family history – The Countryman's Daughter

Crossing the Fords to Haymoor

The copy of the liquor licence transferring the lease of the Lettered Board to Joseph Ford, dated ‘fourth day of May One thousand eight hundred and fifty eight’

L-R Ian Ford, David Ford (back), Richard Ford (front), Ada Ford, Margaret Ford, Sylvia Ford and Eileen Roe on a family day out in about 1959. The ruins of Hamer House can be seen in the background.

I’m continuing to be surprised by how many memories my columns about Hamer Inn have jogged.

The latest contact came from reader Ian Ford. As his surname suggests, he is related to the Fords who were licensees of the inn in the mid-1800s. Ian is the cousin of David Ford, whose original message to me asking for photos of the inn sparked off this whole chain of columns. Ian is the great great grandson of Robert Ford who was born at Hamer in 1860. Robert was the son of Joseph Ford who took over the licence in 1858 and the brother of Joseph Ford Junior, who wrote a book about life on the North York Moors called ‘Some Reminiscences and Folk Lore of Danby Parish and District.’

Ian sent me copies of correspondence between himself and my dad from 2007 relating to Hamer, including some old family photos taken in the 1950s with the inn in the background, which by then was derelict but still clearly a building of some sort. As you know if you’ve read my previous columns, all that lies there today is a pile of old stones.

I’ve referred to Hamer as a property ‘of many names’ and they include The Lettered Board, The Wayside Inn, Hamer Inn and Hamer House. Ian revealed there was yet another name – Haymoor House. Surely that is its ‘posh’ name, because if you say it in a local accent, you get to Hamer (pronounced Hay-mer).

Ian included a copy of the original licence from when Joseph Ford took it over in 1858. You might recall that I mentioned that my dad had a copy of that licence:

‘Hamer’s role as an inn declined after 1870, the year a local writer called Joseph Ford was born at the remote house. His father was landlord and I have a copy of a licensing application dated 1858 in which the liquor licence of the Lettered Board was transferred to Joseph Senior.’

I searched for the licence in my dad’s files, but was disappointed when I was unsuccessful. What I didn’t know then was that there was a reason I could not find it, and that reason was revealed in the letters that Ian sent me.

Ian had contacted my dad after reading his book ‘Murders and Mysteries From the North York Moors’ in which both Joseph Fords are mentioned. He cites the tales Dad covered in the book, including those about the Lettered Board, and goes on to explain his family connection. He’d asked if he could see a copy of the old liquor licence transferring the lease to from the previous landlord to Joseph Ford.

Dad’s letter of reply states: “So far as the liquor licence for The Lettered Board at Hamer is concerned, I enclose my copy of it. It is dated 1858 and Joseph’s name was quite clear. It is an ancient photocopy – and I can’t remember where I got it from – but I doubt if it would reproduce any better on our modern equipment. As I can’t think I am likely to have any further use for it, please accept it with my compliments.”

So my dad had given it to Ian – no wonder I couldn’t find it! Yet another minor mystery solved thanks to you wonderful readers.

Incidentally, Ian reminded me that he had been in touch with me a couple of years ago regarding Joseph Pilmoor, the illegitimate son of Joseph Foord, the groundbreaking hydro engineer who came up with ways of ensuring remote moorland communities were served with fresh running water. Foord had had a liaison with a lady called Sarah Pilmoor from Fadmoor near Kirkbymoorside, and as a result, he was thrown out of the Quakers. Born in 1739, his son, inspired by founder of Methodism John Wesley, grew up to be one of the most successful preachers who travelled to the USA to recruit followers. Today there are around six million Methodists 30,000+ churches in the USA. He has countless plaques and memorials dedicated to him in many states and is described by them as a ‘pioneer missionary’. A remarkable feat for a lad from North Yorkshire.

Ian thinks both families might be connected, and indeed his branch used to spell their surname ‘Foord’ until the 19th century. Does anyone out there know for sure?

This column appeared in the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 8th and the Darlington and Stockton Times on 10th April 2026

Watch what you wish for

My son Joey and I went to the North York Moors near the site of Hamer Inn to look for the Corkseller’s Grave but were unsuccessful

I’ve had some interesting information about the Corkseller’s Grave that I mentioned a couple of weeks back. If you recall, I quoted a 1990s article written by Paul Grantham in which he explained that our corkseller would have been trekking the moors in the 18th century. Sadly, his threadbare clothes were not enough to protect him one savage winter, and he perished. Hard-up locals would not have been willing to bear the cost of a funeral and so they would have buried him where he was found, which was legal at the time.

