the census and see that there were just 71 people living in Haverah Park in 1891! There’s also little evidence of Michael contributing to the party meetings which were faithfully covered in detail by the Knaresborough Post. Perhaps Michael felt he should defer to those with more education or wealth or perhaps he felt he had nothing relevant to say about Irish Home Rule which dominated the discussions through this period. (It makes me sad to write this at a time when a hard border on the island of Ireland is back causing conflict). Still, it’s wonderful to find an ancestor who was actively involved in party politics more than 130 years ago.

Marie Greevz, our first political activist

A year or so ago, my sister Sharon suggested I needed to find a suffragette in the family. Ha, I said, we are not a political family. Then I stumbled on Marie Greevz, born Martha Clapham.

Martha Clapham aka Marie Greevz (front centre) outside Leeds town hall. From William Hudson’s collection

Martha was the daughter of the previously mentioned William Clapham (my great, great, great grandfather) and their politics couldn’t have been more different for Martha was a militant feminist and active suffragette. Unlike her generational peer, Michael, Martha spoke out in meetings, wrote letters to newspapers, marched on demonstrations and was elected as the first female president of the Leeds Philatelic Society. She was a political activist and a woman I am looking forward to learning much more about.

Sharon Slinger and an unusual birthday present

Sharon & Natasha on a climate march in 2015. Own photo.

My sister Sharon and I are both political campaigners in our different ways. After many years of debate, we have learnt to wholeheartedly support each other on most issues and to respect the right to have conflicting opinions where we don’t agree. We both care deeply about people, personal integrity, community, (in)equality and climate change. We both put the work in behind the scenes to make things happen and have both learned to be pragmatic where needed. If we’d grown up in a different family we may have both engaged in party politics from an early age. But we didn’t, so we didn’t.

We’ve often voted differently, and it took the EU referendum for me to absorb how close our politics really were. Which led to the unusual birthday present. I joined Sharon up to the Lib Dems. Most inspired birthday present ever. She dived right in. For we are a political family. Earlier this year Sharon became (as far as I know) the first in our family to stand for election as a city councillor (for Weetwood in Leeds). I had to watch wistfully from London, pride in my heart, as my entire family took to the streets in support of Sharon. Labour felt nervous enough to bring in the big guns. 2,207 votes was a pretty credible result, but sadly not enough to take the seat. This time.

In short, we are a political family

250 years ago, an act of parliament allowed the majority of our ancestor households to have at least one vote. 130 years ago an ancestor first joined a political party. 100 years ago a female relation demonstrated how women could be incredibly effective political campaigners. This year my sister has proved herself as a credible candidate in a hard-fought city council election. Our next generation may or may not decide to engage directly but they will at least know that they are from a political family and they have every right to step forward should they so wish to do so.

With much gratitude to all those of my ancestors who voted and especially to Michael Houseman, Martha Clapham & Sharon Slinger who taught me that we are a political family. Also to Amy Johnson Crow for the 52 ancestors hint.

6 November 20215 January 2024

Wid Swinden, remembered

A poem by Natalie Pithers inspired by Wid Swinden’s story

Earlier in the year, I wrote a blog celebrating the lives of three pauper women ancestors including a woman known only as Wid Swinden.

“The evidence of my 7th great grandmother’s existence is slim and mostly circumstantial. Yet exist she must, less I wouldn’t”.

Wid Swinden’s tale remained with me and when I had the opportunity to be interviewed by Tina Konstant on the Waffle Free Stories podcast, her brief story was one I chose to share.

This morning I woke to the most beautiful surprise. Inspired by Wid Swinden’s story in the podcast, Natalie Pithers, a professional family history storyteller, had written me a poem.

From a paragraph in a blog, to a story in a podcast and now immortalised in poem. Wid Swinden is remembered.

Thanks to Natalie & Tina for helping that to be so.

31 October 202115 November 2021

The tank in the woods

The post landed with a loud thump. It was a package from my sister containing two old issues of “After the battle.” Why was my sister sending me thirty-year-old magazines on the machinery of war?

