Journals of a Time Traveller

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

I have traced my paternal lineage (Y-DNA Haplogroup L-M20 > M22 > M317 > SK1412 > SK1414 > FGC51041 > FGC51088 > FGC51036) back to the Zagros and South Caucasus mountain ranges of South-west Asia, approximately 25,000 years ago. From there, I have followed its journey to southern England, proposing two primary hypotheses for its arrival: the Roman occupation or the Late Medieval period.

The line is represented in my great-grandfather’s generation by John Henry Brooker. Born in Deptford, he was a professional gunner in the Royal Field Artillery; Act 11 focused on his life and military campaigns. However, as the vast majority of my recorded ancestry over the last 200 to 500 years is rooted in Norfolk, a question remains: how did the L-FGC51036 clade enter an East Anglian family? This Act explores that mystery.

Above image is a colourised and restored image of an original, that I'll attach the original of in a posthaven gallery at the bottom of this page. The boy on the far left of the image, third row bar (red circled), was my late paternal grandfather, Reginald John Brooker in 1920 at East Dereham, Norfolk.

My paternal-line great-grandparents were John Henry Brooker (born 1884 at Deptford London), and Faith Eliza Brooker nee Baxter, born 1885 at East Dereham Norfolk. Here is an AI reconstruction based on the few photos of them both, that have survived: 

But of course in real-life, Reginald's parents wouldn't have often been seen together like this! This is an AI reconstruction. Its not real. Because in life, I suspect that they were not very fond of each other. Perhaps I'm being a little cruel in putting them together in this artificial reconciliation. Allow me to explain the real story, as much as I have ascertained after years of research.  After all, it is also the story of how Y-DNA L-FGC51036 enters Norfolk and an East Anglian family. Original photos and facial, references at the bottom of this post are enclosed in a gallery.

During the early 1900s, Faith was working as a Norfolk maid in London. At Christmas in 1905, she returned home to East Dereham, Norfolk, to give birth to a daughter named Gladys. As an unmarried mother in Edwardian England, her prospects were bleak. Yet, a few months later, a young Deptford-born gunner named John Henry Brooker took leave from the Royal Field Artillery and arrived in East Dereham to marry the young mother.

The marriage, however, was fraught. When John was posted to the barracks at Ballinrobe, Mayo in Ireland, Faith reportedly followed him there, but the reunion was short-lived. Following a swift falling-out, Faith returned alone to East Dereham, where my grandfather, Reginald John Brooker, was born on 18th August 1908.

Above, an AI reconstruction of young Reginald Brooker at Northall Green, East Dereham Norfolk. He is happily playing as his own grandfather, William Bennett Baxter sits in the foreground. Based on actual photos of them both.

For years, the physical distance and the sudden estrangement cast a shadow of doubt over Reginald's paternity. But where oral history faltered, modern genetic matching has provided irrefutable clarity. DNA analysis of Reginald’s descendants reveals undeniable connections not just to John Henry’s immediate line, but deeper still into his maternal ancestry and the Edney family tree. Because these families lived on the entirely opposite side of England, the presence of these shared centimorgans can mean only one thing: John Henry Brooker was, without doubt, Reginald's biological father.

This genetic truth breathes new life into old family memories. It explains why John quietly paid a maintenance allowance for his estranged son across the miles, and it gives profound meaning to his final gesture. Many years later, John passed his silver pocket watch down to Reginald—the ultimate, timeless token of recognition from a father to his son.

With Reginald’s lineage firmly vindicated, his birth marks the moment a remarkably distinct genetic line intertwined with Norfolk’s long-established ancestry. His patrilineage, Y-DNA L-FGC51036, possessed ancient roots in the Zagros and South Caucasus mountain valleys of South-West Asia. Over millennia, it migrated through Syria and into the Levant. From there, a rare "ghost" lineage managed to evade extinction across the centuries, embarking on a long journey to Southern England. It eventually settled in the Thames Valley before moving downstream into the bustling communities of East London. Through a soldier's brief journey to Norfolk, this ancient global nomad finally found a permanent home in East Anglia.

A few years after Faith left John, and Reginald was born, a national census reveals old family secrets.

The Next Movement: The Edwardian Triangle

In 1911, the official census ledger records that Faith had indeed returned to Northall Green Farm. Her parents, the Baxters, resided there as agricultural employees in a tied cottage. Faith had moved into the very next cottage, bringing with her her five-year-old daughter Gladys and her two-year-old son, my grandfather Reginald.

