Home at last

It's now Wednesday evening Oz time, and we have been home two and a half days. And this is my first few minutes on the computer. I have noted already that quite a few of you have emailed hoping we had a good journey home. Thank you for that. I will answer personally when I'm feeling a bit more on top of things.

It's good to be home, but we are so pleased we went. We had a ball.

Well, I'm sorry folks but your good wishes came to nought. Well, we did land safely, the flight was quick - half an hour early into Sydney - but arriving at 5 am meant that the airport staff who know what they are doing hadn't yet arrived for work. But more of that later.

I should have looked at my return ticket. We didn't come home via Singapore at all, rather Bangkok, which had its blessings (they are not as stringent with security as Singapore). It meant that whilst all the other passengers had to alight for 90 minutes, John and I were allowed to stay on the plane. Good thing, because we'd already had a horrendous transfer at Heathrow (yet again) with assistants who were very pleasant but completely untrained, no eagle lifter (unlike Sydney, Heathrow doesn't seem to have one) so they had to manually lift John. Also terminal four is designed without a lift to the tarmac from inside the security gate, so John couldn't stay in his own wheelchair.

Once on the flight, all proceeded well until two hours before reaching Sydney, when I (Margaret) had violent stomach pains and consequent vomiting which lasted 12 hours, and am only just coming right tonight. (Oddly enough, it was exactly the same as the bug that ruined my 60th birthday lunch last August at Manly). They had to cart me off the plane in a wheelchair. What a pretty sight we must have looked. But I didn't steal the limelight. There was a woman having a suspected heart attack on the flight. They called a quarantine officer in, checking I suppose that I didn't bring in SARS or equine flu (I was born on the horses' birthday after all), but she gave me the all clear.

Meanwhile, I was more concerned about John (being concerned about me, and fighting his own battles to get out of that damned airport chair). We (and I know that many of our wheelie friends have the same problem) cannot get it through their heads that sitting in chairs which don't suit, without a custom cushion, means skin problems and days or weeks in bed. Unlike our outward flight from Sydney, where all the equipment was available and the staff were superb, this time, they didn't even know what an eagle lifter was, let alone find it. And they nearly dropped John on the floor at the baggage carousel.

With all these disasters happening around us, we rang my sister and brother-in-law Kath and John and they came straight over and spent the rest of the day sorting us out (both car batteries were flat), bringing us essential items to keep us going, and visiting dad to let him know we were home. They were marvellous. We needed a new battery for the van. They had also kept our garden swept of leaves, tidied the garden and Kath even had the planter box at the front filled with pansies etc! So that was lovely.

But John's anxieties at the airport were justified. He has considerable skin problems and will need to spend a few days in bed, hopefully no more. We'll see.

So folks, this time next week, we will be back to work (me working on the ASCCA conference website), back to the computer club (both of us) and back to the same old, same old routine. But we are starting to laugh about the bad things - John keeps telling me he's planning to buy a motor home, and we'll need to lose half the front garden to accommodate it!

And the memories are just wonderful. John told his mate Ken, who he usually sees every Thursday that he has enough tales to tell for the next three months.

People will ask us what are the highlights, and we both say, meeting people who we've only known via the Internet to date. None disappointed us - quite the opposite. We were delighted to meet every one of them. We both met new cousins, some so distant that we'd have to say "cousins". Linda and Ange have become very special, and I got to know my cousin Ray and family much better too.

I will be putting up an album of all the people who made our trip so delightful, and will create a link from this blog. In the meantime, more photos will appear shortly. Keep looking for the next week or so at www.picasaweb.google.com/johnmoxon1

And apart from that? John would say our day in York. And I'd say stepping in the Cuckoo Inn at Hamptworth in Wiltshire where my Tuckers farmed and laboured, and going to the Cuckoo Festival at Downton with Linda and Peter. And seeing Bath.... and...

We've enjoyed sharing our travels with you, and receiving comments - you can still comment if you like! - and hope that some of you will consider doing the same whilst travelling.

Much love and warm wishes to you all.

Marg & John

Heathrow Airport

Our very last day in the UK. We are currently at Terminal 4, Heathrow Airport, where seemingly like every other airport in the world, lots of building activity is underway. Terminal 4 is very antiquated, with no lift to the plane from beyond the gates at the departure lounge, so John had difficulties with his wheelchair (yet again). We cannot go through into the secure area (with all the tempting shops and eating areas) until John is willing to give up his own chair, so we are stuck in the outside area with few facilities until an hour before departure.

We caught a taxi from the hotel at 3.15 pm, booked in at 5pm (when Qantas staff arrived) and our plane doesn't leave till 10.15 pm. This is the down side of travelling. Airports are tense places - will they mess up the wheelchair, will our luggage be overweight, how do we while away the hours....

Fortunately we have not been charged excess baggage fees, and were allowed to take a bigger bag than the prescribed size onto the plane. So that's been a relief.

I attempted to log into open access wireless broadband at the airport - it works at railway stations - but was not successful at Terminal 4. I imagine Terminal 5 has it, seeing that it is brand new. Never mind, our 3 broadband still works.

We are not looking forward to the flight home. We travel via Singapore, and many long distance travellers take the opportunity for a couple of days stopover, but we do not want to risk another opportunity for either wheelchairs (John's power chair and the commode) being damaged by yet another baggage off-load.

John just said "An hour till the next battle". They promised him just 10 minutes in a manual chair without his cushion, but we figure that with us having to meet the customer service staff for a transfer into the manual chair at 8.30 pm and the plane not leaving until 10.15pm they must be kidding!

We will be looking at our mail when we get home, and shutting our eyes to the state of our front garden, but after that SLEEP for a couple of days. Then we hope to meet our new neighbour - a new baby boy for Carmel and Ray - and give dad a belated birthday treat.

When we get home, we will still be adding some albums to the photo gallery, so keep looking.

It's been great to know that so many of our friends and family have been looking at the blogs and the albums. It has certainly been a way of keeping my dad in touch with us. He was 94 this week. My sister Kath prints off the blog and takes it over to him in his nursing home.

Demolishing the family Irish yarns

Today is our last full day in the UK, and we've spent it well, travelling by bus to Kew to the National Archives for some more family history research, and being treated to a pub dinner (very nice pub too) by a former girlfriend of one of John's sons when she was an English backpacker in Oz in 1990. She has fond memories of baked dinners at John's old place at Dundas, and has since learned to cook and like baked pumpkin.

John was looking for his gg grandfather George Fitzpatrick's record in the Irish Constabulary. He had to laugh, ruefully when he finally found it. On his great grandfather's death certificate in 1913, it stated that George was a superintendent of police. Far from it. He was a constable for 15 years, before he was dismissed!

So lesson number one. Never treat a death certificate as gospel!

I also found about 15 pages of my grandfather's World War 1 records. He was badly injured in France at the end of 1917 and spent the next 12 months in hospital in the Isle of Wight, and catching rheumatic fever whilst there. He didn't see active service again and died in April 1919.

This backed up my father's memory of going to visit him at the Isle of Wight in hospital as a small child. I thought he had confused the hospital with his final hospitalisation at Netley (the Military Hospital) before he died, but it seems not.

The quicker way to get to the National Archives - another modern and very efficient building - would have been by Tube, but we had to catch the bus instead, because they are wheelchair accessible. We've found London buses very easy to use.

We spent all day there, and could have spent much longer. We now have readers' tickets which last for three years, but I doubt we will have the chance to use them again.

