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I’m currently in the process of sorting through some of my family’s photos from generations ago. I love old photographs. (Love is a very mild word, but don’t want to look too obsessive – might scare people away.)

Anyway – I figured after writing this blog for a month or so, i’ve not actually revealed a great deal about myself. Thought i’d share a tad – probably should start with my name…

I’m Vicky (or Victoria to my elders, posh people or teachers), i’m 24 and as you’ve probably guessed, I live in London: Islington to be exact-ish. I’m originally from Preston in Lancashire and as you would be able to tell from listening to me talk for longer than two seconds – I definitely sound like it. During the day I work in Press and Publications, but my greatest hobby (aboveĀ adrenaline-fuelled sports, dancing and travelling) is the 1940s.

(That’s me…)

As far back as the 1700s, my ancestors have come from Preston. We were farmers, weavers and worked on the land and until a generation ago (sadly I don’t own a cow) that was what we had always done.

Now, I love looking back over these old photographs – finding out who my great, great, great grandparents were, what they did, how they dressed and who they looked like, but most of all I love hearing stories. Fortunately for me, both of my mother’s parents are still alive and grew up in rural Lancashire from birth until the present day. They have hundreds upon hundreds of tales (you know what old people are like) from the war-time era, and have been very unwilling (and rightly so in my opinion) to drag themselves into the 21st century.

Once upon a time, my Grandmother told me a tale about how a British soldier’s plane was bombed during patrol in 1943, he escaped and parachuted his way into their back field. My Grandfather loves telling me about the evacuees that arrived from Salford in Greater Manchester during the war – apparently they’d never seen or heard of cows before! My other Granddad, who died sadly many years ago passed his war medals down to my dad and upon his death, they were left to me.

It is these pictures, stories and memoirs that I love and am thankful that the people who lived during this era are (mostly) still alive to fill in the gaps. Recently, I visited my ancestors graves, and was overcome with a sense of needing to know more…soooo – very soon (once i’ve been paid and bought a scanner) I am going to share some of these photos with you – if you don’t mind. Don’t worry – i’ll pick out the best ones…no dogs, blank walls or grass. Promise.

Until next time, folks…