Genealogy Series: Bigamy, Adultery and Murder - Talk to Scottish Genealogy Society

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Re-calibrating life

As a measure of our creeping away from most restrictive aspects of this pandemic lockdown, we had our first proper fish supper at the end of this week. Rockfish in Whitehills has adapted its layout to create a one-way system which allows 2-metre social distancing. They used to have 38 seats for eating-in customers. For the time being they're gone. They have always taken telephone orders and that now enables them to book you in for a specific time; in our case 1830. And on arrival, the order of two portions of lemon sole and one portion of chips awaited collection; fresh and hot. Herself who had placed the order had not specified the enclosure for the fish. So they were battered rather than breaded as I might have specified. But it's a lovely light batter. Looking at the kitchen orders behind the staff, it was clear that they were in for a fairly busy evening. This fine establishment says on their web site ( http://rockfishwhitehills.co.uk/ ) that: "Our family has ove...

Never watch laws or sausages being made

Small steps can add up over time. Today is my fifty-fifth day of social isolation, and hence the 55th time I have sat down to write a daily diary. And over time, that means I have 60,040 words written down. At the outset had I contemplated an exercise which involved writing anything that I could see even faintly as being of that scale, I would not have set out on any writing at all. Similarly had my inserting an hour for walking into my daily schedule been presented as my walking 300 miles, I would not have stirred from the sofa. In the event, I ain't going to reach that 300 by Tuesday. Yesterday's weather was extremely inclement; lots of rain - the garden says "thank you". So I took my daily exercise via an extended period on the rowing machine. It's something I've been encouraged to do by a niece's partner. Having cycled right around Australia, he knows a bit about exercise. And like all long-distance athletes, he carries not an ounce of spare fat....

Caring people

As I walked yesterday, a couple of things came to mind. Visually I was stimulated by the vigorous flowering of the broom at the roadside. Looks much the same as the whin that still dominates the countryside with its vivid yellow flowers. The broom is slightly more mellow but, more importantly, lacks those vicious sharp thorns that any medieval barber could have used in his blood-letting practice. And the other was prodding my brain; a traditional English nursery rhyme, "Monday's Child" which is thought to have come from their county of Devonshire. Thursday's child has "far to go". It was Thursday. That was relevant to my walking exercise. I am a Tuesday's child, and thus I am "full of grace". Perhaps. My brother was a Saturday child, he "works hard for his living", this eighth-decader used to, but it's my sister who is Thursday's child. Now, of course, a rhyme is just that. It ain't necessarily a philosophical sta...

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