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Here and Hereafter; a fledgling angel on the brink of beyond.

‘Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be,

The sweet love story that is older than the sea,

The simple truth about the love he brings to me,

Where do I start?’

It strikes me that there are many popular songs that are at least as worshipful, if not more so, than some of the hymns that are frequently sung in Church and this is one of my favourites.

Indeed where do I begin with a book of this sort? When young it is comparatively easy to pick out the individual threads of one’s existence and scrutinise them separately but at 60 years of age the progress of the weaving of the tapestry of one’s own life has advanced enough to have assumed in retrospect a coherence from which any trace of ‘Now and Then’ cannot be teased out. This also is what we are taught about eternity:

that the word eternal meanstimeless,

all things at onceand a state of being where past, present and future

have blended into an unsequenced permanence that will have to be experienced to be grasped.

It is at the moment more than words can say.Therefore that is the way that I am constructing this book. I am building it around my genealogy table; the most recent addition to my repertoire but which contains details of events that long preceded my birth.

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‘With his first Hello, he brought new meaning to this empty world

of mine’

The song continues and usually as long as a female is performing it, one can think of it as being like a hymn of praise by our Lady to God but pop songs, unlike hymns, often pose variable gender problems that make them too divisive for some situations. This song, to resemble a hymn, needs to be addressed to a male person.

So, what is this lesson that I have learned during my lifespan? It is that the meaning and purpose of one’s existence is: to be known and loved. Some people want to know you just so that they can find out if you can be pulled to pieces all the time but I seek the love of God

The Almighty,The Creator,

The Sustainer.This is the same lesson which countless millions of others who walked this Earth before me have also learned. This I feel is the sweetest and oldest love story there can be.

‘I reach for his hand,Its always there.

The song ends. Certainly on the brink of beyond one needs something ever more secure day by day to take hold of. One can never know if the next step or the next or the next will be the one to propel oneself into that blankness and open it to one’s consciousness once and for all.

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This book is for Dad, who performed a lot of music at home.

Chapter OneGouldsborough and Gouldsbrough

This is not about a firm of solicitors but in the top left corner of my genealogy table on the facing page is the extent of the longest trace of any of my bloodlines that I have found so far.

In our family heirloom we have an 1846 edition of the New Testament of the Bible which contains a list of names and dates written inside the front cover for the Gouldsborough family comprising of Harriett, Robert and their five children. In the archives of the Sheffield Church of St. Peter and St. Paul (i.e. the Anglican Cathedral) the wedding between Harriett and Robert is recorded with the same date; 30 december 1832 as is written in our old copy of the New Testament. It was solemnised by John Gibson, a parish minister. Also in the Sheffield Cathedral archives is a baptism record for Robert, his two older sisters and a younger brother together with their parents’ names.

There is later an official record of some of this Gouldsborough family in the 1851 census. Harriett (spelt Harriott Goldsbrough on this census form) and two of her sons; George and Alfred were found at 53 Backfields, central Sheffield. Her son William was at the address of William Stringer, 112 Nethergreen which in those days could be said to have been on the western fringe of Sheffield. Generations of the Stringer Spanish and Pocket Knife Manufacturers of Nethergreen can be found in Sheffield Directories from at least 1825 to 1852.

These are the only records that I have found so far of them but by contrast the Gouldsbrough family, of whom we have extensive memorabilia, appear in many years of census records and in numerous Sheffield Directories. I do not know at the moment how these two sets of similarly spelt names are related to each other but am supposing that my direct bloodline passes from my dad via his mum and her mother’s father right up to William and Mary Gouldsbrough in the top left corner of the family tree.

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Gouldsbrough and Jenkinson family members about 1892.There follow some pictorial pages.

Chapter Two

‘Once upon a time there was a

tavern’These are the first words of a song called ‘Those were the days ‘, which was performed in english and began to be popularised by Mary Hopkin in

October 1968. Mado’s father liked this song.

A memory from my youthstirred by recent archive studies

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and a visit to Chatsworth.My business name of ANDROMEDA is after my daughter from my first marriage. It comes from Andrew and Mado (who pronounced her own name like the English word meadow). There is no official record of our wedding. My daughter never drew breath in this world.

John and Sarah Smith at the top right corner of my genealogy table are not on any of my direct bloodlines but their grand-daughter, Sarah Jane Little married into our family and we were well

acquainted with her son, Harry Gouldsbrough. Harry died in 1982 and his wife Annie died in 1991.