We now have the worry of working out whether our bags will be overweight for the trip home. That's for another day. We don't have to check out of the hotel until 2 pm tomorrow, so that's a relief. Our flight is at 10 pm. Not looking forward to it.

Luxury at last

Yesterday, we delivered the motor home back to the depot near Derby, without drama and caught a train to London where they nearly left us on the train. A cleaner rescued us by phoning through to the customer service staff. The latter were most apologetic - they hadn't been informed by Derby station staff. However, this is the first problem we've had on the rail network - the InterCity trains are exceptional - customer service is far better than Sydney's urban link. However, Sydney is still better than the Tube. We can't catch any trains on the underground, because they have no ramps.

After arriving by taxi (30 pounds from St Pancras) at our hotel in Hammersmith and freshening up, we walked down to the Thames and across the Victorian (1889) Hammersmith Bridge. A beautiful bridge John A - you'd love it.

Then back to King Street Hammersmith for a British Beef Ale pie (delicious) at the pub next to the hotel and early to bed. (I was still looking for the ladder...)

This morning we waited in because Peter - bless his heart - drove up from Horsham with two of our bags. It would have been too difficult to take them up to Derby and back on the train. He stayed for a coffee, and then we caught a No 10 bus to Kensington Gardens, where John wanted to see the Albert Memorial.

Why the Albert Memorial? It is rather gross after all. The very worst of Victorian London taste. However, there is some folklore in John's family that his ancestor Joshua Middleton Moxon (1840-1894), a mason got into trouble for chipping off the nose of Albert and trying to cover it up. The story goes that he was advised to get lost or get into huge trouble with the Palace. So he emigrated to Australia with his wife Louisa and eldest son George. This was 1867. All the research we've done both about the family and about the building of the Albert Memorial suggests that this could have been true, but we've yet to see a written record. So who knows?

After posing for photos and taking some - especially of Albert's nose! - we wandered across Kensington Gardens to the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain - very pleasant - and then had some lunch on the banks of the Serpentine in Hyde Park where surprise surprise there was a planter box full of Australian natives.

Then back to our hotel because there is a storm coming. We've been lucky enough to have had a week of sunshine from Southampton, Horsham and up north.

Saying our farewells

We have just arrived in Banbury, where we will be saying farewell to my other second cousin Ray, his wife Trish and daughter Tracey with a night out at the pub. John has disappeared down to the village, since although he was here for nine days, he didn't so much as see the caravan park, let alone the village of Great Bourton - a lovely place - because he was so ill. He did see the inside of the local hospital for two days.

We spent yesterday with my newfound second cousin Linda (nee Tucker) and her family - the whole 10 of them, including her son and family who flew in from Qatar on Friday. Again, as it was in early May, we had a most enjoyable day. It was really sad to say goodbye to Linda, although she and her husband Peter are planning a trip to Australia in 2010. Peter is kindly driving up to Hammersmith with two of our bags on Thursday, so we don't have to lug them on the train from Derby to St Pancras. A real blessing.

Prior to arriving in Horsham on Saturday, we spent Friday evening at Ange and Paul's place in Totton, a suburb of Southampton, because their respective mothers wanted to meet us. What a laugh we all had. The two mothers have wicked senses of humour.

Did I tell you about Paul and Ange's car? Paul has an even higher level of spinal cord injury than John, and Ange was finding it very difficult to lift Paul (who is about a foot taller than John) in and out of her station waggon. So they decided to seek a vehicle through Motability, an organisation that provides (for a cost) vehicles for people with a physical disability. The deal is - you put up a deposit of 6000 pounds, and forfeit your 100 pounds a fortnight mobility allowance (which Paul is eligible for through Social Security) for five years. For that, they lease you a vehicle for the five years and pay all maintenance costs and road taxes. It's a great way to be independent, although of course it is often difficult finding the deposit of 6000 pounds. Paul and Ange took delivery three weeks ago of a Peugot, and find it marvellous. So easy for Ange to get Paul in and out. Did I tell you she provided a taxi service for John to go into Southampton and to their house and back for the evening. Much easier than trying to park this big motor.

Back to Southampton and the New Forest

We are spending four nights at Ower, a district just off the M27 (and don't we know it, with the traffic noise!). The site is well located for our purposes though - just 5-10 minutes from Totten where Ange and Paul live, and on the edge of the New Forest and seven miles from Fordingbridge.

After gathering our energy, Ange came round to the campsite on Wednesday, bringing her new Motorbility Peugeot (more about that later) and drove us both to the Old Cemetery at Southampton Common. This is where many of my ancestors are buried, including three generations of Tuckers. I found my grandfather Sydney George Tucker's grave (1919, aged 36) and the pot of chrysanthums, sadly full of weeds now that my cousin Linda had placed on the grave in February last year.

It was a bit tricky finding the graves, since being summer, there were many blackberries and other weeds to fight our way through. We couldn't find the other two graves, those of my great grandfather and great great grandfather, although Linda did last year, and sent us photos.

It was serendipitous though, because after we'd given up looking for the graves, Ange suddenly saw a grave of George Henry Rose, and said - isn't he one of yours? Indeed he was - another great great grandfather. I might have mentioned once that Ange is my 4th cousin, and his wife Hannah, also inscribed was her gggreat aunt! So how about that. Of course we had to get a photo of the two of us, and here it is.

That evening, we met up with yet another John Moxon, of Southampton - no relation that we can figure out - but he belongs to the Moxon Society and his passion - like John's - is VWs, so John had already contacted him a couple of years ago intrigued by the co-incidence of names. He and his wife Jacqui were great company. The two John Moxons posed in front of the other John's Karmen Ghia. Our John can only wish!

Yesterday (Thursday), Ange and her husband Paul arrived mid morning and we set off in convoy across the New Forest (avoiding the cows, calves, ponies and foals on the road) to Fordingbridge, where yet another of my great great grandmothers, Sophia Jefferis was born in 1836. Her mother's surname was Tiller, and some of them still live around there. We had lunch in a pub, after checking out the old church and taking lots of photos of the village, then visited a museum, entirely run by volunteers (aren't they all!).

I then wanted to visit Rockbourne, where a ggg grandmother - Hannah Isacc - was born. The lanes were very narrow between Fordingbridge and Rockbourne, and we held our breath in case a bus came, but none did.

Rockbourne is home to a Roman Villa, so we visited that and it was most interesting. Many of the mosaic floors can still be seen. It was discovered in 1942 when a farmer ploughed up a large shell which couldn't possibly come from there, and referred his find to a local real estate agent and antiquarian who of course purchased the land, which any good real estate agent would do!

So a long but happy day. Ange and Paul are great company. We will put some photos on the blog of course.

Later today we are going to Ange and Paul's for tea and meeting both their mothers. One is my dad's third cousin. (Don't you just love these relationships?) You need a genealogy software program to work them out.

National Trust treasures

For the past three days, we have been to three National Trust properties, where being a "carer" has been useful, for reduced fees. In fact John got in free at Bath as well as me.

We told you about going to Lacock Abbey on Sunday. On Monday (yesterday) we caught the train from Chippenham to Bath and return (again, no dramas), and spent a few hours walking around this small city and viewing the Roman Baths and having a leisurely lunch in the park. John preferred York as a city - he found Bath just too touristy (and of course we added to it). I didn't mind because I was really, really impressed with the Roman Baths. We couldn't go to much of it, which was why we both got in for free. However, we could look down on the baths and it really is amazing to think that Jane Austen saw the same view. I would have liked to have followed Jane's footsteps around Bath, but we didn't have the time. It's the sort of place you can spend a week of course.

