As any readers of the previous blog will realise I went to Norfolk today. It is half-term and Pa had a meeting in KingsLynn. Joe and I hitched a lift; we thought about going to Sandringham, but it is quite expensive and we decided that just over two hours was insufficient time to do it justice, so we went to Flitcham instead armed with my camera with a nice big, empty memory card.
This is where my great-grandfather, David Jones, was vicar, where his two youngest children were born (the older ten were all born in Wales), and where he was buried.
Here are some pictures of the church, and of his grave which would have been within the apse of the early mediaeval building.
I wanted to be able to say that the fine Victorian font is the one in which my grandmother was baptised, but there was a big improvement scheme in 1901 when these pews were put in at the expense of the parish's patron, King Edward VII who also donated this font from Sandringham at the same time (about six years after Nan was born). The organ, also a gift from the king, is dated 1909 and replaced the reed organ which Ethel played, helped - or more often hindered - by her youngest brother and sister who had the job of pumping it for her.
However, this is the school she attended from the age of two - the same one where one of her sisters was the teacher.
Leaving the village we drove past the old vicarage. "I wish I had the nerve to walk up to the door and say 'My grandmother was born here; can I have a look round and take some photos'." I said.
"Go on!" said Joe, "I dare you!"
I rose to the bait, stopped the car, and walked up to the back door. The bell wasn't working and I very nearly walked away again, but I didn't - I knocked and eventually a man answered. I explained my mission. He said that he was just working there and went to fetch the lady of the house, and - to cut a long story short - she took us round to the front of the house to photograph the aspect we had previously only been able to see from across the fields between the graveyard and the vicarage.
We talked for a while, and she showed me the stable where Jenny (the pony who lay down in water to the great inconcvenience of the younger passengers in the pony trap who, whatever the weather, had to get out barefoot into the ford and encourage her out) lived, and where great-grandfather had his study away from the hubub of the house. I told her the story Nan told about the day she and Gwladys were due to have their photograph taken when she hid in the walnut tree which is why she is holding the piece of ivy to disguise the fact that her hands were terribly stained . . .
and she showed me the walnut tree.
I also photographed these box bushes one of which may be the one under which Nan used to hide when she wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
Finally, here is the whole family (except Gwladys who according to Nan decided to wash her hair rather than risk not being the centre of attention) in the garden on the occasion of oldest sister Bertha's (Sissy's) wedding to Herbert Mason.
Great-grandfather is easily identified, and great grandmother, Emily, is at the extreme right. The bridesmaid next to her is Florrie, and the little girl is Nan (Phyllis). The bridesmaid slightly behind the bride is Ethel. Archie, the oldest brother is the young clergyman behind the happy couple, and the other brothers are from left to right Percy, Harry, Frank and Cyril. So far as I know, the rest are members of the Mason family.
skip2468
Another of my petty comments
My late mother's maiden name was ' Jones '
Wouldn't it be terrible if we were distantly related ! lol