I Don't Wanna Be a Pirate!

I finally bit the bullet and signed up to Ancestry DNA historical records and wow… just wow.

I traced all my dad’s great grandfathers back to the 1500s and came to a dead end at Nicholas De Venoix, who was born in Normandy, France, so that explains my penchant for cheese and wine and stripey t-shirts.



Scotto has declared since learning of this marital affiliation, 
"I shall be taunting people a second time and I shall cease to take showers and continue to speak in an outraaaageous accent."

My mother’s ancestral side is a much more mysterious and delightfully scandalous story of which I have made a quite insanely titillating and intriguing discovery… but I can’t tell you about it or not only will I be disinherited but I may wake up in my bed with the head of a Chihuahua on my pillow case.

Let’s just say that DNA reveals all.

Speaking of insane things, one of my great, great grannies died in an insane asylum in London, poor thing.

What… ? Runs in the family?

One of my great, great, great grandfathers was sentenced to 6 months hard labour at the Old Bailey for fraud and his name was Silas.

Finally there is someone exciting in the family history.

I’m calling my next pet, Silas.

I also had a great grandfather named, Solomon Catt and naturally my next cat will be called Solomon.

My great, great grandfather, John, was “heavily tattooed, wore an earring and a large beard, had worked on ships sailing the world, was very grumpy and scared all the children silly” and we suspect he was a pirate which, even though it’s no claim to fame, is thrilling all the same.

It was a relief to note that the majority of the grandparents lived to a ripe old age, even though one set spawned twenty children. One grandfather lived to one hundred so the good news is I’ll hopefully be around to annoy you for a little while yet.

 Unless of course, one of my ancestors decides they don't like my blog and tries to kill me from the 'other side' which I fear might be actually happening.

I walked out to feed the chickens today and saw this impaled on the chair I usually sit in.

I know... glamorous photo...

Seems a bit pointed (no pun intended).


So until we meet again… au revoir monsieurs and madames.
But tell me... got any family secrets?