But this document contains far more than a simple record of residency. When combined with family lore and the cutting-edge reality of modern genetic matching, it exposes the high-stakes drama of an Edwardian love triangle.

The head of the household in that second cottage was Robert Hayes. Born in 1884 in Wigan, Lancashire, Robert had moved to Norfolk as a young child—a return for his parents to his mother’s native county and birth town. By 1911, the 27-year-old Robert was working as a labourer on the farm. Faith was right there under his roof, officially recorded under the convenient, respectable title of "Housekeeper" to satisfy the passing enumerator.

The domestic arrangement, however, was beautifully transparent. Living with them was an eight-month-old baby girl bearing the highly telling name of Winifred Hayes Brooker. While Robert was listed as single, Faith was recorded as married. Her legal husband, Gunner John Henry Brooker, was hundreds of miles away, stationed at his Royal Field Artillery barracks in County Mayo, Ireland.

For a long time, the genetic data presented a frustrating anomaly. I had noticed that a tested second cousin—descended from Faith’s eldest daughter, Gladys—shared a significantly weaker percentage of centimorgans with my sibling and me than standard inheritance charts predicted. In fact, it was about half of what we expected. At that time, before the links to John Henry’s broader tree were fully solidified, a dark worry crept in: Had my grandfather Reginald been fathered by someone else?

Then, the breakthrough arrived in the form of an incredible message from an entirely independent DNA tester—a descendant not of the Brookers, but of Robert Hayes’s family line:

"Hello Paul, I hope you don't mind me contacting you. I have an anomaly in my tree and I'm hoping you can help with it... I have a DNA match with someone whose great-grandmother is Faith E. Baxter. All the trees I have looked at, including your Norfolk tree, show that her daughter Gladys' father was J.H. Brooker. My great-grandmother's brother was Robert Hayes. Faith was shown as Robert's servant on the 1911 Census. The only way I can see that there is a DNA match is if Gladys' biological father was Robert Hayes!"

With those few sentences, the entire house of cards collapsed, giving way to a brilliant new truth. This revelation aligned perfectly with a growing number of genetic matches with the descendants of Henry and Elizabeth Rosina Brooker, firmly anchoring the lineage back into its Oxfordshire roots—connecting the branches of Brooker, Edney, Shawers, and Durran.

Gladys—born a few months before Faith’s hasty wedding to John Henry Brooker in 1906—had been fathered by Robert Hayes all along. The Deptford gunner’s "shotgun wedding" to the disgraced young maid wasn't the legitimization of his own child, but perhaps an act of profound chivalry?

Faith hadn’t simply drifted away from her soldier husband and returned to the safety of her parents' village. She had actively crossed the country to return to the arms of her original lover—the biological father of her firstborn child—and had promptly borne him a second daughter.

1921 Census of Northall Farm, Dereham, Norfolk.

What had life been like for two-year-old Reginald, living in that cottage as the child of John Henry Brooker, alongside the man who fathered his two siblings? Was there resentment? Was he well treated?

Family lore, as recounted to me by Gladys herself, reveals that Reggie was left at Northall Green to be brought up by his elderly grandparents, the Baxters. Gladys recalled fond memories of them and the farm, viewing Reggie as the fortunate one; she had remained with Faith, enduring what she described as a miserable childhood with her mother. She even confessed to feeling a pang of envy toward her half-brother. For his part, Reginald used to share fond childhood tales of the farm—including how he would dangle from the railway bridge, waiting for the steam engines to roar past beneath him.

Indeed, the 1921 census confirms this arrangement, recording a twelve-year-old Reginald living at the farm with his elderly grandparents. As for Robert Hayes. His relationship with Faith didn't last either. In 1924 he married another young woman in East Dereham. Faith headed east, to Norwich.

Reginald is pictured here with his wife, Doris, and their children on the steps of their council house in Dereham, Norfolk. Sitting between them is the little blonde boy with the distinct white collar—my father, Wesley Reginald Brooker. This image is an AI restoration and colourisation of the original 1939 photograph. It aligns perfectly with the accompanying page from the 1939 Register, which records the entire family at this exact residence on the eve of the Second World War.

During the Second World War, Reginald was excused from active duty on account of his very poor eyesight. Instead he was sent to work in ammunition and bomb factories at Enfield.