This picture above provides the connection. My sister had been walking the paths close to our childhood home and remembered the decrepit but much loved tank in the woods. “I was thinking about my connection to the area, and the land, and the top land, then the area round it, and we walked that way, and I was telling […..] about it. Then I was thinking it would be great if we could find the spot where it was.”

The tank in question was a Churchill Mk II. Once belonging to C Squadron, 9^th Battalion, Royal Tank Regiment and she had become bogged down on Stainburn Moor in 1941. In the 1950s the Forestry Commission planted the area with spruce trees and the tank must have slowly been forgotten by everyone but those who lived close by. People like us for whom the tank was like a piece of playground equipment in the middle of the woods.

After the battle – issue 35 – featuring our tank on the cover. Own collection.

After the battle – issue 46 – describing the tank recovery. Own collection.

When a local resident sent a picture into “After the battle” in 1982 our tank became a cover girl. Someone, somewhere decided she was worth saving and by 1984 the tank had been recovered and taken to the Museum of Army Transport in Beverley. When that Museum closed in 2003, she was moved to the Tank Museum in Dorset where she remains to this day. As the only Churchill Mk II in the country, she even has her own YouTube video. Tank Chats #112 | Churchill Mk I and II | The Tank Museum.

“Our” tank, on a family trip to the Museum of Army Transport. Own collection.

Today was a wonderful reminder of the many strange paths family research takes you down. With much gratitude to my sister Helen for researching this lovely snippet of our family’s history.

A postscript

Paul Towers is my third cousin through Amelia Bradbury & Michael Houseman, my Grandma’s paternal grandparents. We now know we are relatives through at least two other branches and, as Paul grew up in Leathley, he also knew my Houseman Uncles from school. Yet it took a myheritage DNA match for us to connect as fellow family history geeks. In the last six months I’ve learnt how much his commitment to sharing family history has helped me with my own. Thanks to my sister’s own research I can start to return the favour because, as it turns out, Churchill tanks & Bovington tank museum link directly to his father, Bob.

Bob Towers at Bovington. Paul Towers photo.

“I knew my dad had been in tanks during the war but he never, ever spoke about it. Then, the Washburn Heritage people got in touch for a story about locals who had served for their oral history project. I think it was this that opened him up. He knew he was in the twilight of his life and he told me he wanted to go to the Tank Museum at Bovington, Dorset. I booked a local pub and we went down for a couple days. He took some of his photos and papers from the army for them to copy or keep. On meeting the curator he was extremely grateful. Dad had been in the 7th Royal Tank Regiment and the museum had no artefacts regarding them at all. The attached photo is him standing next to a Churchill similar to the one he was in. The following summer dad said he wanted to go again, so I booked the same pub, but this time I rang the museum and spoke to the curator. When we got there he was waiting for us, he gave dad a transcription of the 7RTR war diary and took us to the display where dad’s memorabilia was on show. I swear he was close to tears“.

Who could have asked for a more perfect postscript to connect the past to the present?

29 October 202122 November 2022

An almost Yorkshire story – the podcast version

Writing this blog is principally about bringing our ancestors to life in an engaging and accessible way with the hope that their stories get shared and remembered now and in the future. That’s my primary goal, but it’s not my only one. It’s also about me learning to be a better writer, storyteller & communicator. So when Tina offered me the chance to record a podcast interview for waffle-free family stories, I took it.

“We talk about her grandmother’s role in getting her hooked on family trees, how she’s giving life to the women in her story, the horrible accident that led to one child shooting another, and right at the end, she gives you THE BEST conversation ice-breaker you’ll ever know.

In between all that chat, she talks about the tools and techniques she uses to get as close to the real story as possible, and how she plugs the gaps”

I’d say that our family history really is all about wonderful women and that I haven’t quite lost my Yorkshire accent! Avid readers of this blog may notice the odd mix-up I had with names but don’t let that distract from the storytelling.

Here are the links to where you can find out more about the women (and men) I talk about.

