This Is Our Lives

Like my son. I fill my days with my obsessions. I flit between them as the mood takes me, but I am always totally immersed in what ever my obsession of the moment is. Researching my family history is one such passion and it was this that introduced me to Scrapbooking and blogging. I long to know more about the people I research and follow all sorts of leads to try and understand their lives better. There’s nothing I’d like better than to find an old journal that records their thoughts and feelings, their views on life, the things that were important to them and what filled their days.

Like most places in England during 1918, Castle Bromwich was visited by the Spanish Lady, as the flu pandemic was known. For my husband’s family it was to have tragic consequences to which the local grave yard bears testimony. I know anecdotally that his Great-Grandmother and Great-Aunt both definitely died as a result within a day of each other during the Autumn wave of the virus, and there’s a very high possibility that it also claimed the life of his Great-Grandfather whose death is officially recorded as Bronchitis in March 1918.

Now as Britain prepares for the possibility of another flu pandemic, sparked in all possibility by a sudden mutation in the Avian flu virus H5N1, evidence from this last global tragedy might well prove crucial in providing answers that will prevent a similar disaster. I’d like to say that this is why I dragged Eric along to a local history talk on the effect of the 1918 pandemic in Warwick on Tuesday, so I’d have answers to ensure our safety and good health should a new pandemic occur. But that wouldn’t be true, it was because I’m just sad like that and I wanted to understand what it would have been like for my husband’s family living through that period.

Nationwide the pandemic caused 240,000 deaths, in Warwickshire alone 2,400 people died as a result. Worldwide it is estimated that between 40 and 100 million people died.

Official advice was given out via the newspapers which suggested that everyone should:

• Breathe through the nose
• Wash inside the nose morning and night drawing the liquid through the back of the nose and spitting it out through the mouth
• Sneeze night and morning
• Gargle with a weak solution of potash and common salt
• Avoid indiscriminate expectoration as dirtiness favours infection
• School closures were left to local authorities
• Keep in bed till the infection is gone
• Keep children away from patients
• Boil handkerchiefs
• Disinfect all areas
  

Doctors and pathologists of the period had seen flu before, but they knew they were dealing with something unique in 1918. On initial infection, the symptoms were much the same as any other flu, but a proportion of people who succumbed to the virus didn't improve as expected on the fifth or sixth day, and in fact they got worse. Doctors noted an unusual feature of the disease that spelt grave danger. Those patients who developed a lavender-grey hue over their face and ears, or heliotrope cyanosis as it is called, were facing imminent death. Pathology reports from 1918 describe very distinctive changes in lung tissue that were the likely cause of death in many victims and probably contributed to the heliotrope cyanosis. Healthy lung tissue is like a sponge filled with air, but in flu victims the lungs were filled with fluid containing red blood cells and immune cells – causing death by asphyxiation.

One newspaper report suggested that one doctor tried to treat this lack of oxygen circulating around the body by inserting tubes into a man’s chest to enable him to pump in oxygen from a cylinder. The report states that he left a nurse supervising the procedure who unfortunately fell asleep. When she awoke, the report claimed that the man had swollen up like a balloon, but with no lasting ill effects, the treatment apparently worked and he survived.

Another unique feature of the 1918 flu pandemic was the age profile that it attacked. The first wave of flu, at the start of 1918, was largely only fatal in the very young and the elderly. In the middle of 1918 there was a sudden change and the virus began killing healthy adults between the ages of 25-40. And then by 1919 the virus had reverted back to its old ways, targeting the very young and the elderly. This strange pattern of virulence is one of the mysteries of the great flu pandemic of the First World War.

Unlike today, when reports of bird flu infections are broadcast round the world in minutes, in 1918 there was no early warning system, no vaccine and no way of telling who might be next.

No one knows precisely where, when or how the 1918 pandemic began. The first recorded case came on March 8 1918 at Camp Fuston, in Kansas. However, British army medical reports suggest the virus could have been circulating in hospital camps in northern France as early as the winter of 1917, infecting soldiers weakened by three years of fighting and exposure to mustard gas. The first wave coincided with the arrival in Britain of American soldiers and spread outwards from the ports following the transport lines, particularly those of the railway. But it was the second wave, between September and December 1918, and the third wave, between February and April 1919, which were to prove devastating.

The flu pandemic left barely a family untouched. It is reported that it drove many a woman to suicide following the death of their husbands. Why it occurred and why it ended is still something of a mystery, although there are many theories. “The disease simply had its way. It came like a thief in the night and stole treasure.”

A few years ago, Eric's Aunt handed me a small box of photographs that she'd collected together over the years. Most were photographs of her taken throughout her life. But, there are also a few other photographs that she inherited from her parents.

