Visitors’ Book

Further to the comment below, I have worked out that Elizabeth was three months pregnant with her second daughter, Sarah, when Pyle met her. I thought you all might like the whole of Edmund Pyle D.D.'s letter to 'Molly' Clarke / Mary Jacob, the Dean of Sarum's daughter: [The Dean of Norwich mentioned top and bottom, was Dr. Thomas Bullock (24 March 1694 – 30 May 1760). 'Mrs.B' is not Mrs. Bullock, as she died in 1740 and he did not re-marry.]

Buxton Bath in the Peak of Derbyshire Sept. 16. 1745

Madam
I dare say you'll be surprised to see from whence this is dated, & perhaps not less so when you see whose name is at the End of it. The Dean of Norwich, who uses the waters of this Place by advice of his Physicians, would needs bring me hither with him. And as we were talking, last night, of our Norwich friends, I felt a strong impulse upon my mind, to give you an account of this extraordinary Place, & the agreable manner of our living in it.

Buxton, is the Bath of the Northern & Western Counties, & imitates and, as far, as it can, rivals that of Sommersetshire in gaiety & expense. The Waters are warm as milk, & are exceedingly pleasant either to drink or bathe in. We live here in one great House situated in a Bottom, & surrounded with vast, bleak, barren, black Hills. All the Walks & Gardens about it are works of Art & Expense, so, you may be sure, are not of any great extent. Here are 40 of us of both sexes, & often more, who strive, in every way we can, to make the place pleasing to each other. We live, as follows. At 6 in the Morning Proclamation is made that the Bath is ready for the Gentlemen; and when They have done, The like notice is given to the Ladies, who are one third more in Number. Tis very pretty (is it not ?) to see a Train of Charmers tripping along, with the Looseness & negligence of their Bathing Dress; & not less delightful to see them return, with Rosy-Cheeks, & dripping Locks, like Venus's Retinue, just risen, with their Mistress, from the Sea. As they pass & repass, all Liberty of saying Tender Things is allowed; & he bids fairest to be the Happy Man of the Day, who succeeds best in the exercise of his Imagination and display of his Wit, upon this delicate occasion. At 9 Coffee, Tea, Chocolate are drank, to the Sound of Musick, which, added to the spirits, & florid Looks, given by the Bath, makes that Repast be taken with great Chearfulness. Thence, till twelve, We walk in the Gardens & Groves (raised here in spite of Nature) drinking the Waters; and all manner of innocent Gallantry goes forward. At 12 the Minister of the Parish reads prayers, in the Dining Room, with great Gravity, & is attended by All with great Decency. Then All Hands to the Toilet. 'Twixt one & two we dine, at a Long Table, very well served, Musick playing; and after a few Glasses we go to Cards, Bowls or Billiards, or walk, Converse 'till 5, when Coffee is brought. Then to the Gardens again, & Drink the Waters, or Rove about the Hills and Vales. I sat down to write this at my return from walking in a most delicious Vale, of its kind called The Lover's Walk; whither many of us resort, often times, in pairs. On each side 'tis Rocky, to a degree of Height that is almost astonishing. On the left hand a River runs, murmuring along, & breaking into a great number of Cascades. The Bottom is a fine Fury. A person of the Country, as he passes here is in no surprise to see a Fair one's Hand in yours, nor does the Nymph her self make any struggles to change the attitude, upon the appearance of a stranger. Our Servants see their principals walking together, in a stile of Dalliance, without turning back; and it has happen'd, e'er now, that a Lady has given her orders to her Male or Female Servant, with your Humble Servant's arms about her waist. These kind of Freedoms, (especially in the valley) give no offence, either to the Fair Subjects with whom they are taken, or to accidental Looker's on: 'Tis the way of the Place – where tho' there is All Liberty, yet there is all Decorum.