How I started

Mary Ann Gill

Elizabeth Furniss & George Downs

Elsie Moody including the photo I used to resemble

Elizabeth Dean and the Butterworth connection

Hannah Demaine, the woman who married twice

Widow paupers including “Wid Swinden”

The Wellocks

Walter Scott, the boy who was shot by his friend

With much gratitude to Tina Konstant, for giving me space on her podcast, and also to Natalie Pithers, who runs the Curious Descendents Club which is how I met Tina & is also where I am learning to write better stories.

10 October 202113 October 2021

Martha Handley (1830 – 1921) & William Clapham (1829 – 1893)

Martha Handley, from Justin Clapham’s collection

This is part of a series of brief biographies of earlier ancestors.

On Monday, 1 March 1920, Martha would have been celebrating her 90^th birthday. It had been a fair February that year so perhaps Martha sat on her front doorstep of Blaeberry Croft cosily wrapped in her woollen shawl and headscarf with her faithful dog by her side. How might she be reflecting on those past ninety years?

Martha had lived her whole life in North Rigton, a compact Yorkshire village situated towards the top of a hill. It’s a popular place these days, just a few miles to Harrogate, close to Weeton station giving easy access to Leeds and beyond, with an excellent primary school and a welcoming pub.

During Martha’s childhood it would have felt very different. Yes, the Square & Compass served ale of course, to the men of the village, but it also acted as the place where inquests and other village meetings were held. The church wasn’t built until 1911 . A methodist chapel had been built in 1816 but was replaced in 1932. Farming was hard and winters bleak. Harrogate and Leeds would have felt another country.

Early twentieth century postcard of North Rigton, from www.northrigton.org

Martha was the youngest of five girls and, for a period of time, very much the baby of the family until joined by her illegitimate niece, Matilda. Her older sisters ranged in age from five to sixteen and when she was born in 1830 Martha’s parents, Sarah Halliday & John Handley, likely despaired at the arrival of yet another girl. John was a gamewatcher and farmed a few acres, a precarious existence which relied on sons for labour in their youth and the “pension” for parents in their old age.

Baptism record of William Clapham at Kirkby Overblow, 1829, showing parents as Henry & Hannah Clapham. Note: there was a second William Clapham baptised at a similar time, but 1841 census & William’s marriage record ties to this one.

Then there was William. Likely also a baby of the family as his parents, Hannah Hardcastle and Henry Clapham were aged around 45 and 60 when he was born on 12 March 1829. The Claphams were tenant farmers also living in North Rigton where their family had lived for many generations.

William & Martha were close neighbours, listed on adjoining pages in the 1841 census, and on 4 November 1850, with William having both become the head of household following the death of his father and attained the age of twenty-one, the pair were married at Kirkby Overblow church.

Marriage certificate of Martha Handley & William Clapham,. Kirkby Overblow, 1850

Martha’s reflections likely moved on to her married life and that of her family. Nine children arrived in quick succession all surviving to adulthood. Samuel, the eldest, born in 1854, married to a local woman, with four children all already married, ten grandchildren and more to come. Martha might even have had a letter in her hand from Samuel’s son, William, who had emigrated to Canada a few years ago. Joseph, her baby, born in 1871, had got married in Hartlepool, but had thankfully chosen to come back to nearby Fairview Farm, so Martha would have regularly seen his six children. Samuel & Joseph were doing just fine.

It was the middle children Martha worried about. Henry (b. 1856), Hannah (b. 1858), William (b. 1861), Abigail (b. 1866) and Mary Grace (b. 1870) had all remained unwed. Henry had died in 1902, but the others were all still living close by. They supported each other with the sisters acting as housekeepers for the brothers and Mary Grace still living at home with Martha, but was that a life? And of course Sarah (b. 1859) – did she marry, die or disappear after 1881? I haven’t been able to trace her, but Martha would have known.

