My day in Preston.

I had to post this today, 6 March 2009 before I forget. I went to Preston last Friday and I went today, primarily to pick up a photocopy I ordered from the records office. Its a 20 min. walk cum hop cum little run to the station, 50 min on the train and then about 10 min. fast walk from Preston station to the records office and this morning the train was late. So you can see that by the time I finally get there I am already harassed and exhausted. Especially as the record office is on the first floor - those stairs seem very steep. Then there is the usual struggle to get everything into the lockers they supply without dropping everything on the floor, you are not allowed bags and coats in the search room. Anticipation making a simple job harder. Then you have to sign in. Then wait to be let in. By this time I'm humming like a sprinter waiting for the start gun.
I am getting to like Preston records office, now that I am more comfortable with the layout and gaining a little understanding of the way it works. In particular there is one lady who is very helpful. But its still very much like a lucky dip - there is this pirates cave with unknown treasures you put in your hand pull something out and it may be dross or pure gold. I don't even know what I am looking for half of the time. Today more than ever I knew that I was on a strict time limit. Last Friday I only managed to catch the train home by the skin of my teeth.....and ended up a huffing puffing red faced blob who was very happy that the carriage was empty and I could recover without any embarrassment. And today I had very very ambitious plans more of which I will reveal later.......
So 1 o'clock was the deadline, now get on with the tale. I collected the photocopy, put in a request for burials Preston meeting house 1837-1855 then not to waste a minute plucked an 1824 Lancashire directory off the shelf to peruse whilst I waited. Then I remembered that last week I found out where the Guild roll microfiche were so I jumped up to lay claim to a machine. It was quite busy today. With quivering hands, which invariable occurs on the first use of a new type of document I was quite confident that I would find something ......now I only checked one, thinking they would be on there but found no Wilcocksons. Disappointment, I also had trouble following the layout so will have to have another look at these records another time. I refrained from stamping my foot or slamming the microfiche draw shut, I didn't even tut. Oh no, times too precious for wasting a second. Around the walls are shelves of books and files. Skimming along the spines my heart jumped....Quakers, there are about five books I want to read but no time today. So a quick flick through ohhhh why don't I live in Preston. Then I glance up and see that my number is up. There is a display scene at one end of the room and when your document is ready for collection your number scrolls endlessly from one end to the other. I'm torn, can I spend a few more moments looking through these books or will there be something more exciting in the burial records? Reluctantly the books are abandoned. Trying not to look too eager I saunter to the counter to collect, I don't know why but this bit always makes me feel like I'm back at school going to the teachers desk at the front of the classroom and I know everyone is equally engrossed in their own research but I can't help but feel a hundred eyes boring into my back and just hope I don't disgrace myself by tripping up or dropping something. The walk back seems even further. I was expecting a ledger, what I got was a single sheet of paper. There were not a lot of names on it and they were in alphabetical order so not the original records. There were no Wilcocksons. Hmmmmmmm. Time up, no chance to end on a high note. But then this is what I am use to, so much time spent with little to show for it. Then this is also the fun of the thing too. And anyways I was desperate for a drink. So time to grab my things and head for the great outdoors for I had another mission for today, a far greater mission.
I wanted to see if I could find the house of Isaac Wilcockson. I had memorised how to get from the records office. Not stopping to leisurely quench my thirst but swigging from a bottle of water on the hoof I trotted off. The sky was blue, the sun was shining. Being lunch time the center was teeming, people getting in my way slowing me down but luckily I was soon turning off the main street. It was only a few moments before my heart was lifting and amazement filling me. Oh oh I'm in love, I'm in love with Preston. Apart from the Harris museum building I have not been impressed with Preston before but now I've seen another side. A side of graceful buildings, of streets I can imagine pictures of the past. The Preston I have sought is the one the Wilcocksons would have seen. The Preston of before Victorian times, the Preston that drew the Wilcockson there in the first place. I think I have found part of it. Its only just behind the main street - the noisy bustling thoroughfare is soon replaced with peace and quiet (well apart from the traffic) and so it must also have been in days gone by. This was the well to do part of town I think. I am going back and I will have more time with a camera to take photos but this was a scouting expedition. No time to linger and soak in the atmosphere. The clock is ticking, will I find it? Will it even still be there? My step quickens, I can't quite believe how pretty it is. Then the end of the road and .........speechless, no words to describe. I have to stop. I am standing at the park gates and lying beneath me spread out at my feet the land falls away and I am looking out over a plain. What a picture, what a view. And away to my left is Ribblesdale Place - the street where Isaac lived. Now I know we cannot rely on house numbers as they may have changed over time. In the census of 1851 and 1861 Isaac is living at number 12. The present number 12 is next but one to the park entrance and at this point I feel this was probably Isaac's house. (See update to this in 'Family history story', this is not the original house.) It backs onto the park and must have spectacular views. The house directly next to the park entrance has a blue plaque on the wall. Number 12 is a detached property and has been (I do not know the correct word - the brickwork covered and painted) altered by the look of it. I walked up the street, ohhh there's a building I've seen in books....the Harris Institute(? need to double check) a majestic building but oh so sad with a for sale board proclaiming it rejected status. And flowing away just such a lovely walkway I can see them dressed up in their finery promenading, and its all on Isaacs doorstep!!!! I have seen drawings of walks in Preston, now I need to match them up with street names. The really rich place in Preston is just a street away so Isaac must have mingled with the best of Preston society.
I had one more thing to do today. So no time to waste. A good job it wasn't far from the maddening crowds for I was determined to revisit the Harris library and ask about joining. This I managed to do.....now I can borrow books next time I go. And to cap it all even had a few spare moments to go upstairs into the reference library. Another place I could spend years in. And asked about the 1801 census which I shall post about another time. Then it was pant pant, but not quite as bad as last week, as I retraced my steps to the station. I didn't even waste the return journey - I was reading a gripping book about London's history, all about plagues and fires and train crashes. So you see all in all I had a very busy day and I am quite ready for a quiet weekend.