I am very sorry, & perhaps, tho' you may laugh at first, yet you'll think I've Reason I am sorry to say, that, as to taking no Offence, at the Familiarities just now spoken of, I am obliged to Mention one Exception: there being here, at this present writing, a Dissenting Teacher, who has been observed, several times, to turn up the Whites of his eyes, on seeing strong proof made of the necessity of a Further Reformation by a certain Doctor of Divinity of your acquaintance's being engaged frequently, & visibly too, in a Tender & ticklish manner, with a piece of very Sweet Lancashire Flesh & Blood. Not to mention that several Females of the Poor Man's Congregation being here, and seeing the same, are in a hopeful way of renouncing their errors, and coming into the Church, whose Clergy they perceive, can add such moving Practice to their Pathetic Preaching. But to return –
Twixt 7 & eight we go to supper, Music Playing, & our Fare being of the Lightest Sort; Jellies, Syllabubs, Creams, and so forth, Dancing, which presently follows, carries it off, and we go very light (except our Hearts) to bed at Eleven; very few being tempted by Cards or the engagement of Conversation, to sit up later.
Thus the Days pass here – in an easy, idle, giddy manner. Care is banish'd, Thought dare not show his Face. All is jollity, gaiety & frolick.
This place is chiefly supplied with company by the Counties of Derby, Stafford, Chester and Nottingham. As many persons come hither of those that have too much health, (if you will allow that expression) as of those that have too little. The Ladies are really very agreeable; 'tis pity most of them have such a broad way of speaking, but I find that use presently reconciles one to it. I can't say much for the Gentlemen – most of those I've seen being Clodpoles. 'Tis very much the way here, as in all such places, to fall in to small parties, and stick to a few, with whom you partake in engagements of pleasure. I have had the good Fortune to be taken into the best of these Subdivisions – By the Lancashire Lass above mention'd's saying to me in a very pretty manner, That when they heard there was a Doctor of Divinity come They had no notion of any thing but going down o'their Knees & asking his Blessing – there having been but two persons of that Quality in this part of the world in the last 50 years, – and they such Solemn Things – that 'twas amazement to her to see a man of that Character, so young – so without Austerity, & with such a Spice of Gallantry in Him. This you're sure brought us soon to be acquainted, & I was, very easily, introduced to her set of Friends. – Where there was a Lady – O! may I name her? – One Mrs Seward; of about the age of 34; possessed of every Charm that can enter into the Composition of a Human Person. A Face, such as a Painter, of the chastest & most elegant Imagination, would give to an Angel. A Stature and shape, such as Poets give to Goddesses of the first Dignity. A Voice, melodious beyond conception. An Understanding, sufficient to make amends for the want of Common Sense in half The Sex. And a Manner of Address, in which there is such an Equality between the sweetness of its Familiarity, towards you, & the Dignity, with which it demands the highest Regards to herself, from you – that 'tis impossible to tell which of them to admire most. This (almost) Divine Creature was Daughter to a Staffordshire Schoolmaster, and is Wife to a very clever Clergyman, who is well prefer'd in this neighbourhood.
Would to God She had been unappropriated – or that I had never seen her! I don't doubt but you'll be most Insolently merry, upon this last Wish of my poor Heart. Well! 'Tis a just Judgement upon him – He – that might so often have been happy – and would not – now to be tormented – for the worst of, & with the longing after – what cannot be had. He's serv'd right – I'm glad o'nt.
Madam I submit my self to the Severity of your Wit, which yet I hope will be abated when we meet by the workings of Mercy (so natural to you) towards an old Friend, who, if he is really a Fool, in this Case, is so unavoidably, & confesses himself to be so. I am your most Humble & Obedient Servant – E: Pyle

Services attend you from The Dean & Mrs B. with whom you are a prime favorite

I was very pleased to find and read Judith Patrick's 'SEWARD Family in Lichfield - Thomas (1708-1790) and Anna (1742-1809)'

I have, from a cousin, a letter from 1745, written from Buxton Spa, describing how customers spent their time there then. It also has this wonderful description of Anna's mother.
This is how Edmund Pyle, D.D. described Elizabeth (Hunter) Seward in his unpublished 1745 letter to Norwich-born 'Molly' Clarke (Mary Jacob) a daughter of John Clarke, Dean of Sarum/Salisbury:

"Where there was a Lady – O! may I name her? – One Mrs Seward; of about the age of 34; possessed of every Charm that can enter into the Composition of a Human Person. A Face, such as a Painter, of the chastest & most elegant Imagination, would give to an Angel. A Stature and shape, such as Poets give to Goddesses of the first Dignity. A Voice, melodious beyond conception. An Understanding, sufficient to make amends for the want of Common Sense in half The Sex. And a Manner of Address, in which there is such an Equality between the sweetness of its Familiarity, towards you, & the Dignity, with which it demands the highest Regards to herself, from you – that 'tis impossible to tell which of them to admire most. This (almost) Divine Creature was Daughter to a Staffordshire Schoolmaster, and is Wife to a very clever Clergyman, who is well prefer'd in this neighbourhood.
Would to God She had been unappropriated – or that I had never seen her! I don't doubt but you'll be most Insolently merry, upon this last Wish of my poor Heart. Well! 'Tis a just Judgement upon him – He – that might so often have been happy – and would not – now to be tormented – for the worst of, & with the longing after – what cannot be had. He's serv'd right – I'm glad o'nt.
Madam I submit my self to the Severity of your Wit, which yet I hope will be abated when we meet by the workings of Mercy (so natural to you) towards an old Friend, who, if he is really a Fool, in this Case, is so unavoidably, & confesses himself to be so. I am your most Humble & Obedient Servant – E: Pyle"

In one of the published letters to Dr Kerrich he says:-

LETTER XXIII (Addressed to To the Rev. Dr. Kerrich) "Novr 2d, 1745."Dear Sir, I've been afraid to see you or write because the Small Pox is much here. As to wine, I always have mine in a vessel & bottle it at home. I have my |- now in the house, & shall bottle it in a few days. I doubt not but your part is ready to bottle, & I will give proper orders about it, & the bottles. What times! Have you associated & subscribed, & been abused for so doing, like most of your Cloth? You know, I trust, that I was with the Dean of Norwich five weeks at Buxton, a warm bath in the Peak of Derbyshire. I am the better for the journey and the waters, as is the Dean. There I saw one Mr. Seward who attended his Brother (Frank) in his last illness & knows you, & presents you his service. He is a very agreeable man, well prefer'd in that country, and has a wife, who seems to have all the charms of body & mind that a human person can have, and is worth any man's going as far as the Peak to see & converse with."

I am, dear Badsey Society, your most Humble & Obedient Servant,

Peter Maxfield.

I recently came across this unpublished contemporary poem I transcribed about the Great Storm of 1703. Written by my 6 x great-uncle, Quaker John Kelsall. He seems to be blaming the wrath of God for the event. This is one of 120 of his poems yet to be transcribed.

A Poem: or Lamentation for and
Warning to the Inhabitants of England,
Occasioned by the late Storm in 9mo 1703.

Alas England! alas! thy dolefull State,
For thee I grieve, and thee compassionate,
My native Land, wherein first Breath I drew,
And wo is me, I liv'd thy Sins to view!
Who rules on high, the Omnipotent God,
Hath spar'd thee oft from his correcting Rod,
Whenas the Nations that adjacent be,
Have felt his Hand, with due Severity.
Thy Graneries have sweld with Plenty great
Thou store to store doth long Accumulate
From y[?] which doth thy Neighbring Realms befall
The Curse of War, Captivity and Thrall,
Thy gracious God Thee fig[?] hath kept,
When as thy foes on Thee their Teeth have whet.
But now I pray consider well and see,
Why such great favour are bestow'd on Thee,
And be not proud, nor [illegible] forget ye Hand,
That thus with Dainties hath enrich'd thy Land.
Nor yet [illegible] impute it fondly to thy merit,
That Peace and Plenty thou doth thus inherit,
Will sin th'art clog'd, yea sin aloud doth cry,
Thy evil Deeds have ecchoed to the Sky;
They have provok'd the just and Holy One,
And his Dear Son, who sits upon the Throne;
Who like a Father or a mother dear,
His scourging Rod, and [illegible] word doth often spare,

