Geoff Coupe's Blog

Reflections on life at “De Witte Wand”…

Category: Family

  • Never A Dull Moment

    As I wrote here, we’ve got a new addition to the household: Watson, a Labrador puppy. He arrived in the house on the last day of September.

    Originally, I wanted to call the puppy Pi, since our other dog is called Kai. Martin wasn’t convinced that the names were different enough for canine ears. We tested it out with Kai, and he seemed to be able to distinguish between the two, but Martin still wasn’t having it.

    So then I came up with Watson. The origin is that the mentally handicapped son of a friend of ours cannot pronounce my name. So he calls me "What". That, I have to say is because of my habit of saying “What?”, when something strikes me as bizarre. From there, it was just a small step to arrive at Watson (or, "son of Wat" in etymological terms). Martin has come to accept it, although he took some persuading. A further twist on the name is the reference to Alexander Graham Bell, and the very first words to his assistant over the first telephone were "Mr. Watson — Come here —I want to see you". I suspected I was going to be saying something very similar, very often, to Watson…

    The first couple of weeks with Watson were spent trying to stop a multitude of disasters from happening. Pissing and pooping in the house when our backs were turned, chewing through anything in sight, including live cables, pulling tablecloths on fully-laden tables with china and cutlery, the list went on and was added to as he increased in inventiveness. Nights were being woken up every couple of hours by Watson’s whining to be let out to piss or poop. Needless to say, I was the one who had to leave a nice warm bed to go outside in my dressing gown in the rain waiting for a very small bundle of joy to perform its business. It was at times like this when I noticed the resemblance of a puppy to a rat.

    Kai wasn’t too sure what to make of Watson at first. He spent a few days practising his hurt look, which he turned on us at any opportunity (particularly after his tail had just been chewed by Watson) as if to say: “What the fuck have you done? What did I do to deserve this?” Eventually he came round and started to let Watson play with him. Kai is very gentle with Watson, and takes care not to hurt him,  but I think that’s backfired on him. Watson is determined to be top dog, and plays very hard with poor Kai, who just wants to have a quiet life. Kai puts up with all the nips and barking very stoically. I would have bitten Watson’s head off by now. Our shoes and slippers (and my hands) are being chewed to pieces, and I noticed yesterday that he’s started to chew on the wooden surround of one of my loudspeakers. That is the last straw. We’ve smeared sambal on it in an attempt to stop that.

    My great nephew, on seeing photos of Watson emailed to say that he thought that Watson looked “really cute, but a bit crazy”. Today, I was replying to his email. I’d just got as far as writing:

    "…a bit crazy"? That’s an understatement – Watson is as mad as a box of frogs!

    At that point, I went to see what the dogs were doing. Watson was running pell-mell around the yard, ignoring Martin’s calls to come to him, and Kai ran out of the house to see what Watson was doing. Watson sees Kai, and rushes towards him; Kai’s momentum keeps him moving towards Watson, and they collide – heavily. Watson ends up on the ground, screaming. Kai immediately backs off, tail between his legs. Watson doesn’t seem to be able to move his right hind leg and carries on screaming.

    I pick him up very carefully and take him indoors while Martin rings the vet. Watson quietens down eventually, but still doesn’t want to use his leg. Off we all go to the vets, where he gets x-rayed. Yep, he’s broken his leg. The vet says that he’s going to operate on him immediately and pin his leg back together. Martin has an attack of the vapours and all but passes out at the news.

    So, as I write this, the vet is probably cutting open Watson’s leg and is preparing to drill holes for the pins. I’m expecting to be called at about 7pm tonight and will go and pick up Watson. No doubt the vet will give me copious instructions on all the extra care and attention Watson is going to need over the next weeks.

    As I say, never a dull moment…

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  • A New Arrival

    Our dog, Kai, will be seven years old next March. Labradors have a life expectancy of between ten and twelve years. We thought it might be a good idea, before he gets too old, to have a companion for his later years. Here’s Watson, born on the 29th July 2009…

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    Of course, at this stage, he spends most of his time asleep…

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  • Down At The Waterhole

    Thursday was really warm. We went, with a friend, to have lunch by a local lake, and (for a couple of us) to cool off. Watching the local water-ski enthusiasts was pretty interesting too. They were of all ages. Unlike me, however, they (mostly) managed to remain upright on their skis. I think I’ll stick to just taking photos.

