My absence

I thought I would explain my absence. Quite apart from spending all my time caring for my Mom whose Alzheimer’s has been progressing bit-by-bit, as has her deteriorating ability to care for herself, I haven’t had a lot to say. Well… Not quite true. I’ve been spending more time posting obsessively on Google+ and Facebook instead of bothering posting longer stuff here. As well, posting from my phone and iPad was, until recently, a pain in the ass. It’s a little easier.

Advertisements

Untimely Fate

I have been, as usual, been working on the family tree. There are many times when I find something really unexpected. Sometimes I find something that verifies something that I knew or turns what I thought I knew on its head. And, occasionally, I find something that I had completely forgotten. This is one of the latter.

My mother had related the story of “someone” who stepped off a tram platform to cross the street and was knocked down by an army truck. I couldn’t recall who this unfortunate “someone” was and sort of put it into the dark recesses of my memory.

The other day, I was searching for information about my great-grandmothers, my mother’s paternal grandmother, Jane Spence Soutar. I knew she died in 1940, 5 years after her husband, William Bowie McIntosh, seen here on their Golden anniversary.

img031a-vi

My mother never really liked her because she was always critical of her.

She had broken off communication with my grandfather shortly into the War after what was a very silly thing that she did. Prideful.

She was evacuated from Newcastle because of the danger of bombing and had gone to live with my grandparents in Dumfries. She was nasty and spent her time criticizing my grandmother and complaining about the food and my grandmother and her cooking and just about everything.

Late one night, after bitterly complaining about the food and refusing to eat, my grandfather heard sounds from the kitchen. He went down and discovered her down in the kitchen eating all the food she complained about the day before. He tore a strip off her, pointing out that she was a guest in his house, and that her complaining about and wasting food (that was rationed) and then sneaking down and eating was not just rude and in bad form, it was unpatriotic.

The next morning she packed her bags and left and never talked to him again. His sisters, all but one, refused to speak to him, also. And SHE burned her bridges after the war and my grandfather’s death.

I am not sure how long before her death the above happened. At least a couple of years.

Yesterday, I was searching the British Newspaper Archives and came across this news story.

img_9944-vi

According to another report, the ladies had their umbrellas up and couldn’t see the truck. My great grandmother died later in hospital.

(A.R.P.: Air Raid Precautions)

%d bloggers like this: