Notes from the life of a country ancestor

And no sooner had I mentioned the particular surname I was looking for, and its village connection, he straightaway launched upon a lively tale about Great Uncle Bob. Said gentleman had known him well apparently - "bud years since, mindstha!"

Hmm... small world, I thought.

Meeting Uncle Bob was to encounter the deadpan countenance: but if you looked hard enough, a twinkle was evident. The twinkle brightened considerably if my grandmother - who was Bob's sister - happened to be visiting with a grandchild or two.

Given that situation, and for pure devilment, he would deliberately annoy her by coming out with things like: "Noo then, weea's felted mi handkerchief?" - except that instead of 'handkerchief', he used a more basic description which brought titters from the children and a very stern look from Granny. Aware of rising success, he would continue, exclaiming: "Ah's all of a neb-drip, Dora!" - giving a great sniff into the bargain. Then, irrespective of gender, he would address the nearest grandchild to enquire: "Hez thou felted it, oor Philip?" - knowing full well there wasn't a youngster of that name in sight.

Great Uncle Bob was a shortish man, pink of face with hazel eyes and a white moustache, as I remember him. He was rarely seen without a flat cap, even when sitting tight up to his fireside at Rose Cottage, his Lealholm retirement home until 1961.

Entering Rose Cottage in my early years was to be met by the sweet aroma of garth apples drifting down the steep staircase, from where they were laid on the floor of a tiny attic, while just above the inner door (it opened to reveal a heavy, maroon draught curtain) hung the snarling mask of a stuffed fox with wooden-handled brush to match.

Uncle Bob told our Robert once, if not 100 times, that he remembered coming to Lealholm on the back of a flat cart from Houlsyke when he was one. That would have been the summer of 1883, and I still have the cart's backboard with great-grandfather's name upon it, plus 'Houlsyke - 1881' painted in fancy white lettering on a black ground.

Houlsyke is a neat little hamlet set between Danby and Lealholm. Seemingly smart and select these days in passing, during the late 19th century it was a-bustle with essential industries and stronghold of my grandmother's paternal ancestors, who spilled down from Westerdale.

But Uncle Bob never reckoned much to the place, and was inordinately fond of referring to it as the Devil's bottom and top - or dialect terms to that effect!

How he arrived at his conclusion is not recorded, but of course he was ever full of such flights of fancy.

Another of his favourite descriptions was presented as an earthy exclamation in broad Yorkshire, clearly recalling Lealholmside as covered in snow to a depth equal to the height of the human posterior in the month of June - a statement probably based on fact, for there were some harsh lingering winters in the area when he was a child.

Great Uncle Bob was a loveable, impish sort of man. A widower since 1940, his wife had died aged 61 after years in the village - the pair of them living at Beech Cottage, Bob's family home. Originally from Staffordshire, Ellen had worked for the local gentry, was highly respected in the community and an active member of the local Women's Conservative Association.

Bob carried on until his late 70s, but left little in the way of memorabilia. Like so many folk, the sum total of his existence remains a series of anecdotes - except for a couple of post-war credit receipts and a neatly-boxed civil defence medal posted to him in recognition of dutiful service in the Second World War. What he actually did I couldn't say, but he is certainly on file as employed at Danby Beacon in 1942 where four huge radar pylons and attendant masts dominated the skyline.

Fortunately, fleeting glimpses of Bob's personality were caught on camera - a few irreplaceable images my grandmother had kept, taken during the course of his long life in Lealholm, all of which I have lately been mounting and labelling lest, like so many old photographs of family, they float down the generations untitled like lost souls.

One photograph I treasure shows him in his late teens, circa 1900, in front of Lealholm's public house, then named the Board Hotel. Another is a fine study of Bob and Ellen early in their marriage - a period piece of great charm.

A further snap has Bob chatting to an unknown acquaintance on Lealholm bridge, while my illustration is of Bob as a village butcher some time in the late 30s, taken from a photograph once loaned to me for copying by May Beeforth, of Whitby - a niece of Bob's who was especially fond of him.

In characteristic pose, he stands outside the old slaughterhouse, today a fascinating shop in the business of selling bygones and second-hand books.

Another photograph in my care which I have seen published in a small way is rather sad, picturing Bob as old and frail, yet gamely standing in line with his special constable colleagues in the village. But there are some widely-known images in local books in which he could well have featured too.

Camera shots of villagers taken by professional photographer Tom Watson, of Lythe, for instance. He preserved for posterity a large crowd gathered to celebrate the coming of piped water to Lealholm on September 13, 1904. He also took pictures of the village's newly-erected First World War memorial on Wednesday, March 31, 1920, when our Robert, as the youngest inhabitant, and one Mr Scarth, as the eldest, each placed a silver coin beneath the monument's siting. Somehow I can't imagine Uncle Bob as having missed the chance of being snapped at those events.

The true value of well-documented photographs comes across strongly in local and family histories. This awareness was highlighted recently by the numerous millennium books produced by village communities throughout the region. Lealhom was one such, with wonderful reminiscences and photographs revealing the hard, elemental place it used to be compared to how it blooms today.

Great Uncle Bob has one or two mentions therein, and appears in a group photograph around the time his butchering days were finished and taken over by his nephew George Rhea.

And as Bob was such a likeable man, to my mind, so full of inventive nonsense and so much a part of the early 20th century Lealholm my mother knew so well, I thought to amplify him a little, hereby paying affectionate tribute to Robert Williamson esquire - country ancestor of note.

Updated: 11:38 Wednesday, December 03, 2003