It's the school holidays again and while some families are heading off to visit relatives others are planning trips designed to keep their little darlings occupied in other ways. While driving I gaze at the loaded cars and wonder how their half terms will compare to mine.
During my childhood I was frequently treated to a half term like no other child; a trip to . This included so-called "educational research tasks" set by my mother that were worse than any homework a teacher could have created.
And yes, I hated it! Or at least I thought I hated it, but now I come to think of it perhaps I didn't after all. Perhaps I even enjoyed it since it also included the challenge of competing with my sister to find the right entry in the right book and the promise of tea and cake afterwards.
How did my mum know that I would end up doing this for a job? Are all mothers psychic? is that part of the job criteria for being a mother?
St Catherine's house was where all the birth, death and marriage indexes were housed. These huge heavy books were bound in red, black or green accordingly and covered all the civil registration entries for the whole of England and Wales from 1837 virtually up to the present day.
Not only were the rooms small and the books bigger than me, but the space in which you had to turn around and open them created a struggle. Each time you fought for a place on the reading stands, elbowing people as you went, only to find that when you turned around to replace the book - always methodically in its correct place, knowing from experience even at that young age what a disaster it would be for the next person if the index was misplaced - someone would jump into your spot. You would then wait patiently for them to turn around so you could jump back into the space.
My memory tells me that the adoption indexes were kept upstairs alongside the entries for overseas events and those births, deaths and marriages registered by military personnel.
A short walk away was Somerset House. I think that now it is the home of an ice skating rink in winter and concerts in summer, but it was then the home of thousands of wills, which seemed to miraculously appear while you waited.
That all seems such a long time ago. Since then the GRO BMD indexes have been moved twice, ending up at the via the purpose built and gloriously spacious (complete with modern requirements such as lockers, toilets and photocopiers) and very conveniently located near Exmouth market for sumptuous snacks to fortify family history researchers.
And now here I am at my kitchen table barely lifting more than my little fingers to access all those indexes which have been digitally scanned onto various databases and websites and beamed into my house via some elaborate technology way beyond my comprehension.
I hate to say it but I miss the old days and the old ways. And, even worse, I have to admit that those were the best ever half term holidays, so thank you Mum.