And milder ways, and methods takes in hand,
That thou might fear, and in his Awe might stand.
In this thy God hath been most fully kind,
In ev'ry Age, being for thy Good inclin'd;
He hath not spar'd his Servants forth to send,
His messengers their very Life to spend;
Thee for to warn of thy approaching Fate,
E're it was come, or fully was compleat;
But oh! alas! Thou hast rebellions been,
His warnings then, as nothing didst esteem.
From day to Day thou hast increas'd his Ire,
[illegible] that in his Holy Breath a Fire
Was kindled, and his Judgements on Thee came,
That thou might dread, and not blaspheme his Name.
O! hath he sent ye Direfull Curse the Plague
Which in thy Cities hath vast Havocke made;
Yea in a moment oh! let it not pass
Out of thy mind, how dreadfull then it was,
With its devouring Rage hath thousands slain,
Nor its strong force could humane strength restrain,
Remember now by his own Permission
He hath reduc'd thee unto great Contrition,
By Civil Wars, which have thy Kingdom rent,
tho' monas[?] thy People for Destruction sent.
And mostly too under the fair Pretence
Of God his Worship, with such Violence!
But still because they were unfaithfull found
The Chief have been debas'd unto ye ground,
He also hath by [illegible] his Commission sent
Into thy Coast, ye dreadfull Element,

The wasting Fire, which hath to ashes torn
Thy Buildings proud, and left them quite forlorn.
Ah, London thou, who Great thyself dost deem,
An Object sad hast to spectators been;
And strange it is methinks [illegible] would have
Like to thy Streets, a Heart, not to engrave
The sad Effects of such a dismal Day,
In memory, neer for to slide away;
Nor yet hast thou observ'd th' Almighties Hand,
Which hath been laid so heavy on thy Land.
But like unto some stubborn idle Jade,
That from the whip, and Curb Escape hath made,
Forthwith returns unto her old Career,
In Wantonness herself to fully cheer.
So thou, tho smitten, hast not yet return'd,
Nor for thy sins, nor Folly truly mourn'd.
But when thou saw the frowning Face of God,
Somewhat apas'd, and he with drawn his Rod;
Like those that on the foishing Waves remain,
And [illegible] fear, oh! how they do complain,
And vowes do make, ye God would still the Seas,
Rebuke the Storm, and grant them Rest and Ease;
But when they see Olympus Face appear,
With Camlan hue, and milder Gals to steer,
Come then say they lets chear our Hearts, for we
This ugly, horrid Storm no more shall see.
This is thy Fate, this is thy Crying Crime,
Nothing doth work on thee for to incline
Thy self to Good, repeat[?] Judgements are
No sooner gone, but still thou dost repair

Unto thy Foolishness and Vanities,
And to exalt thyself in Sin devise;
And yet we see a loving Father doth
Observe his Child offend, and yet as foath
For to correct him, suffers him to run,
Untill his measure fully up be come,
So when he shall return to visit, he
May execute with dread severity.
This is thy Fate, oh! England, long thy God,
Hath favour'd thee, and spar'd his scourging Rod.
The Earth and Air, the Fire and Water too,
Have been long bound, nor added to thy Woe;
Till that of late, the the great and mighty One,
Look'd down from heaven, from his azure Throne,
And did espie thee, how ye thou had loos'd
Full Reins to Sin, and vicious ways had choos'd.
His messenger of greater Judgements he
Sends forth before, that thou might warned be,
And call to mind his great and mighty Pow'r,
Who's able to destroy thee in one Hour.
Of this thou hast some symptoms lately been,
And with his, angry Rod hast whipped been.
Which is the subject of my Muse's Flight,
In faithfull Verse, and Numbers to recite;
Touch'd from on high with an Internal Sense,
And animated with an Influence,
Of Cordial Love, of Pity and Compassion,
For Thee oh! England, a most nutrifull Nation.
Whether that God, the searcher of ye Reins,
And who the Purpose of men restrains;
Did see in thee Superbity arise,
And that his Gifts thou did not rightly prize,

