It has been one of those frustrating days where I haven't stopped for long but have achieved little. It's the lack of space thing which is getting to me...again. We have an old sideboard thing in the bedroom with bookshelves stuffed full of books on the top of it and underneath is a horrid cupboard. The sort of cupboard which gives me the shudders. Because that's where I keep all the family history stuff.

And there are heaps and heaps of records...census returns and marriage certs and copies of this that and the other and trying to find just one item amongst it all is a nightmare. I pull gingerly at a likely looking stack of paper and it all comes tumbling out onto the floor and there is no way that one record is that stack gets pushed back and out comes another and so it goes on and I have families all mixed up with each other and I still haven't found the record from the Norfolk Workhouse about Mary's birth.

And I really do need it because she was the Mother of the Grandmother of Lynn who has sent me loads of photographs after we were in touch on Ancestry and that record is all I have to send her a copy of in return.

Then Annies cottage has finally been sold and the new owner...who can talk the hind leg off a donkey...has just called to get the key. She's going to stuff four children...a Connemara pony and a heavy-weight Draught horse in there...well...I don't suppose she'll have the horses in the cottage but you never know. She's champing at the bit 'cos she wants to get on with moving and the solictors are being slow in the only way solictors can be...

Will's cottage has been sold as well, to a Welsh couple. We haven't met them yet though.

I've made a couple of file holders from Cornflake packets in the vain hope I'll learn to put paperwork away properly in future...the heaps in the cupboard will have to be sorted out bit by bit when I feel able for it...probably during the winter on a wet afternoon.

There was another job I'd not heard of before on a census form today...a 'boot clicker'...that was a skilled and well paid job because the clicker cut out the uppers and sides for pairs of boots. It was his job to make the best use of the piece of leather and the word 'clicker' comes from the sound his cutter made as it cut out the pattern. And there was also a 'dog whipper'...and his job was to drive away the dogs who congregated around a church door...because foxes tails or brushes would be nailed to the church doors to show proof of how many had been caught so the fox killer could get paid. Neither the boot clicker or the dog whipper are connected to me...they were on the same census form as a remote cousin three times removed. I'm not sure I'd want to be connected to a dog whipper really.