This week, let’s get a little
introspective: who do you see in your face? In your personality?
Great Grandma eventually had 16 children
Where shall we start? I had a look on
Internet to see the best looking women in the world and discovered that no, we
do not have anything like that in the family. At least my wonderful unique mega
nose cannot be found on those faces.
Where did my nose originate. I can only blame it on the Huguenot strain in the family. Yes, we have one, I researched it but found no original photos of the French refugees that spread from the area around Montpelier all over Europe, one of whom arrived in London and married a fellow refugee. I do not know what he did, but he seemed to have enough time on his hands to establish a widely spread family. It seems that every person in England with the surname of Camroux is related to me. I had a look at a few of these Camroux types, expecting a suave French good looker with all the charm of Alain Delon and the good looks of perhaps Catherine Deneuve or Brigitte Bardot, but no deal. It seems the French DNA did not spread its genes into my direction.
It was great grandmother’s fault. She died in 1911 aged 91 and she was the last of the Camroux in our family. OK, the going is good. She lived to a ripe old age and was more than a golden oldie, platinum, a diamond. Unfortunately there are no photos and she must have chosen the wrong man: some bloke from Norfolk. Now all English people know that Norfolk is a very flat place, so the French charm was flattened forever. I suspect they all had big noses in that part of Norfolk. Grandma Camroux son was my grandfather and he had the biggest nose of all. He also had a thick head of silver hair until the last. Unfortunately I did not inherit that either. Ok, the silver hair will arrive, but I have to keep it short to keep it thick.
Something went wrong somewhere. Let us have a look at dad’s side of the family. Dad was colour blind. Luckily women are not often colour blind, they just carry the gene further. I am sure my youngest son is grateful for being something special in that respect. His first eye test proved it. A little problem with the reds and greens and I think the blues were involved also. He is really something unique.
My dad also had a problem with hearing which was no big surprise being in the heavy artillery during the war and firing large guns within the operating distance of his ears. This was followed by years working in a factory. I know this is not connected with genes, but I do tend to raise my voice when speaking, a sure sign of bad hearing. Or perhaps it was growing up in a family where it was usual to talk in loud voices.
My eyes are something special, I think. No French influence, no English influence, just the influence of nature with a little help from mum. She had blue eyes and so do I, complete with brown hair – a rarity. OK, it is now grey but it used to be brown. My youngest has inherited my blue eyes, but they are not as blue as mine.
I often wonder who I can blame for having no ear lobes, this being a clear sign of a criminal nature. Perhaps Jack the Ripper was ……. No. They never found him, although his murky deeds did take place in the area where I grew up.
My maiden name is Relf, that was always a source of mystery. What strange elements could this infiltrate in the cells, where does this name originate? There was a famous John Rolfe that married some native Indian princess known as Pocahontas. As Pocahontas actually died in an area in London, near to my origins, it could have been. The name Relf appears with all sorts of spellings, according to which illiterate person registered it in the census of years gone by. My favourite version is the name arriving after the Norman invasion in 1066 from the French (again). Sounds so romantic, so read all about it here
Where did my nose originate. I can only blame it on the Huguenot strain in the family. Yes, we have one, I researched it but found no original photos of the French refugees that spread from the area around Montpelier all over Europe, one of whom arrived in London and married a fellow refugee. I do not know what he did, but he seemed to have enough time on his hands to establish a widely spread family. It seems that every person in England with the surname of Camroux is related to me. I had a look at a few of these Camroux types, expecting a suave French good looker with all the charm of Alain Delon and the good looks of perhaps Catherine Deneuve or Brigitte Bardot, but no deal. It seems the French DNA did not spread its genes into my direction.
