Dodging the DNA Bullets

 

Family trees are funny things. Beyond living memory the people are just names and even further back you have so many ancestors there is nothing special about anybody. If Danny Dyer can trace his family tree back to Edward III then it’s all a bit ‘so what? My great grandfather x 40 was Aelfrog, warrior king and retained dustman of the north Saxons.’

The furthest I can go back (thanks to the Sussex Parish Registers being online) is Roger Sayers, a greengrocer from Horsham (1500-1575) and Johan, his mysterious wife. No more idea about either of them, but all I can picture is a Tudor version of Mr Hodges. Henry VIII visited Horsham in 1519, so I would hope Roger was able to see Harry in his prime.

To take this to the limit, I decided to do a DNA test. I also roped in my mum, who is gathering speed with dementia but still capable of spitting into a tube (this still makes her more capable than the Labour front bench). This would also finally end the speculation about mum’s Irish roots, especially as I’ve followed my Brady bunch back to the 1820s with no actual bogtrotting to be found. In fact, they are all from London (my grandad is a proper cockney, being born within the sound of Bow Bells in Monopoly’s cheapest property).

So, kits were ordered, phials gobbed into and the family DNA swamp was dispatched back to Ireland whence it came (possibly) to be tested.

My test came back first. BORING! You’d think one of my NNNNN whatever grannies could have banged a Mongolian for a bit of exotic, but no. Mostly English, a bit of sheepshagger, then what amounts to Saxon, Angle, Jute and Frisian (termed ‘North German Raider’ in some circles).

The Mem said that large dollop of Hun is concentrated in my ‘bossy’ gene but had entirely missed the ‘efficiency’ one, indicating the lack of skirting boards in the conservatory (14 years and counting…). And I’ve spent the last 25 years taking the widdle out of her Welsh ancestry, so that little avenue of pleasure is now closed.

No rubber dinghies with my lot

Meeting the Welsh

Then the old dear’s arrived with something of a shock: a Shock Jock, in fact…

It’s true, I am descended from the Isle de Bogs - Connacht, to be precise - but the real surprise is the Jockinese blood, which actually comes from my nan’s side. Now, the furthest I’ve gone back there is to Great Yarmouth in the late 1700s and they are all Norfolk mariners, so could the link be a visiting McMatelot? Anyway, none of that rubbish has made it into me so I can happily remain racist towards the more base elements of the Celtic fringe and my mum can continue to occasionally burst into the terrible Oirish accent beloved of American actors and Plastics.

The most disappointing aspect of this, however, is that there is no sign of my father’s known Huguenot ancestry, so that has potentially been blocked in the same way mum’s Scots and Irish traces have been weeded out. The only Huguenot artefact passed down to me is an old cupboard made by my Drouet-stock Great Grandfather. It needs a bit of repair work but sadly the German Efficiency gene didn’t make it either. Just ask the Mem.

A Cheesey Something

 Savoury scones this week:

Speaking of tasty things, Kim Wilde is currently winning in the battle of the totty views, being 9 times more popular than Jenny Agutter. Poor Clare Grogan is being beaten by the test card girl and Stephanie Zimbalist is one below my Cornish cream tea. You are a bunch of oddballs.

Has the Officers Call Been Silenced?

 Can’t help noticing the Sound Officers Call blog is kaput. I know Steve has posted irregularly over the past few months (I may not play, but I’m still a nosey bugger) so hopefully it is just a glitch and all is still well in the mess.

So what better way to invite a red-blooded male back to the fold than a photo of Kim Wilde? Yes, it is just an excuse to post more totty.

EDIT: more Heligan.

FFS….

Who needs toy soldiers…

 When you can bake!

I have returned from Cornwall with a new skill. Normally it’s some ECW plans, but that’s all behind me now. Although the Mem is rationing me in case my extant dodgy artery can’t take the pressure. Weren’t statins designed to facilitate clotted cream?

Otherwise, here’s some evening views from Heligan:

Clare Grogan shows her appreciation of the Duc de Gobin’s new dual purpose wargaming mat/window blind

 

Warrior Miniatures: a quick ‘thank you’

 Title says it all really! Lots of enquiries followed my previous post, so thanks to all for spreading the word. I see TMP has an outdated security configuration, so my trolling must have done some damage.

Anyway, to show my appreciation, here is a welcome repeat of Stephanie Zimbalist.

Warrior Miniatures

 

Read my new book “How to Grab the Attention of Men of a Certain Age”. 

Otherwise…

Warrior Miniatures is firing up again! John has enlisted the help of his granddaughter and her hubby to fire up the Quattro and get the figures moving once more. This is good news on several fronts, mainly that John will have something better to do in his old age than the normal elderly pastime of hanging around garden centre cafes.

Ropes are being learned and it may take some time to get into full production, so drop John a line if you want to know what is available. Some of the upgraded Napoleonics I produced may finally see the light of day!

If anybody out there has access to a forum (I seem to be banned from TMP, probably for all the trolling I was doing), please pass on the good news. 

 KBO