After filling up with groceries at Melksham, we drove to Trowbridge, where we had arranged to meet John's VERY distant cousin Ed Moxon (I think they share an ancestor in 1717). Ed is the project manager (voluntary) for the DNA project of the Moxon Society. After John had his DNA tested (on 43 markers on the Y chromosome, so only male Moxons can be tested), Ed found that John's DNA matched that of others (including himself) who were decended from John Moxon/Moakson born 1717 in Silkstone, Yorkshire.

Ed is a Lieutenant Colonel (at 45) in the British Army, posted to Salisbury and has some interesting observations about Iraq, to which we wouldn't disagree.

So last night, having enjoyed yet another delightful Indian meal, we drove home in the dark for the very first time. That is hard to do at the moment, because it doesn't get dark until nearly 10 pm. It's great.

The Wiltshire Family History Centre (Records Office) opens Tuesday-Saturday only, and is based in Chippenham, north of our campsite. So we spent the morning there, looking for our Tucker ancestors' wills. I was really pleased to find two wills and an application for guardianship for my direct ancestors who had been left parentless before the age of 21.

The building is new - purpose built - so it is very efficiently laid out and of course fully wheelchair acessible. We were most impressed.

We ate our lunch in the van in the carpark and then travelled south to a campsite at Ower, just north of Southampton, where I want to see my dear friend and distant cousin Ange again.

But on the way, we stopped at Stonehenge, which I'd never managed to visit on my previous three trips. It was well worth the visit. Like the Roman Baths, the National Trust gives headphones so we could listen to a full description. For once, we heard a number of Australian accents. Including a family from Blacktown. Mostly, our trip has been to places that are not the must sees for Australians in a hurry.

John reckons that the mystical powers of Stonehenge don't work - he still can't walk!

Photo requests from our readers!

John Lee and Julie & Ian asked to see photos of inside the motor home, and Hazel and Peter both asked for some photos of pubs, so we have put together two albums on both those topics. You can check them out by clicking the link to our photo gallery in the links section above this blog.

We didn't get to Bath today - maybe tomorrow. However, we walked down to the village of Lacock. What a gem. It is the setting for many films - including the Mayor of Casterbridge, Emma, Pride and Prejudice and yes, even the first two Harry Potter movies.

The Harry Potter movies were partly filmed in the cloisters of the Lacock Abbey, and that kept all the kids happy whilst touring this National Trust site. It was most interesting, and in the early 1800s was the ancestral home of William Henry Fox Talbot, the father of photography. What an interesting and bright lad he was. He became a Fellow of the Royal Society at the ripe old age of 33, a member of Parliament, a founder of the Royal Horticultural Society and an inventor to boot. Some people are definitely at the head of the queue when God handed out talent and silver spoons.

Cardiff - a surprising city

We've just spent three VERY pleasant days in Cardiff, visiting a good friend John Hyde, who lives in Sydney but has been working for the Welsh Assembly Government (WAG) for 12 months, writing a housing strategy. It was great to catch up with him.

And somehow, not even knowing where in Cardiff he lived, the caravan park we chose was just two blocks from his home! So he was able to visit as soon as we arrived and was a great host. We went to his local pub for tea on Wednesday evening. The drinks cost more than the dinner!

I'd never thought of Cardiff as a tourist must, but I've changed my mind completely. It's a lovely city. We were able to walk through a vast 300 acre park which had belonged to the Bute family, which made its fortune from coal. (I can't help thinking though of all those eight year olds down the pits in those days). The Bute family had bought Cardiff Castle and later generations gave the property to the people of Cardiff. We had a most pleasurable lunch in the castle grounds, on a very pleasant sunny day.

After lunch I went off shopping and to the hairdressers whilst the lads went sightseeing down to the Cardiff Bay. They toured the new Millenium Centre, which is Cardiff's version of the Sydney Opera House. They had two guides who were intrigued to hear about the problems with acoustics and access at our opera house.

Afterwards, I caught a train to the Bay and we went to a wonderful Indian restaurant. The food lived up to its reputation. We were careful to not order too much, but we still couldn't eat it all.

The long day's journey from Ireland on the Wednesday had taken its toll on John (and on me too) so John had a day in bed to rest his legs which keep swelling up. My bones were aching from lots of driving and walking so I did no more than walk into town to check out accomodation on the internet at the library. An hour's browsing was free. Some places charge, but not Cardiff. Fortunately I now have broadband back again on the laptop, having paid another month's subscription.

For those interested, a "3" modem cost us 69 pounds, and on top of that we paid ten pound a month, which for us heavy users wasn't quite enough, and I kept having problems. I have now upgraded to a 15 pound plan (for a month). It is good for travellers. You just stick the modem into the USB drive, having made sure you put the chip in correctly! That was also a problem at one stage. Vouchers for the modem (or internet phone) can be purchased just about anywhere, such as TESCO supermarkets.

This morning, John Hyde came around to wave us goodbye, and we set off for Trowbridge in Wiltshire. Another genealogy enthusiast from Hampshire had informed me about an open day being held by the Wiltshire Family History Society at the civic hall. The drive across was an easy one, straight down the motor way, and we arrived in time to meet my internet contact, Rodney and to spend three hours browsing and researching. I am now a proud member of the Wiltshire Family History Society and the Hampshire Genealogical Society. It was a great opportunity to gain advice and to look at microfiche of village baptisms and burials for areas of interest.

We also booked into a caravan park in Lacock, a village between Chippenham (where the Wiltshire Record Office is located) and Trowbridge. The village - which we haven't seen as yet - is the backdrop for many a movie including the Jane Austen films. So that is a must. We are also only 14 miles from Bath, so our plan tomorrow is to catch a train from Chippenham to Bath. We'll see if it can be done!

Till then. Only 14 more days and we'll be on the plane home. We'll have a new neighbour by then. Carmel and Ray at number 30 are expecting a second bubba this week, so we are sending them special thoughts this week.

More about Ireland

Our last blog mentioned our dash to Cork to obtain more gas, and so far it hasn't run out again and we are back in the UK where the gas fittings aren't a problem and we can simply exchange bottles. So be warned if you ever take a caravan or camper to Ireland!

After a night in Cork, we decided to go back north to Corrofin, because we simply hadn't finished exploring and photographing it. They were surprised to see us back. But we are glad we did, because after chatting to a couple of locals, we wrote two letters to members of the Fitzpatrick family to whom we think John is related.

The next day was long and tiring driving. We decided to go to the Cliffs of Moher on the west coast. The scenery is quite varied between Corrofin and the west coast. Our photos can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com.au/JohnMoxon1/CliffsOfMoher

Whilst we were looking at a dolmen - an ancient burial site which looks like a smaller stonehenge - we saw a paraplegic dog using a doggy version of a wheelchair. It was so funny. The dog was enjoying itself. There is a photo on the link above.

After that, we travelled to Killaloe, a lovely lakeside town in East Clare and spent Sunday wandering around. We found the street where our George Fitzpatrick owned a house in 1855, and imagined him as a police officer in town. He would not have been popular. It was just after the potato famines and the constabulary were seen as the puppets of the English landlords.