Then there was Martha or Marie as she now liked to call herself. Born in 1863, she’d always thought differently. “As a young country girl she used to tramp the 12 miles to attend the meetings of Charles Bradlaugh.” Marie was married to John Greevz Fisher and living in Leeds. Her five children, Auberon Herbert, Wordsworth Donisthorpe, Constance Naden, Spencer Darwin and Hypatia Ingersoll were named after anarchists and radical philosophers. Marie was a militant feminist and active suffragette and deserves her own story but right now, sat on her Rigton doorstep, Martha must have wondered how on earth she’d come to raise such a daughter.

The time for sadness would come later, when, perhaps one of Martha’s children would take her on the short trip to Kirkby Overblow church. After more than forty years of marriage, William had died on 13 December 1893 and was buried where the couple married, in Kirkby Overblow together with their son, Henry. That would be the time for sadness and in the meantime, Martha could be happy with her ninety years, surrounded by her family in the village she was born. Martha was to die the following year on 29 March 1921 and was buried with her husband at Kirkby Overblow.

Martha Handley, from Justin Clapham collection

With much gratitude to Martha Handley & William Clapham, my great, great, great grandparents through my paternal Grandad, for bringing up such a wonderful family.

A brief addendum

Sarah didn’t, as it turns out, disappear. She married Richard Hallewell, moved to Armley and had two children, Mary Ellen & Richard Bertram. Indeed, Mary Ellen was staying with her grandparents at the time of the 1891 census which is a reminder to double check all the available evidence. Sarah was widowed sometime between 1909 and 1911 and ultimately moved back to the area.

In 1909, Mary Ellen married one William Houseman and moved to Felliscliffe looping right back into our family. It possible the two would have met when her cousin and my great grandmother Mary Abigail Clapham married George Houseman in 1906. William & George were both second cousins through William’s father, John Houseman, and third cousins through his mother, Ann Houseman. Incidentally this also makes William as closely related to Jesse Houseman, my Grandma’s father as it does to George, my Grandad’s father.

A diagram helping to illustrate the connectedness between cousins Mary Abigail & Mary Ellen’s husbands.

Although I have now identified Mary Ellen she was still absent from Martha’s 90^th celebrations as she had sadly died the previous year.

17 September 202118 December 2021

My life as a Yorkshire hill farmer: written by an eleven year old in 1987

All photos are taken from my school geography book. The images were all clipped from magazines and stuck in a school exercise book back in 1987 and as such i don’t know who to credit. If they happen to be yours do let me know.

This week’s #52ancestors hint of “on the farm” had me flummoxed. When your father, both grandfathers, all four great grandfathers and many, many generations before them were all Yorkshire hill farmers, life on the farm is woven into at least half of what I write. How can I either synthesise all of that history into one blog or even pick just one story to tell?

Then I thought of the geography homework I was set in my first year at secondary school when I was eleven years old. We were tasked with writing about a year in the life of a hill farmer in the Pennines. I remember writing this sat in my Grandma’s kitchen at Prospect Farm. The open fire with an old oven was by my side, installed (I believe) when my great grandparents moved in, and now used only to keep orphan lambs warm. My Grandma & Aunt were ready waiting to answer questions and there was a pile nearby of Farmers Weekly and other magazines to cut pictures out of to help illustrate the story. The words flowed and it was no surprise that writing about the life I knew earned me a special commendation.

This story was nothing less than a year in the life of my Dad, my Grandparents and likely my Great Grandparents too. This was life as a Yorkshire hill farmer in the 1980s and as such I have transcribed rather than edited. (Including putting aside the slight geographical liberty in the first line – the Pennines don’t quite continue as far as Harrogate). The added benefit is just a hint of how we spoke which even now (after so many years away from Yorkshire and from farming) causes people to guess where I am from.

There’s also a bonus story. Apparently an eleven year old me had figured out how to solve the financial problems of a hill farmer and it just made me laugh.

