Now it must be stated from the outset that, Parnaby is not the most common family name in the world. A rare species indeed. Not many of us around (I can hear you all say “thank you, thank you”): there are a number down on the Victorian border and some still out in the Outback western region of New South Wales. There doesn’t appear to be many in Yorkshire however. Well, our searching did not uncover too many. More about this later.

A genealogical study by a Melbourne academic a few years ago, noted that, when the 3 Parnaby brothers landed in Australia many football seasons ago in the early1800s and then they went their separate ways. Shaking hands and wishing each well, then heading off in separate directions. They originated from the Yorkshire area. I guess the more perceptive amongst you have now deduced why our pilgrimage to York. Yes, to visit what current research suggests, to be my ancestral home; the Bedale-Shillington-Whenby area. All some 10-15 miles out of York.

The three brothers (of which I am a direct descendant of James b. 1775 d. 1872), were to subsequently co-incidentally meet up in the Far West of New South Wales: out around Lake Cargellico - West Wyalong -  Condoblin. Freakishly all establishing transport businesses with a set of bullocks. Pictures that the family have of these drays, a rather daunting. It took 1 mile to turn them around. back in those days with no blinks on their vehicles, a slow and painstaking process I’m sure. 

“The Brothers 3” had as their major trade the movement of wool, wheat and other farm produce from the farm gate to rail and other transport hubs. It was this entrepreneurial flair that captured a Melbourne Academic’s interest some years ago. Contact being made with my father and his brother (Harold), in search of some family information. From this contact, a rather large and impressive publication resulted (The Parnaby Brothers from Whenby). A book having pride of place in my little study a home. Something which Fred is endeavouring to keep up to date with our extended family. A source of pride and surprise. Yes, as with all families, a few “skeletons”. 

Not much is known what skills the 3 brothers brought to Australia but the academic’s rather conclusive observation indicates that the 3 Parnaby brothers had a significant role to play in the opening up of the Far West of New South Wales. If nothing else, drive, determination and true grit being most evident. My father (“Bill”) was born at Tullibigeal in 1927 and has often talked about his experiences of living in shantys at Lake Cargellico’s outskirts: a tough transient life. As a family legislation at that time did not allow them to live like squatters in one location for too long, nor be able to “live in town”: they were often moved on or left as the food and clothing coupons they had acquired from the local police had expired and could only be re-issued in another location. Movement to another location was also in search of work for Alfred (grandfather b1885 d 1959). Hard times indeed as often the opportunity of work was scarce: you had to be in the right spot at the right time.

But back to York and Yorkshire. Our major focus was to visit a number of places noted above. The Whenby area is not all that well known by the locals. It was not until we spoke with a Tourist Information fellow. We were aware of its location, but not knowing what to expect, we were fearful that Whenby may only be a location-district name. We were assured that indeed it did exist.

Our morning started with breakfast at Betty’s: a traditional Yorkshire Tea House. Our 9am meeting seemed a little late: but nothing opens prior to this time due to the weather. No early morning coffees on the way to work here !! We had arranged to meet Gerry Kershaw an English Refereeing Official who had assisted us with our prior Hull experience. Gerry is a York local. A pleasant setting in this very popular venue. The patrons line up and wait to get in. We beat the rush. I had the traditional haddock for breakfast, Fred “Florentine Rossi” another York traditional meal. All washed down with “ a cuppa tea, luv”. English breakfast of course: not diluted nor coloured with milk nor sweetened with sugar. Just “non-white” tea, straight out of the pot after Gerry had turned it 3 times clockwise and then stirred the pot. The latter being something that I have never done. No tea bags in this establishment thank you very much !!

Gerry was very interested in what we had done, were doing and Rugby League in Australia. Our couple of hours went ever so quickly. We talked about common acquaintances, the state of rugby league (“not going too well”, was gerry’s Impression), and general places to visit and a little about Whenby. Gerry was the second person we had come across tht knew where it was generally. He is a retired Secondary school teacher. Gerry was an extremely engaging fellow. He went out of his way to ensure that our Hull Kingston Rovers visit was one to remember. I hope I get the opportunity to repay his diligence some day when he comes over to Australia.

Betty’s was becoming crowded so we decided to part our ways and start our Parnaby search. The older part of York is quite close to our accommodation and so soon we were on our way. Fred had our general directions worked out: I just had to pilot our Audi out along the A59 and then along some quite narrow country lanes, surrounded by the now typical thatched hedges. Shillington (where my GG Grandfather was born) was the nearest of our intended. First stop. We stopped at the St Nicholas Church and looked in the graveyard. Not that we thought he was buried here, but headstones of the late 1700s and early 1800s were very common. Ominously, the church’s bell tower struck 12 rings while we were there. Something which we were later to find out was ominously quirky. Shillington is set in farmland and probably hasn’t changed much in many many years. Inside the church were some “honour boards” which detailed benefactors dating back to 1654 (no that’s not the time, it was the “year of our Lord”). This area appeared to have many “poor women”: so money and property (one with 17 acres and 6 perches - what if people didn’t have Pet birds ?) were commonly distributed to these poor folk. 

From here an extended drive to Bedale where my GGG Grandfather was born. Bedale is a much larger town. Very exquisite and wide Main Street. Again, we visit St Gregory’s Parish Church in search of some evidence of the Parnaby past. Many headstones here dating back to 1791. Many Metcalfes, Braithwaite and Edens, but sadly no “Parnabys”. They had to be somewhere: perhaps the tradition of being quiet, undemonstrative characters (as they were) has continued down the years to the current crop ?

