My Lovecraftian Ancestors

What happened to my last post? It seems to have disappeared. Oh well, maybe it will be back, maybe it won't (like many things in life, my health and enthusiasm included). I am finally on my weekend, and I am looking forward to some time doing the things I like to do. I have never enjoyed time off as much as I do these days. Every moment seems precious. Even cleaning the toilet seems like a treat.

I've been tinkering around on Ancestry.com again. The branch of the tree that is supposed to link us to the royals is turning out to be more than dodgy (one of my ancestors apparently giving birth at the age of 104 being a case in point). I am not sure I really want to be connected to all those traitors and murderers anyway (for that is all most of those old royals were. They only got to the top by being bigger bastards than anyone else).

The branch of the family I am looking at tonight is centered in the Nottingham, Lincoln and Leicester area. Ther family names are like something out of H. P. Lovecraft: Wheatley, Oldershaw, Jackson, Severn. I haven't found a Wilbur Wheatley yet (as in Lovecraft's story, "The Dunwich Horror") but you never know. I've traced some of my ancestors on this particular branch back to 1600. When I go back to Derby in the summer, I'd like to go to some of these tiny villages my ancestors lived in and look around. I think that would be pretty amazing. I especially want to go to Smalley, where the Kerry branch of my family seem to have lived for centuries. If there are any of them still there, they must be so inbred that they have fins by now. Still, looking on the bright side, that will make them easy to pick out on the street.