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  • Family History Revisited

    Earlier this year, I blogged about a piece of our family history. As a result, I was contacted by a distant relative, and we’ve been able to piece together some more details about my great-great-great grandfather and great-great grandparents. She provided us with this photo of the great-great grandparents. I’ve updated the original blog entry. Fascinating stuff.
    John and Corra Johnson

  • Happy Birthday, Kai!

    Our brown labrador, Kai, is four years old today…

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  • Who Do You Think You Are?

    My brother has been trying to piece together our family history for some time now. He started long before it became fashionable. Unfortunately, the trail back through time peters out fairly quickly – the curse of having common family names, I suppose. We would like to know more about our mother’s side of the family in particular, because we have Indian ancestry via our great-great grandmother.

    The story goes that our great-great-great grandfather was serving in the British Army in India in the 1820s-1830s. We’re not even sure of his name and rank – family folklore calls him Colonel Murray Holmes, but we’ve drawn a blank on that name in the army records so far. Apparently he married an Indian, but after the birth of a daughter in 1833(?) (our great-great-grandmother) she died. The child was brought back to England by a Major Penrice, who became her guardian. What happened to Colonel Holmes, we don’t know. Did he go mad with grief over the death of his wife? Did he get killed? Did he go AWOL? We are unlikely to find out. In any event, the child grew up and in due course married into a farming family – the Johnsons – in Cumbria. The only photograph we have of her was taken in about 1900, we think. Our mother remembered her visiting the family in about 1910 – as an imposing old lady who arrived in a pony and trap. Our mother would have been about six years old at the time. This is the photograph.

    g-g-Grandmother Johnson, 1900

    The photographs that we have of our great-aunts (Corra, Annie, Ethel and Emily) and our great-uncle George are even more striking, as they clearly show our Indian roots. These were taken in 1915.

    G-Aunts Cora, Annie, Ethel, Emily, G Uncle George Johnson circa 1915
    G Aunts Cora & Annie, G uncle George Johnson circa 1915

    Of course, by the time you get to our generation, mongrelisation has well and truly taken over, and I suppose that all that’s left is my Lamarckian fondness for curry… My Desi roots are all but lost.

    Update 16 December 2007: Well thanks to Shelly, we’ve now gleaned a little more of the family history. It turns out that we didn’t have the correct name for our great-great-great grandfather. He turns out to have been Lieutenant Colonel George Home Murray in the 16th Lancers. He died in Cawnpore, India on the 15th December 1833 after a few days illness. It was possibly cholera, since in August of that year there was a cholera epidemic in the Regiment. 364 men out of a total strength of 580 were admitted to hospital during the period of 22nd August to 24th September, and 60 men died of the disease. Colonel Murray was buried in the Cawnpore cemetary, where a monument was erected to his memory by the officers of the Regiment. I wonder whether it still stands?

    My brother has also been busy. He’s engaged a genealogist, who, amongst other things, has turned up the last will and testament of Colonel Murray. It turns out that while he acknowledges our great-great grandmother as an heir, she is named in the will as “the daughter of an Asian woman”. Whether she was his flesh and blood or not (and the probability seems high that she was), she took the name of Corra Home. Another piece of the jigsaw fell into place when we saw that the executor of Colonel Murray’s will was a Thomas Penrice. Could this be the “Major Penrice” who became Corra’s guardian? In any case, we now know that Corra was apparently born in 1827 (not 1833) in Calcutta, and she married John Johnson, a soldier in the 2nd Life Guards. He was born in about 1821 in Macclesfield. Further digging is afoot…

    Update 17 December 2007: Shelly turned up trumps again – she’s found a photo of the monument to Colonel Murray. The internet is amazing…

  • In Memoriam

    Olive Josephine Coupe (née Johnson): 12 June 1904 – 7 June 2001
    Percy Coupe: 23 July 1903 – 9 October 1989.

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    A picture of my mother and father, taken in Ramsey on the Isle of Man, in 1978.