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Special thanks must go to Wendy Bevan, my employer but also my friend, for her all her support. And a great big thank you to all my friends and family, especially my husband Brian for putting up with me during my genealogical journey.

On Tuesday, 27 May 2003, we received the sad news that the lovely Ann Gosling had passed away unexpectedly. Her husband Ron had died in 2001. We remain in contact with their two children Keith and Jane. (See Chapter 5, March 2001.)

My eyes open to a swath of light blazing across the darkness of my bedroom as the sound of a car roars off into the night, and my heart thuds cruelly; it is not William. Why is he ignoring me? I cannot go on alone, I need his help, yet he refuses again and again to listen. I cannot believe he would do this especially after all I have done for him, introducing him into the family, making him part of our lives. Yet this is how he repays me by ignoring me. Well I hope he is pleased with himself. Sleepless nights, headaches and tears are what I am reduced to and why? Because William Podevin born circa 1800 refuses to step out of his spirit world into mine and tell me ‘Where the hell he was born!’

If only it were that simple…

When I look back over my four, very basic, years of tracing both mine and my husband’s family history, I cannot express the frustrations experienced in attempting to track down that elusive ancestor nor the joy felt discovering an ancestor that was long forgotten, or never known about. Never could I have imagined the seesaw of emotion I would undergo finding the birth of an ancestor one week to discover the next that he or she had died tragically young, or revealing surprising second marriages or marriages that never happened, or uncovering French connections that were always thought of as fantasy. And I will always remember the uncanny sensation of finding out that when I moved from one end of the country to the other I had unknowingly been walking in the footsteps of my ancestors for years.

Family research is exhilarating, especially when a puzzle comes together. It is like being a detective but without the help of witnesses. There are still many family skeletons and intrigues that drive me mad and that may never be resolved but I cannot give up trying. I am hooked and yet I have only just begun.

As a complete beginner – and in the world of family history I still am – I searched for a book to help me with my research, a book that I could relate to on a basic level, but they all seemed so advanced with so much information that I could not take it all in, although I now admit I find them invaluable. I was a lonely researcher and needed a friend to consult with, someone who was sharing the same experiences and aggravations that I was.

All of a sudden other potential family historians, in the same dilemma that I was in four years ago, started asking me questions. How did I start? Where did I find all my information? How did I find the time to carry out all the research? What did I do when I got ‘genealogist’s block’? How did I store everything? Did I want to give up at times? What mistakes did I make?

Now, when I hear ‘there is no point researching my family, they are so boring,’ I am horrified. How do they know? I was guilty of the same misconception about my own family initially; how wrong I was. That is when I decided to write about my experiences and findings, as basic as they are, because I owe it to my ancestors. They struggled through difficult times to survive and if they had not would I be here to write about it today?

I suppose, if I was honest, I would class myself as a naturally impatient individual that attacks projects with lots of energy and tenacity but with very little thought. If there is any truth in the saying ‘we learn by our mistakes’ then you might be forgiven for thinking that I have learned a lot after four years of research. To some extent I have, but do I continue to make the same mistakes? Yes, infuriatingly. Why? Because there is so much to think about and so little time when making that special day trip to the ‘Family Manic Centre’ in London, more commonly known as the ‘Family Record Centre’, or similar organisations.

Although I carried out the majority of my physical research alone I have needed help on certain issues and found there are people out there willing to assist – all you have to do is ask. I have been and still am continually grateful for the kindness of strangers via forums on the Internet or from institutions, history centres and people just wanting to help.

As with many family historians my search began with the death of a close relative, my father-in-law Albert William Marelli in 1998, so that is where I will start.