First stop Weston Super Mare. I knew that that was where I could get a copy of my dad's death certificate. The journey took longer than we thought so we didn't get there until 11.45. We were lucky because the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages didn't shut for lunch until 12.30, so we were able to order a copy. The downside was it wouldn't be ready until 15.00. Bum, I hoped that we could merely look at the entry and get the information that we wanted. No such luck. It had to be hand written and they would do us a favour by finishing it by the promised time. That didn't leave us a lot of time if we had a lot of research to do.
Anyway, at 15.00 we got the first bit of unexpected news. Whilst his death was registered up the road in Cleveden, as that was the place of death, he died in a nursing home some way from his actual address. His regular address was actually in Bristol and if we wanted to check the electoral register, to see who was still living there, we would have to go to Bristol a good 45 minutes away. Whilst I was establishing the details of where to go and who to see in Bristol, Jan tried that well known private eye trick of looking in the phone directory. Bingo, his wife was still listed with the same address as given on the death certificate. That was a significant piece of good luck.
Our behaviour from that point on had not been planned because we had anticipated a lot more trouble in identifying any next of kin. Now everything was falling into place. The next question was how to proceed. I was fascinated to know where he lived so we decided to drive back via the address in Bristol. Not an easy drive but doable nonetheless. When we eventually found the house, the temptation to go and knock on the door and say hello was very strong but we had to think of the occupant and how she might feel. Given that she was very likely to be elderly, may not know of my father's past life and may not know about me, we decided on a plan of action. On returning to France, I would write a gentle letter introducing myself and requesting a meeting next time I was in England.
I'm one step closer to knowing a lot more about my father and whether I have any half brothers or sisters. It's all quite spooky.
Anyway, at 15.00 we got the first bit of unexpected news. Whilst his death was registered up the road in Cleveden, as that was the place of death, he died in a nursing home some way from his actual address. His regular address was actually in Bristol and if we wanted to check the electoral register, to see who was still living there, we would have to go to Bristol a good 45 minutes away. Whilst I was establishing the details of where to go and who to see in Bristol, Jan tried that well known private eye trick of looking in the phone directory. Bingo, his wife was still listed with the same address as given on the death certificate. That was a significant piece of good luck.
Our behaviour from that point on had not been planned because we had anticipated a lot more trouble in identifying any next of kin. Now everything was falling into place. The next question was how to proceed. I was fascinated to know where he lived so we decided to drive back via the address in Bristol. Not an easy drive but doable nonetheless. When we eventually found the house, the temptation to go and knock on the door and say hello was very strong but we had to think of the occupant and how she might feel. Given that she was very likely to be elderly, may not know of my father's past life and may not know about me, we decided on a plan of action. On returning to France, I would write a gentle letter introducing myself and requesting a meeting next time I was in England.
I'm one step closer to knowing a lot more about my father and whether I have any half brothers or sisters. It's all quite spooky.
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