reflections on who we are and where we've come from

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Saturday
“But the ghost of your father
He couldn't be clearer
He's there where he haunted you
The rearview mirror” - FOUR MIRRORS Loudon Wainwright
My relationship with my father was to say the least fraught. Our relationship was never close.

today I had a quite profound experience today. We called in at North Leigh on the way to Oxford. North Leigh is the birthplace of my great grandfather and my grandfather. My Great great grandfather was the publican at the WOODMAN Inn. I just have memories of my grandfather. He died when i was a boy. Judging by the diaries written by my Great grandfather both he and my grandfather and my father were chips off the old block, cast from the same authoritarian, inflexible pig-headed mould. My great grandfather and grandfather arrived in Australia in the late 19th Century. They settled in Sydney. We had planned this visit to North Leigh back in Australia as part of the family history journey we are taking as part of this trip.
As we approached North Leigh the strangest thing started to occur. I started to choke up.

“Last week I attended a family affair
And a few remarked upon my recent growth of facial hair
You look just like your father did with that beard someone said
I answered back I am him, even though my old man’s dead.” – SURVIVING TWIN Loudon Wainwright

We arrived at the pub to find it in the middle of a beer festival. We introduced ourselves to the publican who was so overwhelmed by the fact that we had travelled all this way to visit his pub because of my family history, that he recommended a 3.5% alcohol beer as a starter before making our way up to the harder stuff.
We had a pint and a local version of a countery and then made our way to the local church.
Now i love the way that chance has punctuated our holidays. We had so many chance encounters when we were in Europe 3 years ago that it became part of our expectations. Maybe it’s because this is our second major European trip that the chance encounters have not been as apparent (or, on reflection maybe it’s because in England we speak in English!) – until today. It began with our trip to the Uffington White Horse. The white horse is the oldest such carving in Britain dated back to the stone age. The site incorporates the horse, an ancient stone age “castle” at the summit and a mound known as DRAGON HILL (the supposed site where St George slew the dragon). As with most heritage sites it’s “pay and display”. On our way back we made a passing remark to some locals and this resulted in a 20 minute chat about St George’s Day 23rd April. At that moment a group of Morris Dancers who had congregated on the “Dragon Hill” began to dance in celebration of St George’s day. It was a lovely set of synergies. 30 minutes later as we made our way up Dragon Hill we encountered two Northern Territorians making their way down. Another engaging chat.
Back at North Leigh we wandered down to the North Leigh Church built in the 11th century. I started wandering through the graveyard looking for... i’m not sure. And then it’s like i’m hit by a shock of electricity. I jump back and point with a kind of strangled “Oh” sound. The gravestone reads Thomas Langford died 1878 aged 79 years. We can’t say for certain but there is a strong chance that it’s the father of Edward my Great great Grandfather. My great great great grandfather!! We find half a dozen more Langfords all buried later than 1878. But here’s the chance happening. We wander into the church and two volunteer ladies are doing some housekeeping (churchkeeping?). We spend nearly an hour talking with them about the church and North Leigh. And here’s the really good part.
Most of the really old gravestones have been weathered to the point where the inscriptions have worn away. So there’s no way to know about anyone prior to Charles.
EXCEPT, the church ladies told us of a retired school teacher who has made her retirement mission the documenting of the local history of the church INCLUDING the local families. We have left my email address for her to contact us. Hopefully she will.
This has been such a profound experience for me. Amongst the myriad of sadnesses caused by the death of your parents is the fact that they are no longer there to answer your questions. When they’re alive you have all the opportunities to ask them questions. But you’re too young or too smug to know the right questions to ask or you’re just not interested. And when you get to the age when you can frame the right questions, they’re not there any more. I have so many questions i want to ask but they’re not there.
Today was a day spent walking in my forbears’ footsteps – literally. I drank in their pub. I was reverential in htheir church. I walked along the public right of way that they walked. I visited the graveyard where almost certainly they were buried.

“Although my father’s dead and gone, I’m his surviving twin.” – Loudon Wainwright

It is said that children are our attempt to reach into the future. The sad thing is that the reach into the future will last at most for 3 generations. My father, although we had little in common, gave me the most precious gift: my life. So i look back on him now with..... i don’t know. Something happened today. I’m still trying to grasp what it all means. But of one thing i’m sure. My great great grandfather would not have any inkling of the great great grandson who would be born a working class lad half a world away, of a boy who would transition to a university educated middle class adult who returned to discover aspects of his heritage 150 years after his death. Or to put it another way, we can choose our friends......

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