On Sunday afternoon we headed for Limerick where we wanted to visit Galbally, set in a beautiful valley just below Tipperary. We found an old farm where we think John's great grandfather was born. It was totally derelict, and very sad to see. There are still some people with the same name in the village, but two were in a nursing home in a bigger town and the old lady was very suspicious of strangers and even people she'd known for many years, so we didn't want to worry her. I think she was in her nineties. They are the last of the Quaine family so we were told.

And then south though Waterford to the coast, and finally to the ferry on Wednesday morning. We didn't visit the Waterford Crystal Works unfortunately. Just couldn't fit everything in.

We were sorry to leave Ireland. We just loved it. The people were so friendly, the country was astonishly beautiful, the accents were beautiful to listen too and the pace was laid back. But funnily enough it appears to be a much more prosperous country overall than England. I'd been to Ireland for a few days in the early 70s and at that stage it was far from prosperous.

The ferry trip to Pembroke from Rosslare was somewhat more rough, since the weather had turned windy. We had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the ferry but arrived in plenty of time, only to find they'd waved us nearly onto the wrong ferry! But all was well.

And so to Cardiff. Next post. We are here for three nights.

Finding John's great great grandfather George Fitzpatrick

Well, it's been another one of those weeks. Worn out (me with driving and leap-frogging the wheelchair and John with bouncing up and down over all the bumps with poor suspension and predicting my every move), and yet lots of pleasurable moments as well. The scenery is magnificent. Reminds me of the south coast of NSW, but with lots of ruins thrown in.

After leaving Dublin on Saturday, we drove to Hodson Bay near Athlone (a lakeside town) in the very middle of the island. We stayed two nights simply because we were so tired. The caravan park was run by a very old man with severe scoleosis and parkinson's disease and his wife who seemed to be in the first stages of short term memory loss. Like other farmers they turned part of their acreage into a caravan park, and seem to be doing very well. Lots of turnover of vans. But it was very hard for the old man to get around, even though he insisted on showing us everything.

I couldn't help wondering what life on a dairy farm was like 40-50 years ago when he probably started. It was probably tough. Ireland is now very prosperous, and appears much more so that England, where the prosperity is blatant at one end, but people are really struggling at the other end of the scale.

The roads are better than in England as well. Lots of double lane roads, and even the minor roads are better, although still very narrow compared to Australia. But today (Thursday) we've been plagued with tractors ahead of us. Like flies...

John found a large eucalyptus tree growing on the side of the road when he decided to wheel half a mile ahead of me at Hodson Bay. Most surprised. Maybe people slipped a seedling in their pocket when they returned. I just read that a trial conducted in Ireland 30 years ago suggested that 37 species out of 102 eucalypts would be suitable for growing in Ireland. So how about that!

And then to Corrofin where we thought that John's Fitzpatrick side came from. Corrofin is a very small place of the main routes but has a good range of services and a nice caravan park in the centre of the village. We discovered that St Katherine's church (Church of Ireland) is now a Museum and we couldn't get into it because of steps. We found some Fitzpatrick gravestones, and we think they are related but can't be sure. All circumstantial at this stage, with similar family names. Only about 5% of the population was Church of Ireland and many other Fitzpatricks in other places were Catholic of course.

We went to the Corrifin Genealogical Society which is well know, but were extremely disappointed with their services. It would be hard to find a more aggressive woman, who launched straight in to an inquisition without so much as a hello and how are you. Very different from our experience at home with the Heritage Centre and the Mormon's Family History Centre. She was simply hoping to sell us a full research service, and there was no opportunity to do any of our own research there. No computers, no public microfiche - nothing. Just lots of jealously guarded records and paid researchers. She did say however, that the records were available elsewhere.

So the next day we went into Ennis, the County town just 13 kilometres away and our experiences there over two days could not have been more different. The library staff were very pleasant and helpful, and the local history librarian, who occupies an old Manse next door was extremely helpful and full of initiative. He then sent us to the Births, Deaths and Marriages and again, we found an extremely helpful public servant.

We found more Fitzpatrick grave records (but not our George), and then miracle of miracles, we found three death certificates. One was for the William we found in grave yard (we THINK he could have been George's oldest son), one for George himself in 1902 and one for his wife (Ho)Norah Fitzpatrick (1884).

The latter two were most enlightening. George had been a policeman (and we have yet to establish his service record) but it appears he was the Church of Ireland sexton in Corrofin. We knew that he was living aged 87 as a retired widower in the village itself in 1901 (census), but the sad thing is that he died in the workhouse. And that is why we couldn't find him buried in the churchyard where he worked for so many of his later years. Because workhouse residents were buried in the graveyard of the workhouse. That is so sad.

We can imagine - an 87 year old widower living alone - no relatives in the village (the other Fitzpatricks were farmers) - and getting too old to look after himself in his last year of life. No such thing as community services. The only services available were at the workhouse. And in the workhouse, there was no dignity.

Ennis, the County town was a most impressive town. We loved it. Friendly people, a nice pub for lunch, nice old ruins. And one day with great weather, which helps too.

And then to this morning. John said: "I think we have a problem". And sure enough, we were out of gas. We don't think it was filled properly the other day, because it was a different company's gas, and they did say they had trouble.

Apart from Dublin, the only other place to get a refill of Calor gas was in Cork, three hours south. And we had a deadline to get there. Fortunately we rang ahead and found out closing times and exactly where they were. Now filled up, but what a stressful day. We were both so tired.

But after a good three hours sleep, I turned on the computer, and low and behold, we have wireless broadband connection! Hence this blog.

We only have six more nights in Ireland and we're running out of time. We've missed the west coast - we had wanted to go to Dingle Peninsular.

And in spite of Peter's urging, we won't be having a Murphy's or a Guinness. John doesn't drink and I can't stand beer or stout! We've passed plenty of their trucks and pubs though. The only time we go to a pub is for lunch or the occasional tea. They do good lunches.

Till next time. Thanks for the comments on the last blog. There were six!

Rush, near Dublin

Hello friends.

You might have noticed that we've now put a link to our photos above these blogs to make it easier for you to check out our latest photos.

I'm writing this with the beach at our front door (the driver's seat) at a little town just over an hour's bus journey to Dublin. We spent the day there yesterday, and saw the Book of Kells at Trinity College, and the Long Room, the magnificent old library with many many 14th-15th century manuscripts.

We had lunch at a pub in O'Connell Street (their George Street) and wandered around the old town. Dublin now has a huge spire, 3 metres in diameter at the bottom, and almost needle sharp at the top. It is 120 metres high. It replaces the Nelson Column which was blown up in 1966. Wonder why?

Funny thing, we were told yesterday that the Irish don't go to Spain for the sun, because that's where the English go. Some Scots chuckled when I repeated that yesterday. The Irish prefer Greece apparently.

We'd been told that all the buses in Dublin were wheelchair accessible. But guess what? That's right - the bus we aimed to catch wasn't. So we waited another hour for a bus, and luckily both it and the return bus were OK. John got his hair cut in the meantime. What a shock. He got a number 2 (I generally give him a number 3) and if you'd seen him before, after 8 weeks without a cut, most of you wouldn't have recognised him.

Since our arrival on Tuesday, by Irish Ferries, the weather hasn't been kind to us, although brighter yesterday, and good this morning (Saturday). Hope it stays that way.

We are camped next to some very friendly Aussies from Woodford - our first Aussies. There are many Dutch, Germans, a smattering of English here. In England it was many more English at the caravan parks - most of whom had close relatives in Australia.

The Irish accent is gorgeous. There are many young women with dark brown (almost black) hair with pale complexions and blue eyes. A very nice combination of features. Not as many red heads as I expected.