But was so fond, as in thy heart to say
That thou was blest, by thy own hand & way;
I cannot tell, or that thou did confide,
To thy own strength and did thy Foes deride,
Cause that thy Seas with a most potent Fleet,
Were cover'd ore, were stov'd and man'd compleat.
What ere it was, the mighty God above,
Did see it meet for to chastise in Love.
And for that End, a mighty Wind commands,
With houbled air loosing the fluid Bands,
And Floods of Rain with Thunder mixt & Fire,
That scatter'd Tenors of his dreadfull Ire,
Where ere they came, but more especially
Thy Wooden Walls, were battered thereby:
[illegible] [illegible] [illegible] a minutes space,
And sink ith' Deeps, ah! most deplored Case.
On Land thy House topsyturvie thrown,
Thy Flocks and Cattle Inundations drown.
The Southren Parts did feel the greatest stroake,
The Northren left were by its Fury shoke.
How many Towns and Cities shatter'd fore!
But London most and Bristol do implore;
Whose Buildings proud and house much were rent,
But Worship-places chiefly do Lament;
An Omen sad, wch I'll in silence [illegible],
On it I might, but shall [illegible] [illegible] [illegible].
On Land were killed, and hurt no number small,
Both high and low, both Rich and poor did fall;
The learned Kidder who [illegible] 45 years [illegible] had held
The Bishoprick of Bath & Wells was kill'd.

His Lady too with many more of note,
Which were too large here sev'rally to quote.
The Queen herself and Prince her royal mate
Did narrowly escape its deadly Fate;
But David's God, hath sent this direfull Storm,
[illegible] in its fans, preserv'd em both from harm;
And David-like, let us an Altar raise,
To worship him, with holy thanks & praise.
Thus much by Land we find, by sea much [illegible]
was felt the Effects of the dreadfull Blow.
Oh! England, England, had not God above,
In this his Visit call'd to mind his Love,
[illegible] stay'd his hand ye was so stretched out,
Thou might have been forlorn ere now, no doubt.
Who shall the Damage, who the Loss compute?
Thou hast sustain'd? I don't pertain to dot.
Listen to Severn's Banks, and Thames's shore,
They cry aloud, and do their Loss implore:
The Ocean too doth eccho forth the same,
[illegible] Lightning like runs the unwelcome fame;
Such a Grave man, such a Commander rare,
Such a fine merchant, such a man of war,
Are sunk ith' Deep, are dash'd against a Rock,
Are split in twain, yea in the very Dock.
The Cables broke, the'r to the Ocean gone,
Nere to be seen again ten hundred to one.
No Harbour safe, Plymouth & Portsmouth cry,
[illegible] under the Weight, and Danger seems too nigh.
The Deal and Goodwin-sands do sorely bleed,
And of their Loss a weeping count do give.

Thirteen men of War, and no number small
Of able men, and valiant Captains fall.
- Traffick-ships, Barges, Lighters not afew,
This dismal Tempest wreck'd, with ate their Crew.
Yea such its Fury and unusual Ire,
The raging Billows far surmounted higher
Than their custom'd Bounds, huge Breaches make,
Old Ocean larger Latitude doth take;
The trembling Peasants many Leagues around,
Behold Their Flocks, their Houses, and their Ground
All under water. -
But stay, my muse, and labour not in vain,
It is not possible thy shallow strain,
Should summe up all the miseries we now,
Do labour under from that direfull Blow.
The nobler Pens I hope will [illegible]delay,
To depict, and declare that wofull Day.
Oh! England England, mourn in thy sad Fate,
[illegible] now commemorates.
On this Condition, I'll be plain not rude,
And afterwards I shortly shall conclude.
I know th'art big with thoughts, and wont to say
That God is gracious to thee day by day;
[illegible] grants thee Peace and Plenty in great store,
Thy Gates are ope, thy Cups full nummore.
Peace and Plenty seem to smile on thee,
In haughtiness thou scorneth Povertie.
Yet know oh! Britain, for thy sake alone,
Or for thy Virtue's sake, this is not done.
In thee there is a Remnant, holy, pure,
In Faith most solid, and in Doctrine sure; Pray