My son Joey and I tried to find his grave, but were unsuccessful. I’m thrilled that the writer himself, Paul Grantham, got in touch after reading the column: “I was told, and shown, the Corkseller’s Grave by Dick Bell, the first head ranger of the Moors. He kept the grave marked, and tidied up the stones whenever he passed the site. He told me because he was sure that I would continue to keep it tidy. Sadly, it now appears to be neglected and is in desperate need of some TLC.

“I have records of many unconsecrated graves across the country, some in danger of being lost forever. There is (at least) one other grave on the Moors which beggars belief and will make a wonderful story if written up by someone more skilful than me. There is another story of a missing body which revolves around the little known group of cunning folk called St Mark’s Maidens who operate on the eve of St Mark’s Day. This is April 24th…so it will be here soon.”

I’m looking forward to hearing more from Paul about these mysterious tales, and will of course pass them on to you once I read them for myself.

His comment about St Mark’s Maidens made me want to find out about them, but there was not much that I was able to discover specifically with that name, although there is plenty about St Mark’s Eve.

St Mark the Evangelist was one of Christ’s 12 apostles and is best known for having one of the Bible’s four Gospel books of the New Testament attributed to him. He is the patron saint of many things, including lions, lawyers, opticians, pharmacists, painters, secretaries, interpreters, prisoners and people with insect bites!

I can’t find anything suggesting he is connected with predicting the future or romantic love, which is why it’s a bit odd that the day before his saint’s day is all about ‘divination’, specifically people trying to either find their life partner or determine who is going to die in the coming year.

All sorts of curious practices took place in the hope that at the end, the supplicant would discover the identity of their intended one. Both men and women performed these customs, so would it be that the women were known as St Mark’s Maidens? Would the men then be ‘Masters’?

Rituals included women walking backwards towards a well before circling it three times, also backwards, while wishing to see their future husband. After the second circle, she would peer into the water where the face of her intended would reveal itself. Presumably if she didn’t like the look of him, she’d not complete a third turn!

Another custom was to set the dinner table and leave the front door open. The next person through the door would be your true love. If you didn’t like cooking you could instead visit a church yard at midnight, pluck some grass from a grave and leave it under your pillow. When you awoke, the next person you saw would be THE one.

As for predicting who would pass away, ‘watchers’ would sit in the church porch and at midnight the apparitions of those to die in the coming year would file past. If the watcher at any time fell asleep, then they would be the one to perish. A similar custom was ‘chaff riddling’ where the watcher had to sit by a barn door riddling chaff all night. At midnight the spectres of those who would pass away would parade past. In his book ‘Yorkshire Days’, my dad tells the a story of a female watcher from Malton seeing a coffin being carried by two men.

She was dead within the year.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 3rd and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 1st April 2026

Snippets from the past all sewn up

A needlework sampler showing a view of York Minster created in 1841 by 16-year-old Ann Raw. She included a depiction of a stained glass window and grazing sheep and cattle next to the building. Picture by Witney Antiques.

Another family mystery has landed in my inbox after a reader came across a series of columns I wrote in late 2022/early 2023 about a set of three needlework samplers that had been hanging in my family kitchen for years.

Two were done by ancestors on my mum’s side of the family while the third was by a little girl called Hannah Raw, who was only nine when she created it in 1835, but about whom we knew nothing.

Following some expert internet sleuthing by my wonderful readers, over the following weeks and months we managed to flesh out much of Hannah’s story, discovering that by the age of 13 she was an orphan, but later married a John Hall, had two children, and even later became a grandmother. She died in 1890 aged 64 and was buried at St Thomas’ Church, Glaisdale. I was ultimately able to find her grave and go and pay my respects.

Sarah Duce, who is based in Limerick, Ireland, got in touch: “I am interested in a school of samplers based around Lastingham. My great aunt Hannah Stonehouse…in 1808 completed a sampler which is quite rare apparently and recently sold to the States for a tidy sum because it depicted the Napoleonic Wars.”

Sarah’s family came originally from Lastingham, but moved first to Hartlepool then to Scunthorpe. Sarah moved to Ireland 30 years ago and is trying to piece together her North Yorkshire roots.