We've had trouble obtaining gas. The fittings in Ireland are different (no one warned us) and we spent all day Wednesday looking for gas. There are only two places in Ireland which refill it now. One in Dublin, the other in Cork! And the one in Dublin is only open for 2.5 hours in the morning! We ended up getting some 60 kms north, strictly not allowed! But they felt sorry for us.

We are off to Athlone in the middle of the country now. Just an overnight stop on our way to Corrofin in County Clare where we think John's Fitzpatrick gg grandfather is buried.

A day in York

Yesterday, after that dreadful day's driving on Thursday, I crawled back into bed after I'd made the early morning cup of tea, and stayed there until 11 am. Not like me, but I just couldn't function after that drive. So it was 2 pm before we got going. John was also feeling under the weather, so I just went for a walk into the local village, Ulleskelf where John's great great grandmother said she was born.

She was baptised in the church in the neighbouring village, Kirkby Wharfe (on the Wharfe River which flows into the River Ouse at York) and married Isaac Moxon from Silkstone there. We don't know how on earth they met, because each place is a long way from the other. Did she have relatives in Silkstone? There were some Middletons' there, and one married a Robinson which is also a family connection. We will probably never know.

Whilst investigating the village, to my surprise I found that the railway station was wheelchair friendly, so I suggested that we catch the morning train to York today. Whilst it is 17 miles away by windy road, it is much closer by train. And that's what we did, without a hitch. The trains carry ramps, which is what they should do on all trains in NSW.

York is a very interesting city and having been in small villages and towns for so many weeks, we weren't quite prepared for the crowds. It was race day, and being another glorious day there were many locals out and about as well as seemingly thousands of tourists like us. The school children have had a mid-term break so lots of English families too. Many groups of German and French tourists. As well as university students and serious looking academic types.

We spent about four hours wandering around looking at the York Minster, the gardens by the River Ouse, the Shambles and the large Saturday markets. Then back to Ulleskelf by train and a drive to Kirkby Wharfe and then to Ryther - both extremely small villages - to see the two churches where the Middletons were baptised and married from at least the late 1600s to the 1850s. John's ancestor Sarah Middleton was born there in 1804 and married from there in 1836. We couldn't find any gravestones unfortunately.

So another long and interesting day. I topped it off by going to the bar at the caravan park (it is located with a house that has a inn licence) for a gin and tonic - just one, whilst John had an early night. It is now nearly 10 pm and I have a long day's drive to Holyhead tomorrow so better finish up. Till next time.

It's been great to get your comments. We won't have broadband in Ireland unless we go to Northern Ireland (June 3-18) so we may not be able to blog. We'll see.

Meeting the other John Moxon

Thursday was a day of contrasts. A dreadful day's driving, although the scenery was wonderful. I think we must have been in the Yorkshire dales. It was very hilly anyway, lots of narrow windy roads through villages and towns with traffic lights. Including Bradford.

We seemed to take forever to get from Bingley to Tadcaster, probably because we didn't obey Jane's instructions. Jane is our SAT NAV (satellite navigation system) and she is very insistent, and has got us out of many scrapes, but gets us into some too by sending us through very narrow streets with lots of cars parked any which way on the side of the road.

English drivers however, are very polite and patient, probably because they'd always be beating each other up otherwise. The roads are a disaster, being so narrow. We will never suggest anyone hire a motor home in the UK! I don't know how lorries manage.

So I was exhausted by the time we arrived at Ulleskelf near Tadcaster. We had two one and a half hour drives with a fabulous lunch in between, so it doesn't sound too bad, but it was. Give me a motorway any day.

But back to the lunch. I'd met a Betty Moxon on the Internet, and she sounded so nice and friendly and amusing that we had no hesitation in accepting an invitation to look her up - and her husband, another John Moxon - when we were passing through Yorkshire. And we weren't disappointed.

Betty and John Moxon live in a tiny hamlet called Ryecroft, near the village of Harden (nothing like ours in NSW) near Bingley, west Yorkshire. Haworth, the home of the Bronte sisters is just across in the next valley. They have a stunning view from their totally renovated miners' cottages (three joined together) on the side of a valley overlooking Harden. And it was a glorious day. The two Johns exchanged their potted life stories. It turned out that all four of us had gained degrees as mature age students, Betty in teaching and John in Opera. I didn't know there were degrees in Opera, but apparently so. He did it by distance education after retirement. Interesting fellow. Like us, they have five grandchildren.

The two Johns, as I said on the photo album at http://picasaweb.google.com.au/JohnMoxon1/RyecroftHamletHarden29May2008
are related through a common ancestor born in 1751 (Joshua Moxon of Silkstone).

The photos tell it all. Glorious country. They have a north facing conservatory in which they can sit and watch the snow swirling in winter. However, they don't get the sort of snow they used to get. Climate change in action. They used to get 20 foot drifts, but now only six inches.

We travelled from their place to Whitecote Caravan Park in Ulleskelf, near Tadcaster where John's great great grandmother Sarah Middleton was born. More in the next post.

Silkstone, near Barnsley

We woke up this morning to thick fog - difficult to see the other side of the small campsite here at Ingbirchworth. However, after some handwashing (there is no washing machine on site), we drove to Silkstone, the village where many of John's ancestors lived up to five hundred years ago.

Silkstone has a church (All Saints) in a stunning setting, built in the 12th century, and added to in the 14th century. We were lucky enough to meet up with a couple of very friendly parishioners, and one of them opened up the church for us and gave us a guided tour for about an hour. Whilst John stayed chatting, I wandered around the churchyard looking for Moxon graves, but couldn't find any. However, I did find some Hattersley graves. Mary Hattersley of Silkstone was one of John's 3rd great grandparents, married to Joshua Moxon (b 1751).

Hattersley is still a big name in Silkstone, a village of between 4000-5000, around 6 miles from Barnsley.

We then had lunch at a very well appointed restaurant in a renovated water mill, part of a plant nursery and gift shop at Pot House Hamlet, right near All Saint's Church at Silkstone. The site has been productive since the 17th century, largely due to the Silkstone Beck, (creek). It was the first glassworks of its kind in Europe. In the 18th century a pottery took over the site. Later the site became a water mill and blacksmith.

When we got back to the campsite, we had to be rescued by another camper because we got bogged trying to position the motor home. Rain is now pounding down. There is nothing more dreary than sitting in a motor home with the rain pounding on the roof, looking out at drystone walls which are now soaking wet. Or perhaps there is - sitting on the drystone wall with the rain pounding down might be a tad more depressing. But only a tad mind you.

Our Silkstone web album can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnMoxon1/SilkstoneNearBarnsley

Tomorrow we head north through a hamlet called Ryecroft where we will meet a Betty Moxon, who is married to a John Moxon who is a decendant of the Joshua Moxon and Mary Hattersley mentioned earlier. Another relative found by internet. Ain't it wonderful!

And then we head for a village near Tadcaster (Kirkby Wharfe) where John's great great grandmother was born (Sarah Middleton) and where she and Isaac Moxon were married. No washing machine there either, the socks are beginning to pong (just joking).

Grenoside on second attempt

Yesterday - Sunday - we managed to get to Grenoside, this time very easily by motor home. A bit tricky in the village itself - getting stuck in a dead end - but eventually we found the community centre and plenty of parking.