They are cut like unto the smoaking flax,
Or bruised Reed, yet great Jchovah's Acts
Shall stand, his Word is also sure for'ere,
Therefore his tender Lambs in Safety are.
And tho they seem as nothing in thy Eye,
Are hated too, and sham'd with Jgnomy:
Yet I must tell thee for the sake of those
Who in thee, from thee by the Lord are chose,
Art thou now Bless'd, Deserv'd Judgmts stay'd,
Which quickly might have thy Destruction made.
Yea thou art favour'd, like to Potiphar,
By faithfull Joseph, and his prudent Care.
Or Egypt's King, for Israel's sake alone,
So are on thee ye Blessing pourd down.
And yet like Pharaoh (which I do lament)
Thou of ye same art wholly ignorant;
And hence is made thy much deplored state
More miserable, and more desperate:
Oh! that the Highest woud but ope thy lips,
And show thee yet the ways thy sin and Vice.
And then to God oh! that thou would return,
And them forsake, break off, repent & mourn.
E're that his vengefull wrath be poured out,
Justly to bring thy wretched Fate about;
Js oft [illegible] the Cry of one that wishes Thee,
True Happiness, and real Felicity.
Dolobran
Anno 1704
J.K.

---
HISTORICAL CONTEXT: THE GREAT STORM OF 1703

The "Great Storm" of 1703 (November 26–27, OS) is regarded as one of the most destructive natural disasters to ever hit Britain [cite: 1, 2]. It caused immense damage across England, particularly in London, Bristol, and southern coastal areas [cite: 1, 2].

The event prompted a wide range of contemporary responses, from theological interpretations to journalistic reporting [cite: 1, 2].

Daniel Defoe: Perhaps the most famous contemporary chronicler of the disaster, Daniel Defoe published *The Storm* in 1704 [cite: 1, 2]. Defoe’s account was ground-breaking for its time as it was one of the first works of systematic journalism [cite: 1, 2]. He actively gathered eyewitness accounts through newspaper advertisements, compiling personal testimonies from across the country to create a vivid and accurate historical record [cite: 1, 2]. Unlike Kelsall, who interpreted the event primarily as divine wrath, Defoe balanced the theological view (as was expected of the era) with a meticulous, data-driven approach to reporting the physical destruction and economic impact [cite: 1, 2].

Other Responses: The event was a national obsession [cite: 1, 2]. Sermons were preached across the country, interpreting the storm through the lens of God's judgement, similar to Kelsall’s perspective [cite: 1, 2]. Numerous pamphlets, broadsides, and poems were issued, all grappling with the sheer scale of the devastation—particularly the loss of ships and sailors, including the wreck of multiple Royal Navy warships [cite: 1, 2].

Hi, I worked on a plum farm in Evesham in the summer of 1978 and I'd like to revisit the area but can't remember the name or location of the farm. The owner was Jack Bent and he had a son who had been badly injured in an accident.
Thanks in advance
Andy

Hi there, I came across the written biography of Rev. Edmund Boggis and the memorial of his mother Elizabeth Mayor Stubbs Boggis. My mother is a Mayor (in Canada) and I've been doing extensive genealogy research on the Mayors in England. I am very fortunate that there are lots of records on the Mayors, but to come across a written bio is especially gratifying. Thank you for putting it together.

I am writing from Brazil as a descendant of the Gepp family, and I would like to express my sincere appreciation for the remarkable work of The Badsey Society.

It has been incredibly meaningful to discover my family’s history through your website. The care, depth, and dedication evident in your research have allowed me to connect with places, people, and stories that are part of my own lineage, despite the distance of time and geography.

This initiative is truly invaluable. It not only preserves the memory of Badsey, but also reconnects families across generations and continents.

I hope to visit Badsey in the near future and would be delighted to learn more about your work and the local history in person.

