Having toasted the ancestors at Halloween...

An unknown relative contacted me the next day.

This person comes from the line I had pretty much given up on, due to being unable to find much info about my mysterious paternal grandfather. I had traced part of the line back to the early 19th century and gave up, because what was the point if I couldn't verify anything about his actual life? I suspected he was adopted. Well, the DNA link is real and it's through his line, so hello Grandpa! Stop being so damned elusive!

The links go back to Belfast and County Down, where we bumped into an interesting name: Jardine. That's pretty old - though it does exist as a clan in Scotland, a Du Jardon, variant on that name, crossed the seas with William the Conqueror, so it would be a misnomer to automatically link it to Scottish-French ancestry. My relative's theory is that the family were originally Huguenots fleeing to Ireland from persecution in France. As far as I can see, the theory is based on two things; the French name, and the fact that the family all seemed to have a background in weaving and the linen industry, the skills through which Huguenots massively influenced the economy in what we now call Northern Ireland. Of course, we've barely started communicating on the matter, so maybe there will be more information to back this up.

The relative is immensely helpful but I am embarrassed because I have so little to offer by way of return. So I will phone some Scottish relatives today and see if I can get anything out of them. It's a little grim, because the recent family past has not been so easy, but it seems only polite, given this new contact's readiness to share info.

Why do I write about things like this, when so much else is going on? Because certain things are best discussed when finished, but genealogy is never finished, so one can rabbit on about it at any time.

Halloween moments; Donald and a Rat

Donald Trump isn't really my Halloween tale; clearly he belongs to everybody, as he turned up in a gaggle of skellies, ghouls, and vampires at my door. His face was perched on top of a very young person in a suit who had even gone to the trouble of painting their naturally tiny hands orange. Tickled to bits, I offered the trick-or-treaters a piece of chocolate each. 'I want it all!' Boomed Donald. He couldn't have it all, but he did get two pieces for being a most magnificent monster. It would have been great to take a photo but some parents get a bit angsty about that kind of thing. Can't blame them. He'll just have to stay a radiant moment of absurdity in my head. It reminded me of the Tales of the Alhambra, in which is recounted the supposedly true tale of a hellish army of hobgoblins and phantom moors seen on the mountains, with the grand inquisitor of Granada spotted among them.Everyone becomes a fairy tale in the end.

The Rat was a curiosity told to me at the weekend party. The hostess has a cat who semi-caught a baby rat, then just followed it as it scurried into the house. The rat has now taken up residence in the hole under the sink, or something like that. The cat doesn't seem to mind, and the rat sneaks out now and again to steal a bit of food. It's a toughie. Rats are sensitive smart animals but your average London rat is a pretty skanky character. She doesn't want to harm the rat, especially as it seems very young but what happens if it starts a family? And where is it pooing?

I have no solutions. My only suggestion is that she gives that cat a sound talking to.