She goes on to explain that Hannah Stonehouse’s sampler was one of four about which she is trying to find out more. “I believe one might have been by a Mary Wilson who was born around 1791 in Hartoft, and wondered if there might have been some sort of connection…I believe my Great Grandma x5, Sarah Harding (nee Smith), may have been the teacher of these girls…She was schoolmistress of Lastingham following the death of her schoolmaster husband from consumption at the young age of 30.”

It was not unusual for widows to take on the work of their late husbands to earn a living to support themselves and their children. Sarah had three little ones, the youngest just two weeks old, and was still the schoolmistress at the age 80, as revealed in her entry on the 1841 census.

Sarah wondered if Hannah Raw was one of the girls sent to the Lastingham sewing school. She explains that her 5x great grandmother Sarah would have had no formal education and was likely illiterate at the time of her marriage “…so must have brushed up her skills quickly, but maybe sewing was the backbone of her teachings…I also saw during my research…a newspaper of 1997 illustrating a 1841 sampler by Ann Raw, age 16, entitled the ‘South View of the Minster’…I wonder if there might be a connection there?”

I cannot answer that question, and Lastingham is a good 15 miles away from where Hannah Raw lived in the Lealholm area. But perhaps a family history sleuth reading this might be able to help, as they did before when finding out such useful information about Hannah. Raw is a common name, and I would imagine that to produce an image of that view of York Minster in 1841, Ann would have had to have sat in front of it to know what it looked like. That would possibly mean she would have been living in York, which in the 19th century was a long journey from the North York Moors. She was a similar age to Hannah Raw, so perhaps they were cousins?

I found an image of the sampler in question on a Facebook page run by Witney Antiques, an Oxfordshire-based specialist in embroidery and samplers. They describe it as follows:

‘This sampler, which shows a view of York Minster, was completed by 16-year-old Ann Raw on 14th February 1841. Her handling of the cathedral’s stained glass window is incredibly charming, as is the depiction of grazing sheep and cattle in the grass next to the building.’

Sarah ended her message by saying: “You never know where little snippets of info can come from, so you have to keep asking!”

You do indeed, Sarah, and I am hoping that someone reading this might just have the key to the little snippets we are looking for.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th March 2026

Homing in on Hamer

**The 1989 Malton Gazette and Herald article about Hamer House sent to me by Howard Campion. Do you know who wrote it?**

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that reader Howard Campion was sending me a copy of a 1989 article that talked about Hamer Inn that once stood on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey on the North York Moors. Also known as the Lettered Board, all that now remains is a pile of stones on an expanse of smooth grass surrounded by heather. It used to be a thriving inn providing rest and sustenance for weary travellers and workers from the coal mines operating nearby.

Howard wondered if the article had been written by my dad (there was no writer’s name attached to it) and now that I have had a chance to read it, I think not. The writing style is a little different and because my dad was not an employed ‘reporter’ as such, he rarely conducted interviews like those that are featured. Unless the writer recognises his work and gets in touch, we might never know! I have attached a picture of said article, so that you can see it for yourself. It is a fascinating piece!

The article features first-hand accounts from those who remember it before it became derelict, which is highly useful when putting together a historical record. What I found really interesting is that this inn of many names had yet another, according to writer Joseph Ford, who was born there while his father, also called Joseph, was licensee in the mid to late 1800s. Joseph Ford junior, who died in 1944, was the great great uncle of David Ford, the reader who first contacted me, setting off this whole chain of Hamer-related columns.

The article states: ‘Ford, who said Hamer was then called the Wayside Inn, described how wagoners leading lime from Cropton would rest their tired horses at Hamer and feed them bags of clover while they partook of beer and egg-and-bacon pie.’

A lady called Annie Turnbull was born at Hamer in 1906, after the Ford family had left. ‘The pub was run by her father and mother, James and Elizabeth Eddon, and Mrs Turnbull was the second youngest of 11 children. They supplemented their income by farming a few acres adjoining the inn, and when last there, Mrs Turnbull could still trace the paddocks.’

Annie remembered: “On the Glaisdale side of the house is a beck (Bluewath) and I can remember going down to the beck with my mother to wash clothes. We took a big cauldron and lit a fire under it to boil the water and clothes.

“We had a pump in the pub yard but in summer it ran dry and we had to carry water from the beck. For reasons I can’t remember, one of the paddocks was called Pig’s Lug. One of the outbuildings was used by my father for making besoms from heather, and on Mondays, Mother would ride a pony to Pickering market to try to sell them.”

Annie’s sister, Lily Boddy, took over from her father in 1914, and it remained an inn for some time thereafter. Wilf Turnbull, Annie’s husband, recalled visiting Hamer in 1943: “All the outbuildings had been pulled down. Only the old pub was still standing and it was being used as a shooting house.”