My life as a hill farmer, 13 February 1987

Our Farm

My Farm is in the Pennines somewhere near the town of Harrogate. As I have mainly sheep, I only need one farm help, his name is Andrew. The farm buildings are quite ancient as most farm buildings are. My family have lived in it for years on end. During the early summer months there is not much work to do and my son comes over so Andrew is not needed. Late summer he is needed though because of the Haymaking. Other times as well are busy such as Lambing time and winter.

January

January isn’t that bad a time, so it just starts off the new year. The cattle are in the barns and yards so they have not far to go to get to the milking parlour. The snow is still quite bad though, and the shaeep have to be brought down to be sorted, to see which ones need to go to the market. The sheepdog came in handy with these.

How I wish it wasn’t so snowy round here about half a mile down the road they’ve never seen this snow, this January.

February

The lambing season is well under way, we started early enough – beginning of January, but they are coming thick and fast now. We’ve had quite a lot of calves too, but as they come all year round, to make milk, it’s nothing new.

We rolled the hayfields this month ready for fertiliser, and manure that the cows have made in winter. We let the cows out into the pasture, but took them in at night as it is still very cold and damp.

No pet lambs so far all the orphan and triplet lambs have been fostered, thank goodness.

March

I was glad to put the cows out this month. They’ve eaten too much hay, because the winter has been so bad. Some of the bullocks were sold this month in the market, I think I bought too much as well, The sheep have all finished lambing except for one old ewe, she’s probably saving it for April. Still never mind all the others have finished. It was tillaging time, because I put the manure on, in February. The hay has just got to grow now and it’ll be ready for July – August time. One problem with the cows out is that you have to fetch them further for milking.

April

The lambs and sheep are back on grass upomn the hills. We needn’t worry about them for a while.

There’s plenty of showers in April so for a while the sheep flock down in the valley and near the fences, as they are normally indoors for lambing, The old ewe lambed on the 1^st second in April. I knew she’d do that, she likes to lamb in April but she couldn’t last any longer. We had some more calves this month and a bit more milk, too much in fact, I was over quota, oh dear!

May

Three more calves were born this month and that’s it for now, til about September.

We had to round the sheep up for shearing, because the shearers have come, the sheep-dogs didn’t let us down today. They didn’t get all the sheep done in one day in took 5 days in all to clip 5000 seep, and only one man was clipping at once, because we only have one clipper, while the others were eating tea or having a drink.

June

Dipping, silaging and checking the hay what a busy month. The dipping was soon done after the clipping and the sheepdogs were definitely needed as they deep don’t like going in the dip. Mind you I wouldn’t either. The hay is nearly ready for haymaking. Maybe in July we’ll harvest it, because this month it’s first cut silage. There was a lot so Andrew had to stay on and help us otherwise we wouldn’t get it all done. The sheep are now going high up in the hills, so high in fact that I have to go up at least once a week to check them, The cattle have been confined to a small space for the moment so there is enough grass for hay and silage. We do keep a few hens and they are really laying now, if we could find the nests.

July

Haytiming has come, and all the preparing hasn’t gone to waste, it is a lovely harvest which should keep the cows through the winter. It was a busy time throughout from 5 o’clock to 10 o’clock at night. Just as the last load came in it started to rain. We were lucky. Unlike our neighbours who had two fields left when it started. Just like we were last year. The sheep have disappeared over the top so we have to go and count them everyday and by it is windy over there. We’ve let the cows in to the hay field so there’s a bit more room now and are making a bit more milk, thank goodness.

August

Haytiming over, and a short second cut silage maybe, but the weather has been so bad. Andrew says down town its nice and dry with maybe two showers at the most, here it’s raining every second.

Maybe I’ll have to sacrifice the second cut silage for the cows. Later on I did just that, sacrificed the second stage for the cows, and next day it cleared up fine. Why did I do that. The cows are lucky though, they get a lot more grass and are producing more richer milk. I just hope I don’t go over quota, I have been three times this year. The sheep are doing alright though. Some of them have come back over the hill which means it must be getting colder.

