I am someone who is a firm believer in drawing a line under things from the past, you can’t go back and change them, so there is no point dwelling on them.
But… I do dwell on one thing though and that is not finding out more about family members who either died before I was born or when I was too young to fully recall and appreciate those around me.
Both my mother and my much-loved aunt, for whatever reason, were always reluctant to be drawn into a conversation about their formative years
Why I never persevered and kept asking pertinent questions when I had the chance, I have no idea.
After bounding through my life, I am now more curious than ever to find out more about the people who passed on their genes to me. Maybe it is because I am beginning to feel my own mortality that I need to find out more about my forebears.
I have delved into my family history, on an off throughout the years, a distant cousin did an amazing job on my father’s side of the family years ago, but it has been picking up threads of my mother’s side of the family that is proving a little harder to investigate.
My aunt was born in 1921 in Constantinople, I had no idea until we went traveling together about twenty-five years ago. I had assumed she was born Kirkby Overblow, near Harrogate where my grandparents had lived and brought up their young family, but no, over 2000 miles away in post-war Constantinople, or Istanbul as we know it.
My grandmother was Greek and my grandfather a young corporal from the north of England. They met and fell in love whilst caught up in the ravages of WWI.
I have found a record of their British Armed Forces And Overseas Banns And Marriages at the British Embassy in Constantinople and it is there that the trail, thus far, has gone cold.
I maybe caught up in the romance of their story but I have to know more. How they met and why my grandmother was not in the country of her birth.
A story that will be continued…