Terry Ashby has also contacted me about Hamer: “At school in the early 1960s I discovered the delights of the one-inch OS maps and having moved to the North York Moors, I bought ‘Sheet 86 Redcar & Whitby’. There was Hamer House clearly marked. I wondered what it was and I probably pestered my dad to drive there to have a look. There wasn’t much left of it even then. I found out later that it had been an inn and later still I found it mentioned in an historical novel. I can’t remember the title or the author. I find these old ruins fascinating and quite poignant as they always pose questions about who lived there and when and why they were abandoned.”

Does anyone know the novel Terry refers to? And don’t forget, David Ford is still searching for a photo of the inn before it became derelict. Do any of you have one lurking at the back of a drawer somewhere? Maybe it’s time to have a clear out. You never know what you might find!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th Feb 2026

Hamer Home a family story

A 1955 photo of the ruins of Hamer Inn, previously known as the Lettered Board. David Ford’s ancestors lived there. Do you have a photo of the inn before it became derelict? Photo: P.W.Hanstock

I received an interesting message from reader David Ford: “I’ve just spotted a picture of the ruins of Hamer House on Facebook…My great grandfather Robert Ford was born there, along with several of his siblings. He emigrated to the USA as a young man seeking a better life, and tried gold mining. However he did not find it any easier over there and returned to Glaisdale. His brother Joseph wrote a book about life and times in Danby Dale…I would like a photo of Hamer when it was open as an inn.”

Although I’d heard of Hamer House, I didn’t know much about it. The first article that came up on Google was a piece written 15 years ago by none other than my dad. It jogged a memory of seeing it in one of his books and sure enough, on my very own bookshelf was a copy of Dad’s ‘Murders & Mysteries From The North York Moors’ with a whole section on Hamer.

Dad wrote: “It is believed the licence of this old inn continued until 1929, although it did survive as a private house into the 1930s. The last family living there was called Boddy, and I recall the old house still standing when I cycled past as a child.”

The building had a colourful past, and no doubt makes David’s family history research intriguing. The reason the inn was featured in the ‘Murders’ book is because there are three separate tales of deaths associated with it.

The inn stood at one of the highest parts of the moors, on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey at the point where an old monk’s trod, or path, crossed it (where the Lyke Wake Walk traverses that road now). All that remains is a pile of stones, and yet the inn’s ghostly silhouette can be detected in the form of a wide expanse of smooth grass amongst the rough heather, hinting at what was once there – a busy, thriving coaching inn providing rest, warmth and succour for weary travellers. There were active coal mines nearby which drew men to the moors for work, and Eskdale farmers would send wagons of coal to supply places like Cropton, Hutton-le-Hole and Kirkbymoorside.

Although known by many as Hamer Inn, its previous name was the Lettered Board, and my dad believes it had been there for around three centuries. He talks about David’s ancestors in his book:

‘The younger Joseph Ford, who died in 1944, has left behind some stories of Hamer and they provide a vivid picture of the windswept and snowbound inn. He relates how elderly travelling salesmen would trek onto these moors, even in the height of winter, to sell trinkets.’

One sad story concerns a cork-seller who supplied local inn keepers and farmers, and Joseph Ford’s mother knew him well. He succumbed to the ferocious winter weather, and his skeleton was found much later not far from the Lettered Board Inn, his basket of corks lying nearby enabling his body to be identified.

The three cases of deaths at the inn include that of two apparently healthy guests retiring to bed, only to be found dead the next day with no apparent wounds or obvious cause. They may have been poisoned by noxious fumes resulting from recent replastering of the room, but no-one was ever sure.

The second case was a licensee who killed his wife, and quickly moved elsewhere in the dale. He was never prosecuted or imprisoned. The third story tells of a fight breaking out in the bar, and a man being bludgeoned to death with a poker.

Dad writes: “The only remnant of that tale was a heavy iron poker that was chained to the hearth to ensure this sort of thing never happened again. That poker was still there within the memory of my grandparents, but I never saw it.”

Can any of you reading this help David Ford track down a picture of Hamer Inn before it became derelict?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 16th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 14th Jan 2026

Building family foundations

One of the buildings on the Hanging Stones Walk in Rosedale that Nick Harland helped to construct (that’s my friend Dave in the window, looking down at his confused dog Frank).

