A new blog for a new day

2 Feb

This is the third blog I have set up. They have all had the same name and all have fallen by the wayside and so I am determined to set a new precedent with this one. I will not let my insecurities get to me! I shall live with an air of not caring if no one reads this!

Of course I do care and I hope that you will read it and enjoy it, but please humour me!

So let us begin.

I wish to start with my family because that’s always a good place to start. In the past year I have learnt a lot about my ancestors, some good, some bad, some inconclusive. But it has made me realise in a somewhat cliched way that what I thought was ordinary about my family is in fact extraordinary and transcendent. Let me explain.

My Nanna is part of the U3A, which for those of you who don’t know is the University of the Third Age. It mainly involves going on walks and trips to Churches, all of which I am not ashamed to say sound fascinating! But the main course my Nanna takes is ‘Family History : Who do you think you are?’ Now anyone who knows me, not even that well will know that I am a complete Francophile. Not unusual I know for a 20-something girl with a penchant for independent films who has watched Amelie at least once in their lives. However, somewhat selfishly I have always desired to have a french relative…Somewhere…I mean there had to be right? Right indeed! In my Nanna’s avid searching she has found that we come from the Huguenots  who came to London and established a fine weaving industry, particularly around Spitalfields, the place where I currently work.

Now I am the first to admit that I have an overactive imagination, but part of me believes that this love of France had been weaved into me before I was even a thought. I become even more emphatic with my emotions as I walk around the market and I think of those individuals working there. I realise that I had completely forgotten, nay never given thought really to where I had come from. I had just taken it for granted.

Later on in my family history came another interesting individual. He was deaf and dumb but a fine sculptor and artist. I hope that I will use this metaphoric, fantastical character one day for something. But for now I shall use him as a sign for who I am, was and will be. This sculptor, who like many of my family has utilised and created their talent through there hands, did something very special. He was part of the creation of one of the finest pieces of art that defines London to the world. His name like the many others who helped has been lost I am sure but each time I walk through the great Trafalgar Square and see those magnificent lions, I see them to be a shining beacon not of war and victory but of the hands of families who helped to shape Britain to what it is today.

This came to a head last night before I went to bed when I looked at the new website for my families business. I became slightly overwhelmed when I saw the pictures of my Grandfather, my Uncle and my Dad. They may not have travelled the globe, or climbed Mount Everest but like those explorers and my ancestors they had the courage of their convictions never to give up, to believe in dreams and to run with them.




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