Between 1852 and 1876 the Black Lion pub on Snig Hill, central Sheffield, occupied three addresses and had three proprietors. In 1852 it was at 33 Snig Hill and was looked after by J. McKenzie. From at least 1856 to 1871 it was at 31 Snig Hill and was looked after firstly by John Smith and later by his widow, Sarah. By 1876 it had relocated to 43-45 Snig Hill with Mrs. Mary-Ann Parker as proprietor.

George Little came from Newton Heath, Manchester to be a Sheffield grinder.

‘To be a Sheffield grinder it is no easy trade,

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There’s more than you’d imagine to the grinding of a

blade,The strongest man among us is

old at 32,There’s few who’ll brave such hardships as we poor grinders

do’.Pardon me but I couldn’t resist bursting forth into song there! (From the Stirrings, musical theatres play). After marrying John and Sarah Smiths’ daughter, Mary, this Little family lodged for a while in the Black Lion before moving out to 256 Fitzwilliam Street, Sheffield, where five of them died between 1884 and 1890. Afterwards two of the remaining children were taken into the home of their eldest sibling, Mrs. Sarah Jane Gouldsbrough in the Washington Road and Langdon Street area of Sheffield. Eventually of all these Little siblings only the eldest (Sarah Jane) and the youngest (Arthur) continued into old age.

How do I know all this? Because by an utterly bewildering quirk of fate our family has been bequeathed with birth, death and wedding certificates of the Littles’ and of Sarah Jane and Henry Gouldsbrough. These documents have enabled me to access external sources such as census forms and directories to fill out the picture better.

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Black Lion 2 sculpture of rubber by JI YONG-HO in Sotheby’s Beyond Limits outdoor exhibition, Chatsworth House garden sept/oct 2011.

Little family grave that I visit and put flowers on. Seven souls are buried there.

Chapter Three

Cumbrian Roots My mother’s ancestors’ livelihoods were in domestic service or in labouring on farms, in slate quarries or for corporations of Westmorland, as it was called then.

World War II brought my dad into first contact with his future bride whilst on Bren Gun Carrier driver training in the Lake District, as it is called now. He arrived at his billet on 5 th September 1944 in Bowness on Windermere. Five days later on Sunday Afternoon, 10th September, he met Margaret and they stayed together until her death in 1999.

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.

A painting by my great-grandfather Henry Sykes.

Of all the places that my father visited during his tour of active military service around the Mediterranean Sea, the one that I would most like to see for myself is Villa Opicina, Trieste, Italy. You can view it at www.triesteturismo.web

My mother’s parents came to Sheffield later to live with us due to illness and are buried in Sheffield.

Chapter four

Namesake lineStaniforth is the one surname above all others, I think, which signals Sheffield. My knowledge of these ancestors is comparatively sparse. My grandad Walter never spoke much of his childhood. Except for his half-brother, Fred, we never heard any mentioned by name and we do not know which of his full-brothers was Rhoda’s dad. The census forms so far scrutinised do not seem to reveal Walter’s total complement of brothers that my dad spoke of. We have photographs of my great-grandad, Fred Staniforth and we have a woollen tapestry with military emblems that he made during the year of Queen Victoria’s death. If we asked Walter about his own folks he would say that

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http://www.triesteturismo.web/


he knew where they were buried and we didn’t press him further about it. The names of Samuel, James, Mary-Ann and Eliza (Fred’s second wife, born 1858 approx.), I found from census records and yes, I could add onto the tree many others of those families that I have seen on the census forms but I would find it too intrusive, aimless and presumptuous to do so. That is what the family tree means to me. We knew Walter. Walter knew them. That’s enough said within the home.

Above is a photo of a World War I hospital. I don’t know if any of our family members are shown there but it is in our heirloom so I guess it must have a personal significance. Walter was seriously injured soon after the start of the war and had to remonstrate with army doctors not to amputate his leg. He carried a deep hollow in his knee for the rest of his life, caused by shrapnel.

Chapter Five

‘Fill up each hour with what will last,

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Use well the moments as they go,

The life above when this is past,

Is the ripe fruit of life below’.

Above is a verse of my old Grammar School Hymn. The hymn needs a new patron because the school premises, which were almost brand new when I first entered there as a pupil were recently demolished, only about fifty years after having been built. It didn’t last, so now let’s look for

‘what really will last’.Where do I begin?’ What about ‘The life above when this is past’; what can be found

there?