Andrew Goldsworthy gave Nick Harland this signed book with a hand-drawn picture of the Hanging Stones

I’ve been contacted by readers Ian and Catherine Wilson who had a great titbit about middle names. They wrote: “We would like to add an important advantage to ancestors having maiden names as middle names. When doing family history research the inclusion of a maiden name has often helped to confirm a link.”

I had never thought about that aspect before. They add: “McLaren is an ancestral name that is extremely common in Perthshire not helped by William passing through the generations. Thankfully one generation included Sorley as a middle name and it unlocked our research.”

It makes me think of all the hard work put in by my dad’s brother, Charles Walker, who spent huge amounts of time compiling our family tree. His side of the family had the common name of Walker, and my mum’s side had the even more common Smith. Trying to trace the correct members to create an accurate family tree was extremely tricky, especially when there were first names that were very popular among families of the North York Moors with the same surname. There were dozens of Johns, Henrys and Williams, and Mary’s, Hannahs and Helens too. Uncle Charles’ job was made slightly easier because some of the descendants were given maternal maiden names for middle names. My mum’s eldest brother, was Henry Harland Smith after his paternal grandmother, and her second brother was John Lacy Smith, from his mum’s maiden name. The name Lacy was passed down the next two generations to Henry’s son Richard, and on to his son Charles.

I don’t think this tradition was followed on my dad’s side of the family though, and tracing the Walker line did prove tricky as Uncle Charles wrote back in 2004: “I have a number of possible Walkers living around Lingdale/Skinningrove/Hinderwell. Can Peter remember any names of brothers/sisters of our Grandfather Walker?” He then lists a number of names of possible ancestors. Clearly, trying to sort out who was who was quite the task.

Funnily enough, I was contacted not long ago by Nick Harland, and we discussed whether we might be related through my mum’s side. As mentioned above, her paternal grandmother was a Harland – Edith Richardson Harland. Edith’s parents were William and Ann Harland, and as you might have guessed from Edith’s middle name, Ann’s maiden name was Richardson. Are you keeping up? This is just one tiny segment of our family tree, and I can imagine how mind-boggling it must be when you go down the rabbit hole of trying to piece it all together.

Nick and I didn’t know off the top of our heads if we were related, but that was not the reason he was getting in touch. He wrote: “My father Dennis Harland has often spoken about your dad over the years and I when I first started work, Mary Walker (my dad’s mother) often got me to do little jobs for her as she lived opposite the Glaisdale Institute…my dad’s parents used to live in Brinkburn, the house above where Mary used to live, opposite the institute.”

Nick has a link to the Andrew Goldsworthy ‘Hanging Stones Walk’ in Rosedale about which I wrote a couple of years ago. “All the ten Andy Goldsworthy projects which have been put together have been done with the help of our building firm,” he said.

The Hanging Stones Walk is an amazing feat of creativity, engineering and construction so I am hoping some time to chat more to Nick so he can explain how they did what they did. It is really an art project, rather than simply a walk, and is sponsored by the Ross Foundation (an organisation that supports initiatives related to art, community, sport, music and education) which commissioned sculptor Andrew Goldsworthy, famous for his spectacular pieces of land art. He transformed tumbling down agricultural buildings into amazing pieces that blend seamlessly into their moorland surroundings.

Nick finished by saying: “Another thing you touched on a while ago was about making stone troughs. I make a lot of stone troughs, up to five foot long. There is an easy way and a hard way but it is good fun seeing one completed.”

I think if Nick and I meet, we will have an awful lot to talk about!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 19th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 17th Dec 2025

The tragic lives of some famous names

Maria Branwell, who fell in love at first sight with the Reverend Patrick Brontë and went on to give birth to six children, including the famous literary sisters. Picture used courtesy of the Brontë Society

A few more people have contacted me about nominative determinism, where a person ends up in a job that reflects their name. Strangely, these all seem to be in the medical or related fields.

Anne-Marie Samuel used to work with a Dr Hurt, while Janet Pearce worked alongside a Nurse Nurse! And LJ Stevens says: “There was a probate registrar in the Ipswich District Probate Registry called Mr De’Ath.” You really couldn’t make it up, could you?

On using maiden names as middle names, Gareth Child says: “I was very nearly given my grandmother’s maiden name as a forename. Luckily for me my mother didn’t want her son to be called Crowther.”

Gareth is a registrar and explains: “At work in the register office I do see relatives’ surnames given to babies as middle names. It’s not frequent, but it is in double figures every year. Also, a growing trend among married women who take their husband’s name is for them to keep their maiden name as a middle name after marriage.”