With gratitude and warm regards,
Rachel Gepp

In regards to the Linda Lake photos of Hannah Maria Pope. My great grandmother was Fanny Pope, Hannah's sister. I have a photo album of the family and imagine my surprise to see the same photo and others from New Zealand family where Fanny lived in Taranaki. Wanted to touch base as have lots photos I don't know who they are but because of the photo makes it easier. So reaching out to Linda Lake or others who could fill in the gaps .

Congratulations on your creation of such a comprehensive archive, it is truly inspirational. Having been active in local history for the past few years, your work has made me think that we need something similar for where I live, The Lenches.
Three years ago I published "Tales From The Lenches" and this has proved to be quite popular with over 400 copies sold to date. However we do not have an archive like that of the Badsey Society and this could be my next project!

What a treat to read Brian Smiths poem. A walk down the Green. As a child I used to run down Old Post Office Lane to get to the top road and Stewarts yard. On the way I would seethe converted double decker. Esme Jelfs and her husband Mr Dennick lived in it. He ran the chip shop at the bottom of Synehurst near the old school. The little white house mentioned, my grandparents live in it before George Addis. Wheatleys orchard I remember clearly and the huge horse chestnut tree, also the ducks who kept falling over they were drunk, having consumed waste from the building next door to the orchard where cider was made. I remember Arthur and Dolly they were a lovely couple also Prudence Stanley she was a school friend of mine I also remember clearly watching the men getting off Stewarts lorry arriving bak in the yard after a day up at Snowshill cold, wet and stiff from picking sprouts in the icy conditions.

Evelyn Hemming nee Haines

I have traced the Edgington family tree back to Badsey 1776. George Edgington born 1766 and died 1811. His wife Ann 1773-1811. Does anyone know of any previous family records of George, or where I can find older records.

What a marvelous idea

did you also consider using the 1939 register for a 1941 version qalthough that would be quit difficult of course

brillant work and idea

Very pleased to see that my friend Ron Sidwell is so well memorialised here. He was a wonderfully inspirational gardener, as well as a fine conversationalist - conversation and his homemade wines from nettles of whatever appealed in his garden went particularly well together. You can see the little film I made with him in 1988 here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FQGWiKSZe8Y
This version does not have the titles on. It was called "A Day in the Garden of Ron Sidwell" - a pilot for a series that never happened. Although this was broadcast on BBC2

How fitting is Terry Sparrows poem about the church - love reading it over and over. My Great Grandparents, Grandparents and Parents were married there.

I just want to correct an error in the information given about my parents, Ted & Margaret Parry. They moved to Wickham House in about 1951/2 and remained there until somewhere around the early 1970’s running it as a Guest House in the earlier years. They moved to 40 Manor Road in the early 70’s

My father in law was a market gardener in Offenham. Many years ago, sitting down for tea, he told us that it would rain by seven o'clock. I asked how he knew and said I must not laugh. When he told me that Buggins's Hoppers was a clear indication of rain. I did laugh! He described the long row of bubbly clouds on the horizon with a clear strip of sky beneath. It did rain. For years I have wondered where the phrase came from and whether it was or indeed still is in common use among market gardeners. If anyone knows please let me know and I can add a further riddle to the story. By the way I went to Badsey School around 1952.

Thank you very much to Terry Sparrow for his article on the Marshall family at The Wheatsheaf. He explains the changes clearly and confirms what my mother has told me.
I am a descendant of the Marshalls.

Hello readers my name is Lee Gibson I live in Doncaster South Yorkshire.
My Family we're the Moore family Richard Moore lived at Aldington Sidings cottage
Does anyone have any memories of the cottage in early years my great grandfather was Ernest more born 1896 in the
Cottage.
Does anyone know any of the Moore family modern descendents
They also lived at ivy courage chapel Lane Aldington
I look forward to hearing from anyone Email address lee.gibson124@yahoo.com
Thank you Lee Gibson.

My late father Michael Wheeler had an aunt Eva Cooke who lived in Robins Cottage in 1950 s onwards .
We found a photograph of the cottage with her writing on in 1950 in his belongings and would love to find out more about my great aunt and her family . We managed to find her on the a death register for 1976 but not sure where the gravestone is also .
Any information would be appreciated on the family .