A few days ago, I took the opportunity to look through the box again and came across three photos of a young woman. On the back of each, was written, Will, with Flo's love, October 1909. Will was Eric's Grandfather, Flo his sister who died during the 1918 flu pandemic.

It's strange the different things that people notice when looking at the same object. I commented on the hand writing, so similar to both of Eric's Aunts and yet subtly different and unique. Eric was able to read the rather faded printing at the bottom and wondered why the photos would have been taken by a L Chettle of Queens Road, Nuneaton some distance from Castle Bromwich where she lived.

I don't know about you, but, Eric and I always end up speculating about what actually happened and why. We pondered why she should have had a change of clothes for one photo and why the photos were taken in the first place. Eric's comment was, "Were they trying to marry her off?" It's something that we will never know and one of the reasons why I scrapbook, recording such details so that my descendants will know the story behind the photos.

Has the milk round in Castle Bromwich been replaced by the supermarket run? Undoubtedly, doorstep deliveries are falling, but are milkmen becoming an endangered species? More importantly, does it matter if they are?

I have to confess that my family does not have a doorstep delivery of milk. I know that milk delivery companies now supply a wide range of goods such as eggs, bread and vegetables, but ordering a structured amount of milk on set days does not suit our haphazard life style or eating habits. Nor, does having to have someone at home at a set time to pay for our deliveries. We do use internet shopping and home deliveries by the major supermarkets, but the service offered by the milk round just does not suit our needs.

I do however, sometimes feel a little guilty that we don't support this service. Eric's Grandfather was the village milkman, or "Master Milkman" as Eric's Aunt often reminds me. He owned and ran his own business Castle Bromwich dairies. Originally, operating from Cole Ford Farm at Buckland End and later stabling his horse during the winter in the stable at his then home (The Lindens, New Street, now 10 New Street,) and letting it roam free on a farm in Shard End, (where the shops now are opposite the Harlequin Surgery), in summer. He would rise early each morning to prepare the cart, horse and milk and spend the day delivering regardless of the weather or how he felt. So, from an emotional viewpoint I feel that I'm not supporting a traditional family occupation. But, perhaps more importantly, I realise that the door to door milk service offers a lifeline to the elderly and that the milkman is an important figure in their lives.

A decade ago 2.5 billion litres were delivered annually in the UK by a door to door service. By 2004 this had dropped to 63.7 million litres. Less than 13% of milk consumed in the UK is now delivered in this manner. Should we be concerned about this or is it just a sign of changing times and a need to dispose of what's no longer appropriate?


Any occupation has to move with the times. Anything that doesn't change, eventually withers and dies. Milk delivery companies are definitely trying to reinvent themselves. Some are even experimenting with delivering books and non-food related items. The milkman has seen many changes in his job over the years. Before milk bottles, milkmen filled customers' jugs. When milk bottles were first introduced they were sealed with a porcelain stopper on a wire and later the horse and cart was replaced by the electric float. But, whatever changes happened in the past, the milkman was always an important part of family daily life. If you look at any of the old 1960s and 1970s sit-coms the milkman always played his role and was regularly shown with the characters in their homes. For the first time, the younger generations are often unaware of the milkman, seeing their parents bringing home milk from the supermarket and rarely hearing the clatter of milk bottles being delivered or seeing the milk float delivering door to door.

None of us knows what the future holds, but, whatever happens, I will always retain fond memories of milk deliveries. They were part of my childhood. I will always remember the milk float deliveries, the bottles lined up on the doorstep, often with a hole through the silver top where the birds had pecked. I will always remember being given the responsibility of paying the milkman on a Saturday morning and I will always have the photos of Eric's ancestors to show how important milk deliveries and the milkmen.

My husband's family are immensely proud of their Castle Bromwich heritage, but a glimpse into the family history reveals that their origins were from Northamptonshire and prior to that probably Oxfordshire. So, just how did they come to be Castle Bromwich residents?

William Knibb was born on the 1^st April 1847 in Charlwelton, Northamptonshire. He was the eldest son, the second of eight children of William and Isabella (nee Fawlks). His father worked as a Shepherd and most of his other relatives also worked the land as Agricultural Labourers or Wagoners.

The 1861 census shows that William also began his working life on the land, but by 1871 he was living in rooms above the Coach House at Kelmarsh Hall where he was working as a Servant, Stableman and Domestic along side his Uncle Samuel.

On the 29^th October 1873, William married Mary Goodband in the Parish Church, Charlwelton. The marriage certificate shows his occupation as a Groom living in Charlwelton. By the time of the 1881 census, William and Mary had moved to 46 Aberdeen Street, Birmingham where William was working as a Gardner and Beer Retailer. Mary is recorded as working as an Assistant Inn Keeper. Unfortunately, Mary contracted Tuberculosis and on the 31^st December 1883 she died at home.

