OK this’ll be a confused tale anyway, my memory being what it is.
I started researching my family history in 1987 after my mother died, largely to provoke my father’s interest: he could do all the practicalities of washing, cleaning, cooking but was (surprisingly) declaring himself to be lonely and lacking momentum. To cut a long story short - shorter because it’s not one that ever gets finished - I traced my mother’s 99.9% Suffolk line back beyond a relative who died in 1666, the year of the Great Fire of London (and he was aged 102) to his father, born 1562.
My father’s Yorkshire line stumbled to a much earlier halt due to the preponderance of same names.
My husband being born a Londoner, it wasn’t surprising his ancestors came from all corners of England, with a couple of foreigners thrown in, albeit untraceable. But all of which I’m reasonably sure of.
What disturbed my certainty, however, was the article I read last week telling of a man who, with the help of a woman doctor keen to help post-war wives with no other prospect of child-bearing, successfully impregnated 467 women, no doubt a high percentage, secretly.
Plot Thickens (Thursday) confused blood lines