Christmas Came

Christmas, in the form of many packages from Up North, came to Liverpool. It is not what is in the parcels that matters. It is the message they bring. There is plenty of North further Up and in the East from whence came our gifts. It is 20 years since I left Tyneside for Sheffield. Since then, many changes, adventures, achievement,  some joy, much grief.  But Christmas still comes, bringing to each of us a flood of memories and mixed emotions. And love that lights dark nights.

This year it is hard to hear angel voices

through the agony in Gaza, the anger of Israel,  fear in Ukraine, desperation in Sudan, Somalia, Yemen and in the heaving English Channel. Yet in the middle of our dreary winter which is getting warmer year on year, this is a moment to stop and nurture the light of hope lodged deep within that gives a reason to keep going, to still be here,  to hear the angels sing.

Long Distance Logans

Today, at my niece Rebecca's Shrewsbury home,  I met for the first time my lovely Canadian second cousin Jo-Ellen Logan and her jovial Welsh husband David. 

My mother, born Elsie Logan, was one of six chdren so we have a lot of Logan cousins who we have kept in touch with since we were small, but my mother's father was also one of six.  

His brother, my Great Uncle Archie, sailed for Canada in 1909 leaving behind a wife and two children but taking with him his pregnant ladyfriend Edith. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that she took him having sold her Lambeth sweet shop to pay for the ticket.

Archie and Edith's new family knew nothing of their London life  and Archie's  son Harry never found out where his father went. It took over a hundred years, some tenacious research and a contact by Rebecca through Ancestry DBA for the truth to emerge.

Archie's wife Charlotte had eventually married again, her first husband presumed dead but Archie never married Edith although their children believed they had.

In a time when divorce for ordinary people was nearly impossible many unhappy marriages ended in emigration with confused children left to try and piece together their fragmented memories.

This renewed Logan connection is too late for anyone who knew the story. But I have a new cousin who is as easy to talk as the rest of the family and despite being the same age as me, brought back faint memories of my aunties.

And she lives in Thunder Bay.

Another mountain to climb

Liverpool Mountain by Ugo Rondinone on the Albert Dock beside Liverpool Tate. It matches the iconic Las Vegas Mountains.

And another great effort will be required when we hear what tomorrow's new  restrictions will bring. Yesterday I went with soon-to-be-six Seth and his family for his earlly birthday treat - a meal at Pizza Express, just in case it was closed by his birthday next weekend. It was a nice meal but a sad experience. The Albert Dock is deserted, the usually busy restaurant more than half empty. All staff masked and the atmosphere strangely chilly. This establishment and so many others, can't last long like this. In the seven months since the first lockdown in March 2020 over 42,000 people in the UK have died from or after having tested positive from Covid -19. Across the world over one million. The summer lull gave us a false sense of security. There is a long climb ahead.

Wincobank to Dingle and back

Mum's camellia, my Holystone apple tree grown from a pip and various other bedraggled
potted plants have moved to Liverpool and so has half of me. And most of my possessions.  The little house is now full.

It is full of joy as my family come to call, and some drama as I lock myself out at night without keys, phone, money or coat while Steve sleeps soundly upstairs.

Back in Sheffield we are installed in a fully refurbished Connie's house and the garden is springing into life.

I'm not sure how this Wincobank to Dingle week will work or how we will ever unpack all the boxes and fit all the shelves to be filled by the beautiful books and odd ornaments that escape the charity shop bag, but a new chapter begins.

Reader, we bought it.

Signing the contract 25 January 2018

To cut a long story short - with the help of donations from many hundreds of well-wishers and several charities including the Heritage Lottery Fund, we formed an incorporated company and bought the graveyard to stop it being sold to a car salesman who was going to incorporate it into the car sales pitch on the site of the old church.  The full story has been documented on Facebook: Friends of Zion Graveyard, and on our website www.ziongraveyard.btck.co.uk.
Buying a graveyard wasn't in my plan for the year, but it has certainly been an adventure which continues as we navigate legal issues around access, charitable status and the neighbouring car sales planning application.  This photo was taken by Joseph Desforges, Media & Marketing Manager of Voluntary Action Sheffield who has lived up to his job title by designing us a beautiful logo and is working on a commemorative plaque.

Graveyard for Sale

It all started when my partner Steve brought me a newspaper cutting from the Sheffield Telegraph.
"Is this your Mary Anne's graveyard?" he asked."It's up for sale."
"I don't think so" I said. "It can't be"
"I think it is"
"You'll be sorry" I said.

A few emails later, two newspaper articles written, some phone calls made and I am on an expedition with several others through a jungle in industrial Attercliffe. Soon, despite all the odds, I find myself staring down at the inscription on the two enormous memorial stones that cover the family vault of the Read family of Wincobank Hall.

Eight members of this extraordinary family are interred there,safe beneath those heavy stones. Apart from a baby,  all were  involved in the fight against slavery, notably Mary Anne Rawson who campaigned both on the doorstep to persuade the women of Sheffield to boycott sugar from the colonies and by writing letters to royalty, politicians and celebrities of the day, entreating them to lend their voices to the campaign.  Most did, although Wordsworth, happy in his Lakeland idyll, politely declined.

Wincobank Hall stood at the top of my road until it was demolished in 1925.  Mary Anne Rawson founded the little school which later became Upper Wincobank Chapel as well as a teacher training college in Jamaica, one of the first in the world.

You can read more if you like, in the articles I was asked to write for the Sheffield Telegraph. The links are below.  I think there will soon be a third article - what to do with an overgrown, unwanted graveyard...

http://www.sheffieldtelegraph.co.uk/lifestyle/nostalgia/nostalgia-the-changing-face-of-wincobank-hall-1-8403171

http://www.sheffieldtelegraph.co.uk/whats-on/arts/heritage-the-wonder-women-of-wincobank-hall-1-8427858

Connie

Connie Wheeliker, nee Bell

Steve and I are moving into Connie's house soon.  

So who is Connie and where did she go?

I first met Connie Wheeliker nine years ago when I was summoned to her house just ten doors down from mine. My reputation as the history hunter of High Wincobank had reached her and she wanted to hand over the baton. She showed me her old photographs and told me that her ancestors, the Bells, were from one of the oldest families in the area. 

She had been born in the house that stands at the end of my road, on the site of the gatehouse of Wincobank Hall.  

Connie's Family Album

I later returned to receive cherished treasures: her local studies file, an enormous slide projector, a map of the Ancient Parish of Ecclesfield and a photo scrapbook she had made for the Wincobank Chapel archives. 

She showed me a painting in her hallway of the the old Newman Road farm surrounded by open fields.  Until that moment I had only thought of this  the plot of land opposite her house as a scrap yard stuck in the middle of housing. It brought a whole new perspective to the evolution of the area. 

Newman Road Farm

Last Christmas, when I came back from Hawaii I found that she was in hospital.  In her final six months spent in and out of hospital I saw more of her than I had ever done.  

She loved the home where she had lived for 64 years and the garden with its birds and tenderly nurtured plants.  She did not want to leave it, but eventually conceded defeat.  After several visits to hospital she asked to be moved to the nursing home where she died a few weeks later from cancer of the colon, something she had hardly ever mentioned. 

Connie was a character, very particular but with a great sense of humour. We made a great little film of her talking with her old friend Brendan Ingle who just happens to be a trainer of world champion boxers.  They had so much to say.    https://youtu.be/AV1uF3-h2UY  If the Youtube link does not work just cut and paste it into your browser.