Many years back, before I began seriously investigating my ancestors, and then researching those of others, I can remember hearing a story about where we (the Holdens) came from. I was taking care of a niece and nephew one night so that my aunt and uncle could have an evening out. At about 2am they got home, in very much a drunken state. In this state my uncle was becoming rather philosophical, endowing me with his outlook on life, when he happened to mention that we were Irish. Apparently, he said, our Holdens came from Liverpool, but before that were Irish. He was sure about it. So, of course, I am ashamed to say, I regurgitated this “history” on many occasions.

It was a number of years later when I became interested in my family tree that I happened to mention this to my great-uncle Holden. He told me that this was not the case at all. The Holdens had lived in Lancashire for as long as he knew. No Irish there he said. So, I guess the moral of the story is that you should not believe the drunk when he’s telling you about your history. I should add, however, that my great-uncle told me that his great-grandmother was Scottish, born with the suitable name of MacAdam. Actually she was English and the name was Gatland. I have to wonder – which drunk told him that story?