By that, he means officially adopting their maiden name as a middle name, rather than creating a double-barrelled surname.

He adds: “We have the record of every birth, marriage and death in York since 1837, and it’s a fascinating living record of the city.”

Gareth contacted me again a little later with this piece of trivia: “A buried memory has been niggling away at me for a few days and it finally surfaced today. Branwell Brontë was given that name because it was his mother’s maiden name.”

As I am sure you know, Branwell was the brother of Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, but Gareth’s comment made me more curious about the people in that famous family about whom we hear much less, such as their mother, Maria. And the more I learn, the more tragedy I discover.

Maria Branwell was born in Penzance, Cornwall in 1783, but lost both parents within a year of each other. In 1812, she decided to go and stay with her Aunt Jane in Yorkshire who had married a chap called John Fennell, headmaster of Woodhouse Grove School in Appleby Bridge near Bradford. Maria hadn’t planned to move there permanently but soon after arriving met her Uncle John’s friend, Irish clergyman Patrick Brontë. According to the sources I’ve read, the pair fell instantly in love, and married in December 1812. By then, Maria was 29 and Patrick 35, which was considered a bit long in the tooth to be newly wed, but the pair seemed very happy and their first child, Maria, was born in 1814, swiftly followed by their second, Elizabeth, the following year. Charlotte came along in 1816, followed by Patrick Branwell in 1817. He was given his mother’s maiden name as a middle name, but it was the one by which he was known. Maria gave birth to two more children, Emily in 1818, and finally Anne in 1820.

Unfortunately, in January 1821 when Anne had just turned one, Maria began to feel unwell. She became gravely ill, and died in the September, likely from some form of cancer. Four years later in 1825, the two eldest children, Maria, aged 11, and Elizabeth, aged 10, also died. Poor Patrick Brontë was destined to outlive his whole family, with Branwell and Emily dying in 1848, Anne in 1849, and finally Charlotte in 1855.

The Brontë children were all very intelligent and, as we know, excellent writers. Most would assume their literary prowess was inherited from their learned father, but in fact their mother was talented in that department too, as Charlotte discovered when her father gave her some letters that Maria had written to him during their courtship, 40 years earlier.

“It was strange now to peruse, for the first time, the records of a mind whence my own sprang,” she wrote, “And most strange, and at once sad and sweet, to find that mind of a truly fine, pure, and elevated order…There is a rectitude, a refinement, a constancy, a modesty, a sense, a gentleness about them indescribable I wish she had lived and that I had known her.”

Isn’t it fascinating where the topic of using maiden names as middle names has led me? I wonder where I will end up next week?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 12th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 10th Dec 2025

Don’t call me Nanny!

My boys with their Dutch grandparents, who were known as Opa (Grandad) and Oma (Grandma). At home, we used Nonny and Grandad to refer to their English grandparents.

A couple of weeks ago I discussed the subject of nominative determinism where a person ends up in a career that reflects their surname. My ballet teacher was called Miss Toes, and my son reminded me that his boss, who was a joiner, was called Mr Stick. Such names sound like characters from Roger Hargreaves’ Mr Men books, with famous examples including Mrs Berry the Baker (Mary), Mr Bolt the Sprinter (Usain), Miss Stepanova the Hurdler (Marina), and Mr Crapper the Sanitary Engineer (Thomas)

Lynn Catena used to know a music teacher called C. Sharp, and Deborah Steed revealed: “My husband worked at a bank with a guy called Nick Money and I used to refer clients in need of a medical to Dr Death.”

I’m not sure how I’d feel being sent to see Dr Death! I am sure there are many more wonderful examples out there, so do get in touch if you have any to share.

I was contacted by Mary Harrison again after she’d read my column featuring her story about a new baby named ‘Mr Harry’ after her husband, who’d raced the expectant parents to hospital in his car.

“Great amusement among my family to see my name in print!” she says. “Since our 55-year-old son was four when we left Kenya, Mr Harry will probably be 51. Sadly, we have no photographs of him; but if he went on to secondary school he would probably have changed his name. Pupils had to confirm their names when filling in the forms for their final exams, and were told they would not be able to change them again afterwards…thank you for all the interesting articles you write!”

I also revealed last week that my sister and husband are due to become grandparents in May next year, and are wondering what they might be called when the time comes.