We felt we might just as easily be in Dubbo, at the Seniors Expo! It had the same feeling. The community centre was very similar to our centres and lots of interesting seniors to talk to. The Grenoside Family History Group is a VERY well organised group, and obviously full of energetic people (just like Parramatta Computer Pals for Seniors) who contributed a lot of work to making the exhibition a success. Lots of pre-computer displays on boards - very well researched - but also people who ran a website and helped out with email queries.

Grenoside itself is situated so close to Sheffield city but surprisingly is still a village. Like Penistone, our nearest town, the commercial operators like Sainsburys haven't got there yet. Just one little corner store and a few pubs. Have a look at our gallery of photos.

Today - a bank holiday - is wild and windy so we are having a lazy day.

John might add to this blog, but this is all for now. Thanks for the comments folks. Keep them up.

Ingbirchworth, near Penistone, South Yorkshire

We are currently camped at a farmyard caravan park, somewhat primitive, but the most interesting caravan park yet. It is owned and operated by a 79 year old farmer who reckons like others that you can't make a quid out of farming these days. Mind you, he's sitting on a gold mine, but only if he can develop it somehow.

The farm is in the middle of the "old village" made up of five farms, dating back to the 12-1400s. Many of the buildings have been gentrified, and the main road to Huddersfield is full of people who have moved out of towns such as Barnsley and Sheffield.

We've been able to leave the motor home at the caravan park and catch a small wheelchair accessible bus run by Sheffield Community Transport to Penistone, a dour but architecturally interesting market town of 5000 where we can connect with buses to the larger metropolis of Sheffield and also Barnsley.

Yesterday we tried to find our way to Grenoside, a suburb of Sheffield where John's ggrandfather Joshua Middleton Moxon was born. His father was an innkeeper there in 1840. We don't know which of the three inns in the original village unfortunately. The Grenoside Family History Group is holding a two day exhibition at the Community Centre.

Unfortunately, despite the bus driver's best efforts, and indeed John contacting five taxi companies, we were unable to get a connection from Chapeltown, where the bus driver left us to Grenoside. None of the buses to Grenoside were wheelchair accessible and none of the taxi companies had a suitable taxi on the road or in the area.

So we were stuck in Chapeltown, which is quite a depressing place, but fortunately we found a pub which had a great menu, and then found our way home again, via two buses. We are getting to know the operator of the small community bus very well. The bus goes on a loop through extremely beautiful farming country, through small oldy worldy villages with extensive development on its edges and then past sheep and cattle farms with barns dating back to the 1500s, contrasting with wind farms and reservoirs.

So we will try again today, being Sunday and more opportunity to park the motor home somewhere.

We had been told that we would have to do without power over the bank holiday weekend (Saturday and Sunday nights), but the old farmer seems to like us (he gave us a book of yarns about the district) and he's very laid back. When we asked when we should move the motor home, he just said "She'll be right" and when we ask when he'd like us to pay, he said "Later". Very laid back. It's only seven pound a night here. Mostly around 14-18 pound per night.

Donington Park - home to a great Formula 1 collection

John was in his element yesterday, spending hours in a private museum which is an absolute treasure trove of formula one racing cars, going right back to a 1903 mercedes grand prix car (they were'nt called formula one back then.

I spent about one third of the time there, the rest in the coffee shop! Along with most wives and partners according the to cafe manager. John wished he had son Bruce or mate Ken with him to discuss the races and the technical specifications.

We rounded off our four day stay in this caravan park with a meal at the Shardlow Marina pub. Two huge meals for a tenner, which is great value. They make up by charging a fortune for drinks, which didn't bother us one little bit.

Our photos of Shardlow are now on our photo gallery at http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnMoxon1/ShardlowDerbyshire

Today we set off for Penistone in the foothills of the Peak District, halfway between Sheffield and Barnsley, where John's Moxon ancestors lived for 300-400 years.

Shardlow Marina, off the M1 near Derby

We arrived here on Sunday after spending the afternoon on the M1 - not so tricky really for us Sydneysiders. I much prefer driving the motorways to the narrow country roads through villages, with cars parked any which way on the sides of roads, or narrow hedged roads with no passing spaces. No wonder most English people drive small cars. Mind you, petrol is about $3 per litre, so that would be another reason!

As you know our itinerary has changed considerably. If you scroll right to the bottom of this blog, you will find a calendar.

Yesterday we spent half a day back at the motor home hirer's depot getting a few things fixed and checked out. I have a bedside reading lamp at last, and we had the tail light fixed.

The Marina we are camped at has many moored canal long boats. We showed you some of these at Banbury. There is a vast network of canals and locks throughout the midlands.

We are spending four nights here, before heading for Sheffield. It has been very cold - 13C maximum for the past few days, but we have had a share of sunshine. Starts off brilliantly blue whilst we are getting the courage to get out of bed, then goes steadily overcast during the day.

Cheerio for now.

Margaret & John

Hertfordshire

Well, it was good to find comments from three members at the Computer Club just now. John Lee also reported that the meeting went well, and members were able to view the blogsite and photos. That's great. Seems you haven't forgotten us either.

Well, after a lot of trial and error, we are back on wireless broadband. There were two problems - one was that the motor home isn't too conducive to wireless broadband reception. Fortunately the modem came with an extension lead, so I have been able to put it out the window. Mind you, it's freezing outside, so there's a bit of a draft. Secondly, it pays to put the sim card in properly! We were fortunate at the last caravan park at Horsham to have unlimited free access to a wireless network. Not so here at Hoddesdon in Hertfordshire.

We left Horsham on Thursday morning, after a great night out with Linda (Tucker) and her husband Peter who have been great fun to meet. I love them dearly, and we all got on very well. Fortunately Linda "gets" John's sense of humour.

Having not had the opportunity to visit Ightham in Kent, we decided to do so on the way to Hertfordshire. It was only a little over an hour from Horsham, but unfortunately it was miserably wet, and got worse during the day and forever after (it is now Saturday).

John stayed in the motor home whilst I made a beeline for the pub in the small village of Ightham where my maternal grandmother Kitty (Kate Elizabeth Palmer)and great grandmother Annie Ashby were born. Fortunately they had a map and I found the places I needed to explore. It was great to go to the church where my ancestors were married and baptised and to see the farm where my great grandmother was born.

We drove through streets which no motor home should traverse (so narrow and no passing spots - just breath deeply and hope for the best) to see the Ightham Common where my great great grandparents lived with my grandmother.

We then drove to Seal, the next village, close to Sevenoaks which is a bigger town in West Kent that may be better known to some of you. Seal was larger than Ightham, which is off the main roads, but even prettier. There are now photos of both on Johns Photo Gallery.

I was able to brighten up the photos, thanks to Picasa! The day was very grey.

From Seal, we found our way back to the A25, the ring road around London, which is the only toll road we have experienced. We paid a pound to travel through the Dartford Tunnel under the Thames on our way to Hoddesdon. I thought that was very cheap compared to the M2!!

However, I was not impressed with the A25 leading to the tollgate. Bumper to bumper (mostly stopped) for three miles before the tunnel. And surrounded by huge trucks coming from Europe and heading north.

Surprisingly, that is our only experience of traffic worse than Sydney. Even in peak hour (rush hour), which we usually avoid the traffic is no worse. Our main problem is squeezing the motor home through narrow streets, and even on minor A roads like the A27 in Hampshire. And parking! What a nightmare. Mostly I suppose because we don't know the towns. In villages we have to park on the curb, and hope cars can squeeze past. There are many places where there is nothing between a hedge and the road.

