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Patrick Joyce. Convict.

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Three boys loitered around the door of a grocery shop on Flat Street, Sheffield, on the morning of 18 February 1835. While cheese factor, Mr Matthew Furniss, had his back to the door, one of the boys furtively entered the shop and lifted a twenty-pound wheel of cheese off the top of a cask. His accomplice stood in the doorway, holding a sack open, and the boy threw the cheese into it. The boys ran off, chased by witnesses. The boy’s accomplice dropped the sack in the street as he bolted towards Spring Wood. They didn’t get far before they were caught and turned over to the authorities. [1] Patrick Joyce was nicked. Conviction  Patrick Joyce and his erstwhile getaway man, Isaac Saynor, were brought before a magistrate at the Yorkshire Quarter Sessions, held at Sheffield on the 26 March 1835. Charged with larceny, the justice made out the elements of the offence thus: “That Patrick Joyce late of Wakefield in the West Riding of the County of York Labourer and Isaac Saynor l...
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Private Life, Public Record

When I finally found my grandmother’s birth record, the address at which she was born was stated as 129 St Johns Road, Islington, in the County of London. This public record was at odds with her Australian marriage record, which said she was from Isle of Ely, Cambridgeshire. A search on the Islington address surprisingly showed that it was a workhouse. Birth certificates were routinely filled out with a non-descript address, so as not to draw attention to the status of the mother. A relic of Victorian times, the workhouse was not only the destination for the destitute; it was the destination for unmarried mothers. Before 6 September 1913, my grandmother’s birthdate, there was no record of a marriage for Louisa Gutteridge. However, there were other birth certificates. Louisa had two older children, both boys. The younger boy, Arthur, had also been born in a workhouse. So, when Louisa found herself once again in the family way, she knew what to expect. And she knew what was exp...
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Sharra-bang! London - January 1928

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Louisa dashed away angry tears lest they smudge her makeup. Escaping the Royal Albert Hall, she couldn’t move fast enough. Lizzy, tottering on gaudy high heels, was struggling to keep up with her. “Louisa! Slow down” she hissed. Louisa stopped, her anger moving down to her toes, which tapped a staccato rhythm on the cobbles as she waited for Lizzy. “Did you hear her?” she exploded. “Don’t you dare, she said, don’t you dare . Ugly woman in her ugly guides uniform. How dare she not let me share some sweets with my daughter.” “You know, I’ve been giving those people money since Nellie was a baby, and she’s babies of her own now. Always had a coin box in the house. I won’t give ‘em a farthing more, Louisa. See if I won’t.” Louisa shivered as she smoothed her hair and adjusted her clothes. She must calm down, she told herself, and try to work out how she could get Maisie back. --- The day had started well enough. It was just over an hour by train from Burnt Oak to K...
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