September

Raining again, when will it stop raining, It’s always bad weather up here. My best dog Lassie has had pups so she’s now out of action so I have only Laddie and Bill to round up the sheep for counting. I’d rather be an arable farmer because all their work is nearly done and can have a rest during winter. I have to carry on all through the winter counting sheep and milking cows. The cows are still producing milk, but one or tow of them are going to have calves in the next month or so,

October

It’s nice to see some new calves but it’s such bad weather, I’ll have to keep them inside and some of the cows have to go in at night, more will in time I suppose. The sheep are sheltering by the fences for warmth. I’ll take the rest of the cows in next month early on though because it started snowing in November last year. I’ll probably have to buy some feed in this year because I didn’t get enough silage to feed all the cows. That will be more expense I suppose.

November

More calves, I’ll have to take some to the market with some bullocks and some cows because I can’t possibly keep them all on so little food. The sheep dippers came last month. When we rounded up the sheep they were eager to come down because they thought they were going inside. What a surprise met them when they had to go in a cold bat instead. Poor things I wouldn’t make them if I didn’t have to. The cows are staying inside now it will be a bit warmer at least, and I have got quite a few calves. Just at the end of November it snowed. Thank goodness I’ve got all the cows in, but it was only a small shower, a small part of what is due to come.

December

Last month of the year, but the snowiest one yet.

What an end. The sheep need feeding every day now and the hay is going down, I wish I hadn’t sacrificed the silage early on. The cows are producing calves and milk and to do that they need more food. I’ll definitely have to buy some in. But, still there will be plenty of calves for next year. No Christmas for me this year, some of the sheep are going to have lambs soon and they have to be looked after, maybe on New Years even we can go out, or maybe we will be snowed in.

Bonus story: financial problems of a hill farmer

Written on 17 February 1987

A Hill Farmer needs to make money to survive and to feed his family. There are some ways of doing this

Don’t buy in as much food
Keep as many cows as possible
Don’t go over quota
Unless the sheep can’t get to grass don’t feed them
Make enough silage and hay to last the winter and keep it dry
Get orphan lambs another mother
Do your own walling
Grow something like turnips seep eat the stubble ones
Find a job in town

Sometimes Farmers decide to move to town. There can be several reasons for this:

The weather, snow rain and wind
Farmers have to rise early
They don’t often go out because they need to go to bed early
They are often in isolated places
They are busy all day long
The animals might have got a disease eg foot rot or even foot and mouth
The hay might be ruined
Milk might go well over quota
The bank might be in the red.

The earnest advice of an eleven year old!

With much gratitude to all my farming ancestors and particularly to my Grandma & my Aunt who were there by my side when I wrote this story and to my geography teacher of the time, Mrs Swales, who set the assignment.

12 September 202118 December 2021

A Singer sewing machine

The Singer sewing machine today, own photo

My beautiful Singer sewing machine arrived home on Wednesday after many months in the repair shop and, with this week’s #52ancestors theme being “working”, there’s really only one story to write. This is the story Mary Booth (aka Nana, my mother’s mother) or more specifically Mary’s working life as a dressmaker.

Mary was just fourteen when she started work as an assistant at a ladies’ outfitters shop at the smart address of The Grove, Ilkley. Each day she would jump on her bike and cycle the four miles each way from her home in Askwith. Each day her sewing skills developed.

It was her father, Arthur Booth, who had found her this role and it was her father who bought Mary her first sewing machine, a Singer 201K1.

The Singer 201K manual, that tells me I should thread from right to left for this particular machine. Own photo.

This beautiful treadle machine was first produced in 1935. Top of the range, they were expensive to buy. “Favoured by tailors and professional seamstresses because of the large ‘harp’ space, to accommodate bulky fabric, they could easily cost 6 months wages and so were frequently purchased on credit” and I like to think was a the demonstration of a a father’s love for his female child.

Mary’s skills swiftly progressed, and, with her own machine she was able to take on commissions. Demand grew and by her late teens Mary had left the ladies’ outfitters: she was setting up on her own. In the 1940s people still tended to make their own clothes or commission others to do so. This was particularly the case for people of an unusual size or for special occasions. Mary had customers and a viable business.