Alison Davies got in touch to say: “I’m plain old Grandma but love it. I have two beautiful grandsons. I think you refer back to what you called your own grandparents. I’m not a fan of Nanna – just personal preference…My mum as a great grandma is known as GG.”

She is not the only GG I’ve come across. Mary Raynar says: “I’m Granny. My granny was Nanna and my mum was Granny Marie to my children and GG to her great grandson.”

In my own case, we referred to my grandparents as Nana and Grandad Walker and Nana and Grandad Smith, which seems quite formal. By the time my own children were born, Nana Walker was the only remaining great grandparent, and they referred to her less formally as Nana Mary.

Billy Goode states firmly: “It’s Granny and Grandad. If you’re another name you’re the secondary grandparents.” He’s saying that tongue in cheek, of course, and clarifies: “I’m just making the point that everyone thinks what they say is the right one! My mum had a nana not a granny. I’ll ask Dad what he had!”

I wonder if there is competition between the opposing ‘grands’ as to nabbing the preferred term first. For my children, the boxing gloves were not needed because their paternal grandparents were Dutch, and thus Oma and Opa.

Janet Pearce has a lovely name: “I am Bibi, which is Swahili for grandmother because I was born in Tanzania and my daughter suggested it.”

A friend suggested it should be up to the children to decide what they want to call their grandparents (which is how my mum came to be Nonny). But of course, these names only come about once your baby can talk, and so a decision does need to be made before that. Some grandparents can be quite determined, as Clare Proctor discovered: “My maternal grandmother was something of a snob and said she was Grandma, not Nanny, because “Nannies are people you pay to look after the children!” I became a Grammy in April – my daughter suggested it as an alternative to Granny, which I thought I would hate (so aging, darling!) but actually I am so besotted with my beautiful granddaughter that I don’t care what she calls me!”

And that is a sentiment that I am sure I will share if I am ever fortunate enough to experience grandparenthood.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 28th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 26th Nov 2025

Hey Nonny! No?

My niece Eleanor and husband Ben shared some exciting news this week! Baby Walker is due in May next year!

Do you remember two weeks ago I mentioned that I had no immediate relatives that would be able to carry on the family name of Walker? That was until my niece Eleanor happened to marry into a totally separate family of Walkers.

Her mum, my sister Janet, was delighted: “It’s lovely to have another Walker back in the family.”

Having read the column, my own mum said: “I wasn’t bothered to lose my surname ‘Smith’ as there were still millions of ‘Smiths’ in the world. But now I’m a ‘Walker’ and there are millions of them too!”

Alison Davies recommended a rather drastic way to reclaim your own surname: “Get divorced! I did and went back to my family name.” She adds: “I did sneak Davies in as a middle name for my eldest.” Although having said that, getting divorced is not that drastic if you consider around half of us married people do it in the end.

Jane Ridley did the same as Alison when naming her son: “I couldn’t bear to give up my maiden name as I’m the last of the Ridleys. Bobby’s middle name is Ridley. My husband’s middle name is his grandmother’s maiden name of Powell.”

Since I’ve become aware of the convention of preserving a family name in children’s middle names, I discovered that so many people have embraced it, and yet it never occurred to me to do it with any of my boys.

Sarah Mason says: “Both my boys have Mason as part of their middle names. I wanted them to have my surname somewhere! Hopefully they might continue the tradition, although it may well be difficult for my youngest as his partner is from Chile and they keep their mother’s surname and just add to it.”

That’s an interesting convention, and I feel it’s rather enlightened of Chile to ensure the female name is so prominent. But does it also mean that it leads to really long surnames?

Janet Pearce adds: “My late husband was the last male of his family to have children. He had three sons but none of them have had children and are unlikely to, so that branch of the family name will die out. He was sad about it, but I don’t worry about these things!”

Kate Broad says: “I will never understand why women changed and continue to adopt their husband’s name.”

And I agree to some extent, because if I had my time again, I probably would not adopt my husband’s name, or at least would combine mine and his in some way.

Clare Powell’s family used an interesting method to preserve a name: “My husband’s dad had Slingsby as a middle name, as did his grandfather. It was a family surname, but we didn’t use it – unless you count naming the cat Slingsby!”

Of course, we live in a patriarchal society that has been that way for centuries, where the male line dominates. But there are cultures across the world where women have always led the way. In India, the Khasi tribe has a matriarchal structure where children take on their mother’s name and girls inherit the wealth. Mosuo (China) and Minangkabau (Indonesia) both have matriarchal societies where women are heads of the household and property is passed down the female line. In Kenya there is a village called Umoja which was founded by women who rebelled against patriarchal oppression and domestic violence.