It was great grandmother’s fault. She died in 1911 aged 91 and she was the last of the Camroux in our family. OK, the going is good. She lived to a ripe old age and was more than a golden oldie, platinum, a diamond. Unfortunately there are no photos and she must have chosen the wrong man: some bloke from Norfolk. Now all English people know that Norfolk is a very flat place, so the French charm was flattened forever. I suspect they all had big noses in that part of Norfolk. Grandma Camroux son was my grandfather and he had the biggest nose of all. He also had a thick head of silver hair until the last. Unfortunately I did not inherit that either. Ok, the silver hair will arrive, but I have to keep it short to keep it thick.
Something went wrong somewhere. Let us have a look at dad’s side of the family. Dad was colour blind. Luckily women are not often colour blind, they just carry the gene further. I am sure my youngest son is grateful for being something special in that respect. His first eye test proved it. A little problem with the reds and greens and I think the blues were involved also. He is really something unique.
My dad also had a problem with hearing which was no big surprise being in the heavy artillery during the war and firing large guns within the operating distance of his ears. This was followed by years working in a factory. I know this is not connected with genes, but I do tend to raise my voice when speaking, a sure sign of bad hearing. Or perhaps it was growing up in a family where it was usual to talk in loud voices.
My eyes are something special, I think. No French influence, no English influence, just the influence of nature with a little help from mum. She had blue eyes and so do I, complete with brown hair – a rarity. OK, it is now grey but it used to be brown. My youngest has inherited my blue eyes, but they are not as blue as mine.
I often wonder who I can blame for having no ear lobes, this being a clear sign of a criminal nature. Perhaps Jack the Ripper was ……. No. They never found him, although his murky deeds did take place in the area where I grew up.
My maiden name is Relf, that was always a source of mystery. What strange elements could this infiltrate in the cells, where does this name originate? There was a famous John Rolfe that married some native Indian princess known as Pocahontas. As Pocahontas actually died in an area in London, near to my origins, it could have been. The name Relf appears with all sorts of spellings, according to which illiterate person registered it in the census of years gone by. My favourite version is the name arriving after the Norman invasion in 1066 from the French (again). Sounds so romantic, so read all about it here
Of course, I was the tallest in the school,
but up to now have found no Zulu blood in the family.
After this analysis of my genes, DNA possibilities and strange objects turning up in the relations I have come to the conclusion that I was either found in a street near Buckingham Palace, where the Queen of England lives, or sleeping in a golden casket deposited at my front door with a crown tied to the handles. Mum only told me about deciding I would be the last of the Relfs in our line, due to problems with my arrival. Ok I would not have minded a brother, but an older brother so that I could have met his friends when I became a teenager. I met Mr. Swiss instead and this was also good. Now he is a mixture of Swiss mercenary, William Tell, Albert Einstein, Roger Federer, Jean Tinguley and H.R.Giger – you can take your pick. My dad always said we are all related with each other in any case.
I almost forgot, the personality. I am unique. There is no-one like me.
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After this analysis of my genes, DNA possibilities and strange objects turning up in the relations I have come to the conclusion that I was either found in a street near Buckingham Palace, where the Queen of England lives, or sleeping in a golden casket deposited at my front door with a crown tied to the handles. Mum only told me about deciding I would be the last of the Relfs in our line, due to problems with my arrival. Ok I would not have minded a brother, but an older brother so that I could have met his friends when I became a teenager. I met Mr. Swiss instead and this was also good. Now he is a mixture of Swiss mercenary, William Tell, Albert Einstein, Roger Federer, Jean Tinguley and H.R.Giger – you can take your pick. My dad always said we are all related with each other in any case.
I almost forgot, the personality. I am unique. There is no-one like me.
Looking at all the possible threads there, I think your dad was right!! Perhaps a genetic version of the 'Six Steps Of Separation' theory.
ReplyDeleteLOL I like your dad's way of thinking. When I was reading this story it was almost as though I was listening to you talk...not sure why!
ReplyDeleteMy oldest grandson has dark hair and blue eyes and it looks like the youngest is headed in that direction. They get their eye color from their father and hair color from their mother.