The wedding of Hilda Booth & George “Bud” Nelson on 7 September 1946. All dresses (and accessories) made by Nana. Photo own collection

On the 7 September 1946, Mary’s older, and only, sister, Hilda Booth, married George “Bud” Nelson. It was eighteen-year-old Mary who made the outfits for bride & bridesmaids right down to the bright red fingerless gloves. Imagine the pressure! Yet, it also made a wonderful advert for Mary’s skills and wedding dresses became a speciality for many decades. Her own wedding in 1948 & her daughter’s (my Mum) in 1973 illustrating the longevity of her career. Family & friends aside (for Mary was a kind and generous person and known to undercharge) dressmaking provided a steady income for many years until arthritis finally became too severe to continue.

Fingerless gloves made by Mary to wear at her sister’s wedding. Own photo.

Yet what of this wondrous sewing machine? The first Singer 201K was a treadle and these were fast being replaced by those with an electric motor. Recognising the investment, Mary had a motor added and continued to use the same machine until sometime in the late 60s/early 70s when she finally acquired a more modern version with money saved from her dressmaking. The old Singer was relegated to an upstairs bedroom.

It is this newer machine that I remember, sitting in the corner of the main room that served as living & dining space. There was a bin of material scraps by its side, reams of materials underneath and an old chocolate box full of shuttles. It is where I learnt to sew.

A teddy bear I made as a child under my Nana’s tutorship. Own photo – the scanner doesn’t do it justice!

I inherited the old Singer machine, I think when Nana & Grandpy finally moved from the farmhouse to a modern bungalow in the 1990s.

I’m ashamed to admit that, for the last twenty years, this wonderful machine has acted as little more than a table for displaying family photos. Then, about three years ago, I bribed a friend, Rachel (with the promise of an afternoon of sewing with gin & tonic) to help me get over my nervousness. We lifted the cover, flipped down the front ledge and pulled the machine from its dusty lair. Rachel, always diplomatic, suggested that twenty years of being under a table had taken a toll and maybe we should stick to gin & tonic. It took me another year to find a repair shop (Tony’s Sewing Centre) who kindly suggested that the electrics were, quite likely, lethal. Fast forward through Covid and finally, the machine that gave my Nana independence is ready to be used again.

With much gratitude to my Mum, who always helps me with these stories, to my friend Rachel, who made me face what needed to be done to get the machine working, to Tony & his wife at Tony’s Sewing Centre in Tufnell Park who brought the Singer back to life, to Amy Johnson Crow whose #52ancestors challenge encouraged me to publish this story and above all to my Nana who we’ll always miss.

11 September 202118 December 2021

Elizabeth Furniss (1817 – 1911) & George Downs (1809 – 1868)

This is part of a series of brief biographies of earlier ancestors.

I turned to Elizabeth & George as part of a plan to ensure I’d fully captured all relevant documents for each of my great, great, great grandparents. A Darley farming couple, I didn’t expect this to be more than a short biography but when I looked into those documents I found a wonderful story of a woman who really came into her own upon the death of her husband.

Darley-cum-Menwith is a typical Yorkshire farming village. Today it is a sought after country location close to Harrogate, commutable to Leeds and right on the borders of the Yorkshire Dales. In the mid-nineteenth century it was a thriving village. The 1841 census lists 725 people living in around 150 households who worked in agriculture or as shoemakers, linen weavers and wheelwrights. There was a church, two methodist chapels and a friends meeting house, a school, grocers and public houses. It was a self-contained village – even the arrival of a railway station in the 1860s meant you took a day trip to Harrogate, it didn’t mean you married out of the area.

The Great British Agricultural Depression was yet to hit and Darley was thriving.

So let’s meet Elizabeth & George at the time of the railways and specifically in the year 1866. Elizabeth was 49, George eight years older. Elizabeth was born in Darley in 1817, the daughter of a local farming couple, Mary Pullan & Joseph Furniss, and she married George Downs, on 2 November 1836 at the age of nineteen. George, aged twenty-seven when they married, was the third son of another local farming family, Mary Beecroft & John Downes. The couple spent their early married life living with George’s parents no doubt whilst they were searching for a suitable tenancy. Such was the life of a third son and those they married.