We arrived in Hoddesdon on Thursday evening, and it was VERY tiring driving. John was not well again, so went back to bed whilst I walked into town via a public footpath - along a lane, over the railway line, through a private field with horses and into a housing estate and through to the High Street. A real short cut and pretty as well. Coming home I stuck to the roadway and wished I hadn't. The footpaths were narrow and non-existent (I had to keep crossing the road), I had to walk through a highly industrialised area and it was twice as lengthy.

However, today (Saturday)despite the weather - 15 degrees, grey with constant showers, we drove into Hoddesdon and went to the library as well as looked at the High Street. No coffee shops for John to access. All had steps. Hoddesdon is a rather "left behind" town, and although it has a Sainsbury's supermarket, it does not have a modern arcade with shops with level access, such as .

At the library we had a bit of luck. We found information about John's 4th great grandfather, one George Cheffins born in 1739 and his career as a joiner. He was reputed to have built a staircase in one of the big houses. His grandson, Caius Cheffins was bailiff to the Marquess of Salisbury in the early 1800s.

So John has a history of skilled artisans in his family, either joiners, builders or masons. He reckons he's married beneath him, since I can only find agricultural labourers, and a yeoman in those pre-industrial times.

Keep those comments coming in. We do appreciate them, from family, old friends and our many new friends at the computer club. Thanks Judy, John, Hazel and Peter for your comments.

Glued to the campsite in Barns Green

Well, we've slowed right down. We've had two attempts at driving to Kent for the day, but are either too weary or feeling crook for the third day in a row. We leave here tomorrow, and hopefully will call into Ightham, Kent on our way to Lea Valley (Hoddesdon, Hertfordshire) tomorrow.

We are having a pub tea with Linda and Peter tonight.

Cheerio for now. Margaret
PS We will be thinking of you all at the computer club on Friday. Why not put a comment or two on the blog. Hazel Labka has done so, and it is always great to hear how our blog is being received.

Horsham and London - glorious weather

Today we are having a rest day at the Caravan Park at Barns Green outside Horsham where my cousin Linda lives. We are staying here eight nights, and will visit Ightham in Kent (where my mother’s family hail from) tomorrow.

On Saturday, we spent a delightful day with Linda (Tucker) and her husband Peter Harrison live. We met a couple of their friends (also Margaret & John) and Linda’s older son Dave, his wife and three children aged 7, 4 and 2. We had brought over some Australian books for the kids, and these were very well received, especially the travel picture book of Australia called Are We There Now? Sound familiar?

Like Ray and Trish in Banbury, and Ange in Southampton, Linda and Peter have been most welcoming and helpful. Things always seem to go wrong with the van or John’s wheelchair, and this time it was the ladder to the top bunk and the bedside lamp. Being without a working ladder could have been disastrous.

Yesterday we arose early and caught the 10.04 train from Horsham to London Victoria, where we met Lisa and Jereon, an English/Dutch couple. Lisa was a backpacker journalist in Sydney in 1999, and John supervised her work at the Physical Disability Council of Australia. She stayed with us for the first two weeks in Australia, and then travelled for a year prior to going to New Zealand.

Lisa has since married Jereon, a Dutchman she met in Australia, and they took us on a walking tour of Buckingham Palace, Westminster and the Thames embankment. Due to the brilliant weather (28 degrees and very sunny) there were masses of tourists around, and especially near the London Eye. There was a lot of entertaining street theatre as well. A wonderful day yet again, but exhausting.

However, John is now well over his medical problems, and is now simply dealing with tiring days, as am I. It still takes us four hours to get ready in the mornings due to the constrained space within the motor home. Nothing we can do about that really. We have become as efficient as possible, but no way around it, due to John's lack of independence, even to turn over in bed by himself. (It ain't like home).

Hamptworth and Landford - our Tucker agricultural labourers

Last Tuesday, we spent some time exploring Hamptworth and Landford, the villages near Downton where my Tuckers were agricultural labourers in the early 1800s. I have posted some photos at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/JohnMoxon1/HamptworthWiltshire , mostly of the Cuckoo Inn, where doubtless my great great great grandfather (1805-1886) and his sone George (1832-1914) would have partaken of an ale or two, and also some of Landford where there was a John Tucker, yeoman, farmer of four properties between 1735-1812 and presumably his father also John Tucker who was a village constable in 1736 at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/JohnMoxon1/LandfordWiltshire

I am still trying to link John Tucker of Landford with my Tuckers. I suspect he was my William Tucker (1730s-1784)'s brother.

In the evening we went to Totten in Southampton, where we were invited to dinner by Ange & Paul and Ange's sister Ali, who is over from Florida where she lives, but is constantly travelling with her businessman husband. Luckily he is working in the UK at the moment, so she sees a lot of her sister. We entertained them in Sydney last December. We had a very enjoyable evening there. We will put some pictures up soon.

On Wednesday we set off for Horsham, and avoided the motorway, which would have been quicker. We travelled via the A272 instead, and it was very pretty. We stopped for refreshments at one of the myriad of old pubs on the side of the road.

We are still rather unnerved by the narrow roads, and unfortunately, I scraped the side of the motor home on the A36, due to a commercial truck being illegally parked with his side leaning into the road - on a curve - and I had nowhere to go. There was oncoming traffic. I thought I'd avoided him, but I was more conscious of the bottom of the van than the top, and so I came off worse for wear. We have taped the worst of it up with gaffer tape (what would we be without it) but bang goes our extra deposit we paid in case of such eventualities. (These motor home hirers ain't stupid!).

Southampton, Downton, Salisbury, Hamptworth and Downton

Friday 9^th May

Last time I wrote, we were in Sherfield English, a little village in Hampshire, just below the Wiltshire border, and on the edge of the New Forest. We are now in Horsham. We’ve found that we can only really write on our “rest days”, those days when we catch up on The Guardian and Observer” and do the washing. Too tired other days.

So let’s tell you about Hampshire and Wiltshire, and driving to Horsham in West Sussex, where my second cousin Linda (Tucker) lives.

Southampton

Having set up camp at a really well appointed caravan park off the A27, we connected with Ange, a fourth cousin whose family never left Southampton, unlike the rest of my relatives. I have been corresponding with Ange for over 12 months, and hosted her sister Ali and husband Dennis to a barbecue at our place last Christmas. It was great to see her.

Having a husband of her own who uses a wheelchair, she sympathized with me about the lack of space in the motor home. However, being thinner than me, she was able to get between the fridge and John’s chair much more easily than I can. I know I should have gone on that diet.

John was still not well, so Ange drove me into Southampton and we went to the Southampton Common to pick up printouts of the surnames I needed for the civic burial grounds in the area. We didn’t have time to go to the Old Cemetery where my Tucker ancestors (three generations) are buried. Pity. However, I was keener to go to the Southampton City Archives, where Ange left me to go home to see to her husband, who has been in bed for weeks with a pressure area. (I’d simply left John at home with a sandwich.)

The City Archives was a treasure trove, and I could have spent more than the two and a half hours allotted to me by my chauffeur (Ange) at my request, since I did feel a bit guilty about John being home alone! He said the worst was listening to the lawn mower at the campsite all day.

The next day, Friday 2nd, we had to check out John’s battery charger since it was not charging the chair, but fortunately it was just a loose connection. Ange had come to the rescue and found us a local wheelchair fixit man.

We then went into Southampton for the day, and fortunately it was a beautiful day and the Eastgate markets were in progress. We have some great photos of the fortress wall and gate.