Since I wrote my original piece, I have received some absolutely wonderful news! Eleanor and husband Ben are expecting their first child and Baby Walker is due in May next year. It is all rather fitting, because both my dad and myself were born in May (and even though it is not our family branch, we are very happy to hang on to the coattails of another set of Walkers!).

My sister and imminent grandparent Janet is debating how she would like to be referred to once the baby comes along. Should she be Granny, Grandma, Nan or Nana? Families often have their own quirky names for grandparents and I’ve heard ‘Gangan’, ‘Pops’ and ‘Runny and Dumper’. When my eldest began to talk, he could not pronounce ‘Granny’ and so my mum became ‘Nonny’. Twenty-nine years later, Nonny she remains.

Did you call your grandparents anything unusual? Let me know!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 14th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 12th Nov 2025

Royal intervention for grieving mother

Brothers John, Alfred, Frederick and George Smith from Barnard Castle who were all lost during World War I. The first son to be killed, Robert, is not on this photograph, so perhaps it was taken after he had died. Credit: Smith family

As we approach Remembrance Day (11th November), it seems appropriate to continue on the theme of the brave souls who perished while serving their country in war.

Claire Dunstan has been in touch to mention a memorial garden with benches that she remembers at the top of Broughton Road in the town of Malton. She says they were placed there as a tribute by school friends of the fallen men. I could find out very little about this small garden, so next time I am in Malton, I will go and have a look for myself (it is separate to the main Malton War Memorial at the junction of Horsemarket Road and Yorkersgate).

She also recalls: “There was woodwork by Mousey Thompson in the Green Man Hotel in memory of the Malton soldiers that never came home. Such a shame that it is shut now…the Mouseman furniture was paid for by family and friends.”

It makes me wonder what furniture it was and and in what form the soldiers were commemorated – presumably by having their names inscribed on the furniture? Perhaps there is someone reading this who knows the full story, and can tell us where that furniture ended up.

Claire used to live in the Welsh village of Llangwn which commemorated the 100th anniversary of the First World War in 2014 with a specially-written opera. According to the Llangwyn Local History Society, there were at least five sets of brothers from the area who served. One of the saddest stories involved the John brothers. In 1917, older brother Edwin John was shot at Lens in Northern France. His younger sibling, James, went to his aid but was killed while cradling his body.

The trauma experienced by families after such tragedy is hard to imagine, and similar stories will have been repeated time and again. But there can be few that are more poignant than the one to which reader Tony Eaton drew my attention. Tony first contacted me after reading my column mentioning the Pals Battalions a few weeks ago. This time he wrote: “On the theme of lost brothers…on the Barnard Castle War Memorial there are the names of five Smith brothers who died in World War I. There was a sixth son and their mother petitioned Queen Mary for help in having him brought home.”

Barnard Castle resident Margaret Smith suffered more than anyone should when she lost five of her six sons to WWI. Her story echoes the plot of the 1994 Steven Spielberg film Saving Private Ryan, where a group of soldiers are sent on a mission to locate James Ryan and return him to his family following the deaths of his three other brothers.

In our real life case, Private Robert Smith, 22, of the Durham Light Infantry, died on September 19, 1916, followed by Corporal George Smith, killed in action in November 1916, aged 26. Private Frederick Smith, aged 21, and eldest son John, 37, were killed in action in 1917. And lastly, Alfred, 30, perished in August 1918.

It was the local vicar’s wife, Mrs Bircham (not in fact the boys’ own mother) who was so moved by the tragedy that she felt compelled to write to Queen Mary, consort to King George V, on Margaret Smith’s behalf. She received the following reply from the Queen’s private secretary:

“I am commanded by the Queen to … convey to Mr and Mrs Smith of Bridgegate, Barnard Castle, an expression of Her Majesty’s deep sympathy with them in the sad losses they have sustained by the death of their five sons. He added that the Queen “has caused Mr and Mrs Smith’s request concerning their youngest son to be forwarded for consideration of the war authorities.”

With Her Majesty’s intervention, Margaret’s last remaining son, 19-year-old Wilfred, was allowed to return home to be with his mother. He went on to marry and have a family of his own, and died in 1968 at the age of 69. His descendants still live locally, and the war memorial featuring his five brothers’ names can be seen in the grounds of the Bowes Museum in Barnard Castle.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 31st and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 29th Oct 2025