The 1881 census shows James and Elizabeth Large living at 47 Aberdeen Street, close to where William and Mary Knibb were living at number 46. This was Elizabeth’s second marriage, her first husband, Thomas Dale, having died in 1864. Her daughter, Elizabeth Dale, became friendly with William and on the 26^th April 1885 the couple married at the Congregational Chapel, Birmingham. William’s sister Isabella, and Elizabeth’s Step-father, James Large were the witnesses. The wedding certificate shows that at this stage, William was still working as a Beer Retailer living at 46 Aberdeen Street; whilst, Elizabeth was recorded as living at 92 Heath Street, Birmingham.

However, somewhere between this date and the 1891 census, Elizabeth and William had moved to Cole Ford Farm, Buckland End, Castle Bromwich, where William is recorded as a Farmer and the household has the services of a General Servant, Florence Pike. The 1901 census shows the family still living on the farm with William being listed as a Small Milk Farmer. The household is also shown with two boarders, Thomas Birch aged 24, a Commercial Traveller, and George A Hart, aged 30, a Civil Engineer. By this time, William and Elizabeth have five children, a son and four daughters.

Not much is currently known about what transpired between this date and William’s death of Bronchitis at the age of 70, on the 28^th March 1918 at home on Cole Ford Farm. His wife Elizabeth, and daughter Florence, were to die later that year during the great Spanish Flu pandemic. All three are buried in the family grave in Castle Bromwich Churchyard.

Much to the disgust of Ashleigh and Carl, Eric and I hold onto little pieces of art that they produced as children. The man on the horse is an early painting of Carl's. We didn't know of its existence until Eric's mum died and Janet found it in her flat and returned it to us. It had to be a painting that Carl did when he was very little because he hadn't seen or had contact with his Nan since the age of about 12. We've also got his first oil painting which is of a ship at sea. There are lots of things that aren't quite right about it and Carl has done his best to dispose of it, but Eric loves in and won't part with it for anything.

This is a painting that Ashleigh did when he was four. The scan really doesn't do it justice. We've got it framed in the bedroom. It's got this wonderful feeling of an impressionist painting. I've also got a painting of Thomas the Tank Engine that he painted for me one weekend when Carl looked after him whilst Eric and I had a night away on our own. I know I'm soft, but these paintings mean more to me than any expensive gifts he could ever buy me.

I remember one birthday and mother's day that came together when Ashleigh was small, he made Eric drive up to Water Orton sewerage works and together they picked daffodils from the road side verge for me, all Ashleigh's idea and despite his co-conspirator's reluctance to steal daffodils from a road-side verge he was determined that I was going to have those daffodils. It's definitely these small gestures that mean the most to me. They show me just how much they care.

When I first started researching our family history, I started in the usual manner, asking relatives for any information that they had and recording it as a starting point. The information given to me by my Grandparents years before I started researching proved to be totally correct and although perhaps somewhat limited in scope. However, the information given by Eric's Aunt on his family was somewhat romanticised. She told me that the Knibb family were old landowners coming from Leicestershire to Birmingham. The truth was somewhat different. The Knibb family originated from Charwelton in Northamptonshire where they were Shepherds or occasionally Carters. Auntie Vera is insistent that I've got it wrong, but the records are quite clear and I have the documentation to prove the line. Auntie Vera's Grandfather made the move from Northampton to Birmingham. The reasons behind this are quite unclear and something I'd love a time bubble to find out.

Prior to coming to Birmingham, William was working as a Groom at Kelmarsh Hall along with his Uncle. They appear to have left at the same time and travelled in different directions away from Northampton to set up new lives. Unusually for the time, William seemed to have come into some money and set himself up into business on arriving in Birmingham. Eric and I both wonder where this money came from and why both he and his Uncle made the move away. Were they paid to keep quiet about something? Was it ill gotten gains or were they just very careful and saved the money? I suppose I'll never know, but it's nice to speculate.

It's at this point that something else happened that Auntie Vera insists I've got wrong, but the evidence and documentation is quite clear. William was married to a Mary Goodband when he moved to Birmingham. Unfortunately, Mary died of TB in 1883. William remarried. His new wife, Elizabeth Dale was Auntie Vera's grandmother. Auntie Vera is insistent that she is the only wife that William ever had and she would have known if it had been otherwise. Unfortunately, as I've discovered, so many things were just never talked about and this appears to be one of them. Auntie Vera seems to feel that this remarriage was something to be ashamed of, but in a day and age when young deaths were so common, multiple marriages were really common.

The one piece of advice I'd give to any new genealogist is to check every piece of information you're given and don't assume anything is correct, no matter how reliable the source might appear to be. I've wasted many an hour by assuming that something I've been told is correct, when doing my own research from scratch would not have lead me off on a fool's errand.