Both my great grandfathers were small businessmen in the vicinity of Eastgate. My father’s grandfather and father (before WW1 for the latter) had a music shop at 10 Upper Canal Walk, and my grandmother’s father, Robert Henry Reed had three bakeries, one in East Street, which intersects with Canal Walk, and the others in High Street and London Road. The East Street premises was also a tea shop (café). Upper Canal Walk was badly bombed on November 30, 1940 and the music shop was destroyed. My great grandfather’s second wife (“the gold-digger”) was running it from 1924 when g-grandfather died until 1940. The bakery at East Street and all the shops around there seem to have been renewed as well, so maybe they were also bombed. Over 600 people lost their lives at that time.

The photos for Southampton can be viewed at http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnMoxon1/Southampton

Downton Cuckoo Festival, Saturday 3^rd May

This is an annual festival, and we timed our trip so we could go. My cousin Linda and Peter were also keen to go, so they drove two hours to the campsite from Horsham, West Sussex and we all went together in the motor home. I only jumped the clutch once.

We found parking quite easily in the schoolyard and joined thousands of others in the village. We missed the Maypole dancing but caught the hoop dancing and the Morris dancing. We had a beer in the King’s Arms, where a secret passage led to the neighbouring St Laurence Church. During Tudor times, the Catholic priest could be hidden in the pub if necessary.

St Laurence Church (1150) is very interesting. My 5th great grandfather William Tucker was married here in 1761, and many of my ancestors and their siblings were baptised or married there.

You can check out all the photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnMoxon1/DowntonCuckooFestivalMay32008

Salisbury
On Sunday, we travelled to Salisbury to catch up with Dot Gurd, who is a very very helpful Wiltshire genealogy "expert". She is always very helpful to "newies" on the Moonrakers list, and to people who have met a "brickwall" with their genealogy research. She contacted me off-list and invited us to lunch at the Red Lion, and then took us on a tour of Salisbury Cathedral and to a Medieval Pageant which co-incided with the 750th anniversary of the church.

Salisbury Cathedral has the highest spire in England. Those stone masons and builders certainly knew what they were doing back then. They sure had some skills.

The funny thing is that Dot is also a Power wheelchair user.

The photos have not yet been loaded, but keep an eye out for the Salisbury photos at http://picasaweb.google.com/JohnMoxon1/.

Banbury April 20 to 29 - our itinerary shot to pieces

Well, all good plans go astray, and ours WAS a good plan. We just didn't allow for a) having to leapfrog over John's wheelchair in the motor home (and you know how good I - Margaret - am at that! b) John not being able to turn over in bed independently - too narrow, nothing much to hang onto. And c) John getting ill two days into the trip, with an infection that wouldn't go away and a pressure area, and a hospital visit, and recuperation.

So we spent nine days in Banbury, including John spending time experiencing the National Health Service - 99% good, he has to say. They actually listened to him! Westmead Hospital could do with some of that.

However, enough of that. We've met some fabulous people, and reacquainted ourselves with old friends (Carole from 1972 in Sydney) and Ray, Marg's second cousin in Banbury. We met Linda Tucker, Marg's second cousin for the first time, and a 4th cousin - do they count? - Ange in Southampton, as well as people from the Moxon Society, including John Moxon Hill, whose driveway we stayed in in Coventry.

Linda and her husband Peter met us in London on April 19, and put us on the train to Derby at St Pancras. We tried to get on the Tube at Hammersmith, but the train was 12 inches below the platform, and no ramps. So much for accessible underground. Plan 2 worked though. Number 10 bus to Kings Cross. We made the train with 30 minutes to spare.

The British Midlands train couldn't be faulted. Excellent customer service, ramps and friendly helpful staff. We are collecting photos of accessibility features and will put them on a Google Album.

So to Derby where we collected the motor home - just huge - and Marg had to learn how to depress a clutch (after 25 years not using one), and after two weeks, she's nearly got the hang of it. Hate reversing in tight spaces though. Bit of a coward. Meanwhile John sits behind, strapped down (takes 10 minutes to strap him in) and reminds Marg to change gears. What a laugh. But we make a good team. John is so used to driving when we go travelling, we'd both much prefer it if he were driving.

After a night at Shardlow Marina near Derby, we set off for Coventry, where we had a really great time with two men from the Moxon Society and their wives. Very hospitable. Did John tell you his DNA matches other men's from the Moxon Society in his same line? So no kidding, he really is a Moxon.

On Monday 20th, we left the van at the Moxon Hill's place, and caught a taxi into Coventry, where we met Carole and her husband at the Coventry Cathedrals. Stunning ruins. There is now a reconciliation process going on, between Coventry and Dresden, which is nice. It was bitterly cold, as it was on the previous Saturday in London. Carole and I had 34 years to catch up. We'd lost touch, and I'd last seen her when I was over on a working holiday to the UK in 73-75.

Banbury was next, and that's where John started to feel really ill again with an infection which came back despite treatment in London. And to complicate matters, his good trousers (worn to impress his family connections ins Coventry) didn't agree with him, and he developed a pressure area. So he ended up in Banbury's Horton Hospital under the NHS. After two days (and with John's encouragement) they discharged him - too soon in retrospect. Isn't it always the way with hospitals? No one wants to stay in. It has been difficult to deal with sickness in the motor home - despite its size, it is difficult to move around and especially to move equipment.

But back to Banbury. Whilst John was in hospital, Marg stayed two nights with Ray and Trish, her cousins, who had been on the doorstep almost as soon as we'd arrived. Ray gave John a lot of help by building a platform to make it easier for John to get into bed. (The bed was too high). Did I mention top bunks - just the thing for a 60 year old wife - NOT. But there you go, one of us has to climb the ladder. Meanwhile Trish lent and gave us things to get us out of strife, and they drove me around town shopping etc.

Banbury is a lovely place - it is where the peasants were advised to Ride a Cock Horse. The town is a mixture of new and old. Lovely shopping centre in between all these streets of old houses, pubs and other businesses. And the Oxford Canal with its locks and longboats (for tourists) meanders through the town. We have loaded up some photos onto a public album. We were there nine days altogether. Not much fun for John though. He didn't see anything of Banbury.

And so to Hampshire where we are staying at Sherfield English, midway between Romsey and Salisbury, and a very well appointed caravan park. Lots of kids having the time of their lives over the Bank Holiday weekend. Enough for now.

We've arrived

Well, it's freezing in Hammersmith! John is all done up in his Bathurst gear, whilst Margaret is borrowing his Bob Jane jacket whenever possible. Did you know that the poms have summer gear for sale now. No way can I find a fleecy lined weather proof jacket of my own. Nor a scarf or hat. (I did bring some winter clothes, but not nearly warm enough).

Many of the shop chains I remembered from 35 years ago still trade - Marks and Sparks, Boots the Chemist, W.H. Smith. Streets are narrow. Many of the buses appear to be wheelchair accessible.

We nearly flew back to Hong Kong yesterday. John couldn't get off the plane for nearly two hours because of a breakdown in communication about wheelchairs. I have a very embarrassing photo of him sprawled out on a first class cabin "bed" chair, but no, I won't be posting it on our blog. I don't want a divorce.

We are still feeling somewhat tired after the trip, but neither of us had any trouble adjusting time zones. We are nine hours behind Sydney. Still thinking "what time is it at home" but no doubt we'll soon get over that once the holiday starts properly.

Our Itinerary in the UK and Ireland

Here is our calendar for our trip.