We are delighted to have received the following from our recent visitor to these shores, Ian Whittington:
‘I recently fulfilled a dream that I have nurtured for almost a decade and that was to return to the home of my ancestors of my father’s line. As I have compiled my family history I have always known of this small town on the Isle of Wight named Shalfleet where we came from. Over the years I have had contact with a couple of locals and prepared myself for my return “home”.
I was blessed that my visit should coincide with a Sunday Communion service at St Michaels. I knew that this would be a far removed from the more modern Family service at my home church of St, Johns Anglican in Wollongong, New South Wales, Australia.
I spent some time on the Friday I arrived wandering the church grounds, looking at the very old headstones, wondering if my family were here. I then enjoyed some time inside the church marvelling at the obvious age of things. There on the wall is a memorial to my great great grandfather’s brother James Whittington.
On Sunday at the beginning of the service I was given a warm welcome by Nick Oulton, who like myself enjoys cricket. Nick reminded us that we all sin, using the Australian Cricket team as an example! It was a lovely service led by Val. I had a coffee with Nick after the service and then – after a bit of scarifying of his lawn! – enjoyed a peaceful stroll back to my place of stay at Wellow. How beautiful are the country lanes of West Wight. So different from the freeways and suburban streets of home.
Armed with a map of the headstones in the church yard I returned on the Monday to photograph the Whittingtons. I headed off to the Records Office at Newport to find out who was below as the inscriptions were long gone on most, and the names on the plan were often used in our family. To my amazement, at the East corner of the church are the graves of my great great great grandfather James Whittington and his father, my great great great great grandfather William Whittington. James is late of Ningwood Dairy Farm and the father of the James Whittington commemorated inside the church. What also impacted me was that the headstone of William had been standing since Captain Cook had sailed into Botany Bay in New South Wales and claimed Australia, as it is now known, as a British colony. William had lived his life in Shalfleet before Captain Cook had sailed! I was very moved by this revelation and thanked God for this blessing. I felt that my years of research had been so worth it.
Our history in Australia is so shallow. We have just arrived. It would be remiss of me not to acknowledge our wonderful indigenous people who have inhabited Australia for up to sixty thousand years. Sadly, white man has not treated them well. That is another story.
There was one more surprise in store. As I cycled down Station Road at Ningwood I stopped to ask a gentleman in his garden what would remain of Ningwood Dairy Farm. He informed me that I was standing in front of the original farmhouse, circa 1757. He and his wife invited me in for a look around. The lounge room was virtually unchanged. This was where my great great great grandfather James had sat with my great great grandfather George on his knee. We had a cuppa and a chat and they told me so much about Ningwood Dairy. It tied in beautifully with what I already knew.
My great great grandfather George who was born at Ningwood Dairy Farm, started his family in Shalfleet and then moved to London via Portsea. He had four surviving children and lost three and his wife to sickness. The four surviving children emigrated to Tasmania to start a new life and it’s yet to be confirmed but it appears that George has returned to Shalfleet and is buried at St. Michaels.
My visit to Shalfleet and surrounds was so much more than I ever expected. I cycled around the lanes, visited Newbridge and had a wonderful guided tour and met some lovely people. I was back in the church grounds photographing and met Chloe and had a lovely chat. So many lovely experiences that have firmly anchored me to Shalfleet. No longer is it just a little town on a map.’
Ian Whittington