Our Lady is an expert at flitting to and fro between the next world and this world. She has appeared to many people of various denominations and if she speaks at all during those showings it is always in their own language. Yet during her mortal existence she was an uneducated peasant doing lots of ordinary things like handing out birthday cards and going to Bar Mitzvahs and weddings. I took part publicly but ignorantly in the 2000th anniversary celebrations of her conception, birth and weaning/teething between 1973 and 1975. I gave away at that time to an acquaintance called Heather a tapestry of coarse cloth embroidered by me with lilies which I had worn as a TOGA during those celebrations. Heather gave me a greetings card of her own making and its image is included amongst the following pages of pictures in this book. Some years later a friend called Marilyn helped me to join the Roman Catholic Church. An image of a greetings card which she sent to me from an irish holiday is also included amongst the following pages. At that time it still hadn’t dawned upon

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me that our Lady had been gratefully watching my clumsy efforts of 1973 to 1975 and waiting for my memories of it to bear fruit constructively.

By 1989 my faith studies had enabled me to knowingly celebrate publicly and privately the 2000th anniversary of the beginning of the Gospel story with Gabriel’s appearing to Zechariah. The following year, two tapestries of silk that I had embroidered with flowers between 1973 and 1975 to no particular outcome were gainfully employed by me as a canopy for the 20th centenary of our Lady’s wedding on 2nd june 1990. Now in 2012 it is 2021 years since Jesus’ birth and that again is for me knowingly a cause for celebration; giving him the key of the door.

This then must be ‘the ripe fruit of life below’: that each in their own way is offered a clean sheet and a fresh start in a new

world inhabited also by all the other babies who weren’t thrown out with the bath-water. For me to

‘fill up each hour with what will last’ has come to mean that I should help to look after these Gospel dates, whose

recollection has persisted already as fresh as yesterday for two millennia and more.

To reiterate briefly, our Lady was immaculately conceived on 5th November 27BC, she was born on 5th august 26BC, weaned/teethed on 3rd august 25BC and she died on 21st February 49AD. It wasn’t until 1989 that I had any precise knowledge of these dates but work which our Lady had seen me doing between 1973 and 1975 for other reasons of my own has been retrospectively recommended by her to my credit, as nobody else on Earth seems to be bothered about her social calendar at the moment.

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Above are photos of me, aged sixteen and of my youngest great-niece (born 2011) and me.

This book is necessarily short on text because I am making it on the Peoples’ Network computers in a public library. Only one hour per day (i.e. up to six hours per week) is allowed for each user and I have other tasks to perform with the computers. I haven’t one of my own. It is therefore an ideal set up for a topic which is more than words can say. Completed October 2012.

Writer & publisher: S. Andrew Staniforth, 124 Neill Road, Sheffield England/UK S11 8QJ

Contents List for Full Pages of PhotographsChapter OneGouldsbrough family grave// My Grandma Florence with her sister and brother// Victorian harbour. The seaside; Florence with her family and Aunt Jennie Jenkinson, Uncle William and Cousin Arthur// 53 Backfields at ‘No Entry’ road sign// Cathedral forecourt// Grinders workshop near Nethergreen.

Chapter TwoHenry, Sarah-Jane and Ernest Gouldsbrough. Harry Gouldsbrough, St. Margaret’s, Bradford photo (front row, with ‘scholars’ across his chest). Postcards from South America.

Chapter Three

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My mother’s brother’s wedding. My mother’s cousin and me. My mother and friend, Trafalgar Square, London. Two captioned bonus pages. .

Chapter fourTapestries by Fred, Walter and Eric Staniforth. By the seaside; Florence and Walter, with daughter & other grandson. My dad’s sister’s husband with son and grandparents. Two more bonus pages.

Chapter FiveMe in Edale; a 60th birthday gift photograph by HELEN BAILEY © of CANADA. My old Grammar School site newly demolished may 2012. Millennium Celebrations Decorations Pinholes in my front door. My Parish Church, exterior and interior. Greetings card made by Heather and swapped for a TOGA. Marilyn’s cemetery and greetings card (she died five months later).

My trade mark and my parents’ grave.

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Documents

Weebly · Web view2020. 2. 5. · celebrate publicly and privately the 2000th anniversary of the beginning of the Gospel story with Gabriel’s appearing to Zechariah. The following