Thornthwaite church (c) Calverleyinfo www.calverley.info

By 1866 they’d made it – 30 acres of land on Craike Lane and six surviving children, Mary (b. 1836), Salina (b. 1839), George (b. 1841), Elizabeth (b. 1847), John (b. 1852) and Ann (b. 1858). There’s a reason for choosing 1866 and it’s not just about the railway. On 22 September of that year, Elizabeth & George’s eldest daughter, Mary, married Thomas Houseman, another local farmer, and that union ultimately led to me. I can imagine that wedding at the beautiful Thornthwaite church with the trees turning their autumn colour. There would have been the traditional seating complications as Elizabeth’s brother, John, had married the groom’s sister, Mary, but at least that likely ensured family presence. The date was no doubt chosen to be post harvest and it wouldn’t surprise me if the ceremony was scheduled to allow for milking time. Elizabeth & George could be proud of the family they had brought up.

Then, just over a year later, on 7 December 1867, George wrote a will. Maybe he was already ill or maybe he was approaching 60 and conscious of his young family. Whatever the reason, it was timely, he died a few months later, on 21 May 1868.

It was a precarious time. Elizabeth, aged 51, was left to raise a family the majority of whom were female and under age. The eldest son, George, had married, the younger son, John was just sixteen. Farm tenancies didn’t pass automatically to women or underaged boys. The Great Agricultural Depression was just starting and farming was becoming less viable. It would have been very easy for the family to progress to the workhouse.

It is the will that suggests that Elizabeth had this under control. Written months before he died it suggests a confidence in her ability and the likelihood of a couple who had discussed and prepared for George’s death.

George asks that Elizabeth “remain tenant and manager of the farm occupied by me if permitted to do so by the proprietor.” He orders that the “remain of my personal estate shall be equally divided among my son George and my other surviving children share and share alike” and directs that “before this division there be an auction sale of my personal effects such as farming stock implements household furniture etc”

The normal practice is for fathers to leave the bulk of their estate to their eldest son to ensure a viable farm is passed on. The only exception being where an eldest son is already fully set up in business or they have fallen out, and as the son George is named as an executor that doesn’t appear to have been the case. George didn’t do this – he intended for his wife to remain in charge, split his estate equally and specified that everything should be sold before the estate was split. My personal experience is it’s incredibly difficult to properly value everything in a farm business and incredibly expensive to set up from scratch. If you want to ensure equal inheritance this is the way to do it, but it runs the very real risk that none of the sons inherit sufficient to set up on their own.

What all of this (together with other evidence) suggests is that Elizabeth was very much a partner in this farm and that George cared deeply about his wife and all his young family.

Elizabeth took on the tenancy of the farm and by 1881, at the age of 64, had doubled the acreage. Her remaining children went on to marry well and all lived long fulfilling lives. Ten years later, in 1891, aged 74 she was living with her daughter, Ann, but was described as living by independent means. Ditto 1901 and 1911. Finally, at the age of 94, Elizabeth died on 31 July 1911. She lived almost half her life as a widow and had thrived.

___________

There are missing pieces to this story. I am sure there are documents concerning the passing of the tenancy and I know there’s a lot more I could write about the life of farmers at this time. However, the big gap for me is that I have no photo of Elizabeth. Despite this competent and, quite possibly, formidable woman reaching the grand old age of 94, I’ve found no trace of an obituary, her story or any photos. This blog is the start of a journey to rectify that.

With much gratitude to Nathalie Pithers for running the excellent Curious Descendants Club at which Tina Konstant ran such an inspiring story telling session that I spent the rest of the evening writing this blog and, of course, to Elizabeth Furniss & George Downs, my great, great, great grandparents through my paternal Grandad, for leaving me such a wonderful story to write.