Roots and Dust

I've been researching my Irish roots lately.  They go back mainly to Dublin, Co. Cork and Co. Kilkenny, but also include other parts of Ireland.  It's been fascinating looking through my great-grandmother's scrap book in detail, searching for clues about what everyone was doing as they progressed through Tipperary, Waterford and so on. The book is huge and contains some lovely cards like this, in gold and green.  

Many of my ancestors are military, too, (and some are both Irish AND military.) In search of their service records, I visited the National Archives in Kew last week.  I'd never been there before and I liked it very much.  It's a huge building, and very pleasant and relaxed inside.

There were some curious artworks around the place. Here's part of a community art project called "Here Be Monsters." It's based on the Archive's historical map collection and comprises several lovely mosaic globes based on the archive's historic map collection. You'll see there are mermaids, fish and other objects which people once thought lived in unexplored parts of the world.  

They made a very good impression but on closer examination I was fairly baffled by some of them. I suppose this could be a sea slug of some kind?

                                                                          

The building's interior is decorated with stained glass and inlaid marble - and I wasn't quite sure what all of those decorations represented either. Any ideas?

So some mysterious art work - maybe I'll find out more information next time I go. The archive contains so much amazing stuff that I could easily spend another day there.

 My ancestors' involvement in various battles and wars abroad were a history lesson in themselves, and included several events I'd never heard of, such as the Fenian raids in Canada during the 1860s. Much of it was colonial service, and some of it very much at the  expense of the local people.  
 It is sad, but opportunities for most people were few, and those who joined the army probably preferred it to staying at home labouring in all weathers for a pittance or starving to death in the Irish famine. 

There's a nice cafe and small but excellent bookstore, mostly selling books that help you understand the past. I could have spent a fortune there but in the end, I narrowed it down to just one book - Raymond Postgate's "Verdict of Twelve,"  one of a series of reprinted vintage crime classics.  

The book goes easy on gory details (which suits me) and the unusual plot centres on the jury in a murder trial, and how the jury comes to its decision.   This by itself could be a bit dull, but Postgate has woven a baffling mystery into the jury's views and deliberations, and I literally had no idea what was going to happen until the very last page.   

It raised all sorts of questions about group psychology, and I thought it was so clever I wanted to buy another crime novel by Postgate. I found to my disappointment that he didn't stick with crime writing, and instead, went on to found The Good Food Guide, 

His son, Oliver Postgate went into television, though, and invented .... yes -  dear old Bagpuss.  Apologies to those of you who don't know it, but I always loved the introduction to this BBC children's programme. Today's TV seems a lot faster moving, though.  The programme would be half over before you've met all the characters each week, but perhaps children like that slowness and repetition. 

The weather's been weird. Have you been having odd weather? So many people have. I've just heard from someone in Hiroshima who's expecting a large and unseasonal typoon.  Here in the UK there was an amazing red sun and a weird orange twilight which descended while Hurricane Ophelia was devastating Ireland last week. The orange colour was apparently due to the winds having picked up a great deal of fine red sand.  

  Bizarre, isn't it? It felt a bit apocalyptic. 

Next day, I thought all would be back to normal, and went out for a walk on Hampstead Heath. But at about midday, a strange gloom descended once more. No orange tint this time, but don't you think this photo has a strange atmosphere? It isn't photoshopped.  

The time was about 1.30 PM, yet the ground was almost dark, and the rays spreading out from the sun did little to brighten the scene.  I guess sand was the culprit there, too. 

I've been breathing in fine dust from my next door neighbour's house repairs, too. Her workmen have been drilling out the mortar for 2 days and they don't seem to have the faintest idea of how to sheet the site off to stop gales of dust blowing all over us.  It creeps into the house even with the doors and windows closed so there's grit everywhere. 

I've raised it with the men and my neighbour, and they try to help, but nothing seems to work. I've had a cough for a few days, but perhaps I also picked up a bug. Anyway, feels like it's on the mend. I daresay my ancestors put up with much worse in the Crimean War!