Onto other parts of the Moors and Northern Yorkshire. Fred has indicated on numerous times that “it is pretty country”. I can’t disagree: how can it be so green given the terrible winter they have just had ? Plenty of water lying in paddocks and on the road edges: in fact I would say the whole area is saturated. Couldn’t take much more rain. Passing through many small villages which would have had a population of less than a few hundred people. All within a short drive back to major centres like York. Very idyllic and peaceful. One such place being Hoveringham. A photo is nearby which would save many words.

Whenby was my major focus. Found without any issue; a hamlet with about 10 houses along with the impressive Whenby Grange which is emulated down in Albury New South Wales. An idyllic spot housed along a small single lane country lane. This would probably be one of the few roads that we have driven in the past few days, that did not have a title or a label (eg B1078 etc). Green rolling hills with thatched fencing breaking up the rural aspect. This former dairy country now mainly sheep. We bumped into a fellow (“I’m not a local, I live over the Vale about 1.5 miles away” !!): he was incredibly English. A rather “posh” accent but very likeable. He told us a little about the church (St Martins Parish Church circa 1287AD) that my GG Grandfather was married in 1831. Fred insisted that we get a picture at the altar to emulate the previous ceremony “that started all of this”. What “luck” she has experienced; now she has proof of what I have been telling her for many cricket seasons. We posed and presented ourselves at the altar. One regret was that I didn’t get to kiss the bride but I did pick some flowers and present to her some “Whenby Daffodils” (these grow everywhere along the roads and in the fields). I think that she was somewhat overcome with emotion: not much of a reaction followed. Deep thinker is our Fred.

The medieval church was quite small: perhaps could house about 50 parishioners. The front door still survives from the 16th Century !! Wow, I was in a place that I know one of my forebears was in. My thoughts brought me to think of our good friends John and Thelma Sirone. Like me a true gent !!

I sat in every pew: I felt that by doing so, I would be sitting in the spiritual lap of one of them !! “Hey lad, what are you doin’, there are plenty seats there, use them”. “Yes Grandad, I will, but let me shake your hand please.” It was subliminal chatter, but for me it was real. I looked around and noted that this is the aisle that GG Grandad saw his bride walk down to the altar. She wouldn’t have been late, as it would have taken her about 5 steps after entering the church door. Not much time for him to jump the pews and scamper if he was having second thoughts, eh ? This is the place where history tells us that it all started. The Parnaby linage sprung from this very point: something to savour and reflect upon.

Other scant research suggests that the Parnabys were actually Scandinavian and part of the Viking invasion of these areas. 

Fred was outside and then returned. We both sat, talked (very rare occurrence !!) and reflected. Typically the church was positioned on the highest part of the surrounds at one end of the village. The remaining houses linearly arranged along the country lane. Our graveyard inspection again finding late 1700s and early 1800s headstones, but no Parnaby mention. 

From here we were to make the short journey to Malton where the Parnaby Saddlery and Equestrian business was located. A Parnaby owned this up to about a year or so ago: attempts to contact the previous owner not all that successful. Fred had emailed this shop and when we identified ourselves, we were remembered by the manager. We were well received. The business has been continuously owned by Parnabys since 1725 !! Many parts of the shop, still having the original timber. Most of this being in an upstairs attic which was being restored and we could not see. Indeed, Parnabys still “haunt” the shop. Yes, the shop assistants all detailed rather frequent sightings of “old Mr Parnaby” all seemed convinced that such a spirit exists: with such things as items in this thriving business being moved, walking up and down the stairs and making a noise. No contact, just evidence of another spirit being around. all the staff seemed comfortable with this. Spooky indeed.

Malton is a small country town which has now developed a reputation of being the food capital of Yorkshire. We walked the streets taking the occasional photo: in doing so, causing a lady to rush out of a butcher shop to move her car. “ (pointing at my ipad poised to take a photo) ....Are you about to book me luv ?“, she remarked. It took me my surprise. Once I told her what I was doing, she returned to get her pheasant and mince from the butcher. I wonder if there would be a career in being a pheasant pluckers son ? I can feel a song coming on. The former, being most common road kill throughout this area. Real estate here is quite expensive as well. So much for Australian prices !! You could spend a million dollars without too much trouble. A dual occupancy terraced house in town, would cost you about $AUD800K. With all the upkeep, as each house has a heritage classification, I see it as an expensive item.

Malton is a typical town, very quaint, many cobble stone and narrow roads where everybody that walks past, greets you. One particular young lad responded when I said “G’day” in response to a salvation from his mother. In a typically English manner, the young lad said, “Mummy, that man speaks funny”. Obviously, he’s lacking in education and doesn’t recognise suave sophistication when he sees it. The shops are small and obviously locally owned. Offering all the goods and services that the locals could want. Just as the Parnaby shop does. According to the manager of the shop, it is a thriving business that caters for the flourishing horse trade in the area. Not only equestrian, but for fox hunts as well !! The manager indicated that the latter being a very big component of the business trade.

It was time to tread back to York. Only some 20 miles: again a fast trip was expected. Not to be, as we came across some heavy and slow traffic. Still the GPS ( Gay Parnaby system) guided us back to Bootham Place in York without an issue. It had been a rather special day. Touching history can be a most rewarding experience.

Time for a competition. A rather easy one this time and one which should produce some purely fascinating material. After all, history is about yesterday and not today. Why don’t you put Parnaby into your search engine and see what you come up with. Best answer, will receive a free pass to go to Malton (at your expense) and be introduced to the Parnaby ghost. A purely spiritual experience indeed. Perhaps Mr Parnaby may be able to shed a little gossip on our forefathers ?