My mother was the first of her family to be born in Canada. Her grandparents, aunts and uncles all lived in England. Christmas cards and letters were sent to her parents rather than to her. It wasn't until she was in her 20s, married several years and expecting me, that she met her maternal grandfather for the first time. They visited Lower Fort Garry with all the family then in Canada.

My great-grandfather had started his life in rural Essex, but instead of following his father into the pub trade, he headed for London and the railyards of the East End, becoming a blacksmith in the early 20th century. As a husband and father of small children, and as someone who provided a necessary trade, he was exempted from service during the First World War. He was at the same forge in the railyards from the late Edwardian period right up until it closed in the 1960s and he retired.

The crowd of Canadian relatives moved through Lower Fort Garry and it wasn't until sometime later that one of them did a quick headcount and discovered that their English connection had disappeared. He was found in the forge, having taken over from the animator, demonstrating to other visitors how everything worked and sharing his tales of life in the East End during the Blitz. My mom said it was fascinating, both to see him at work and to hear his stories. It was the only time they ever met and she's certain that she would never have learned so much about him if they had spent the day at home.