So, last year, The Male and I went off on vacation to the Isle of Man. Ever since we had married, he’d been saying that he wanted to visit, as he had heard all his life how his family had roots there.
We made our plans, talking about what details he knew about these ancestors. “I think I remember the name as Edward O’Garrett. I guess we lost the O along the way.”
The night before we left, my mother-in-law brought out an old type-written paper, with all the details about the Garretts who came to America. What timing!
Turns out, the name was Garrett all along. Edward O. Garrett. O for Osborn!
Armed with the information in this document, we flew off to London, not really knowing what would come of this journey.
After traveling through Avebury and Oxford, we flew from Manchester over the Irish Sea to Douglas, the capital of the IoM.
Our first drizzly morning there, we discovered that our B&B was (providentially) only a 10 minute walk up from the hill to the Manx Museum. This island nation is so small, all the archives are in one place, in this lovely little museum. But, we had no idea of that when we embarked. All we had was this piece of paper.
Which turned out to be more than enough to make our heads spin a bit.