| I was numb. My worst fear had been realized. I had spent more than three months researching the wrong family. I filled several
notebooks with useless information and wasted 3 or 4 rolls of film taking photos of houses, churches, gravestones, etc. The reason for the discrepancies on my granddad's birth certificate was simple - it was not his birth certificate. All those years before, they had been sent the wrong one. I left Preston later that week. I had given up and was going to spend the rest of the trip enjoying myself. I had already travelled the length and breadth of England and visited Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales. I went back to London, then travelled through Belgium to Amsterdam - and spent a day suffering from food poisoning in Germany (another long story). After a couple of weeks to clear my head I decided to return to Edinburgh. Granddad always said he was from Scotland, and I wanted to have one last look for any record of him there. |
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For the rest of my stay I divided my time between London and Edinburgh. I found no record of my granddad or his family but I have to admit that I
was spending less and less time in dusty old archives and more and more time in the pub. Edinburgh has a lively pub scene and I took full advantage of it. London
can be hard to warm to but, nearly 16 years on, I still keep in touch with friends I met there. I flew home to Toronto 3 days before Christmas 1987. I was going home empty handed, knowing less than what I knew - or thought I knew - when I landed at Heathrow five months earlier. |
| Although I was extremely disappointed, I didn't feel like the trip had been a waste of time. I enjoyed the travel, made a few good friends, and promised myself that I would return someday to find the real Richard Swarbrick. | |