My Grandfather was employed for many years as a heavy labourer (despite his light frame) at a small Dereham iron foundry (I believe Hobbies Iron Foundry). There were a number of humorous stories attached to his time there. I've commissioned AI to reconstruct an image of him at work at a non-descript foundry:

A later AI restoration and colourisation of a genuine snapshot of my Grandfather, at the seaside front in Great Yarmouth, Norfolk. Characteristically with a cigarette in his mouth, and the Brooker strut:

Finally, an AI portrait, based on a photo of him in old age. Except that I never saw him looking so smart, but I recognise that familiar cheeky grin:

I should name it Pops, for that was the name his children knew him by. In later life, Reginald worked part-time at a girls' school in Dereham. He was an incredibly popular, charismatic man, well-liked by the pupils whose minor misdeeds he was always known to cover. He passed away in 1979, but I will always remember his broad smile and the tales of his bravado in the iron foundry.

He was a man of immense grit; we once visited him only to find he had tied a bad tooth to a door, ready to kick it shut. Another foundry legend went that he had once lain across a workbench while a workmate wrenched out a diseased tooth with ironwork pliers.

I hope the future will forgive my dreadful use of 2026 AI imagery—technology doesn't always tell an entirely true story. Because of this, I have preserved all the original photographs and reference documents in the Posthaven gallery below. Pops, Granddad, I remember you. I remember you well.

GO TO NEXT ACT - The Finale. Summary of this time travel across a timeline of a Y-DNA patrilineage.

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

It is 480 CE. It is spring, and a boat of new immigrants rows past the Roman Saxon Shore fort at Burgh Castle. The few guards stationed within the massive flint walls are remnants of the local limitanei—frontier militia who have transitioned from soldiers to hereditary farmers in the seventy years since Rome withdrew its administration.

Rome no longer holds jurisdiction here; its bureaucracy has evaporated. It no longer controls the sea estuary nor decides who may enter or depart. My hypothetical 55th great-grandmother would have faced no imperial barriers to her immigration to Britannia, passing under the gaze of men whose only authority was the land they stood upon. Perhaps she brings with her our mitochondrial DNA Haplogroup H6a1a8 private variant F8693412?

They have crossed the North Sea, having departed from their homeland near the Lower Elbe and the peninsula of Angeln (within present-day Schleswig-Holstein, Northern Germany). We would identify them as the Angles—the specific ethnic group who were to give their name first to East Anglia, and eventually to the kingdom of England.

Their ancestors lived beyond the frontiers of the Western Roman Empire. Her matrilineage may have migrated northwards from Alpine or Carpathian sources, following the course of the Elbe and passing through the Jastorf cultures before finally reaching the maritime peoples of the North Sea coast. There, amongst the salt marshes and estuaries, her kin merged into a distinct Anglian identity.

Copyright Source © OpenStreetMap contributors.

The drive to leave their homeland in the Angeln peninsula of present-day Schleswig-Holstein was born of necessity. A deteriorating climate and rising sea levels had turned their traditional coastal farms into waterlogged marshes, creating a desperate environmental push. Conversely, the "pull" of Britain was irresistible; it offered a landscape that was geographically familiar yet significantly more fertile. To these opportunists, the crumbling Roman infrastructure represented a vacuum of power rather than a barrier. They saw a land of established fields and abandoned villas where a new life could be carved out, far from the flooding and tribal volatility of the Germanic north.

The arrival of the Anglian immigrants in the Tas Valley circa 480 CE would have been a moment of profound cultural tension and pragmatic negotiation, played out against the backdrop of the decaying Roman regional capital, Venta Icenorum. By this stage, the town’s orderly grid had largely been reclaimed by the landscape, yet its massive stone walls remained a powerful psychological landmark for the Romano-British locals. These inhabitants—descendants of the Iceni who still viewed themselves as part of a Roman world—likely received the newcomers with a mixture of dread and guarded necessity. Lacking a professional military to defend their farmsteads from northern raiders, the locals may have viewed our fictional 55th great-grandmother’s kin not merely as invaders, but as potential mercenaries or protectors to be settled on the periphery of their territory.

The cultural clash between the two groups would have been immediate and visible. The Britons, likely Christian and still clinging to sub-Roman dress and Latinate customs, would have stood in sharp contrast to the Germanic-speaking Angles, who arrived with their pagan traditions, distinctive cruciform jewelry, and handmade stamped pottery. However, archaeology suggests that this was a period of wary coexistence rather than immediate total conquest. The Angles did not sack the ruins of the town but instead established a "shadow" settlement on the outskirts, utilizing the Roman roads and the river access while maintaining their own traditional timber halls.

Ultimately, the reception in the Tas Valley represented the final, fading heartbeat of Roman authority. The presence of the vast Anglo-Saxon cemetery just outside the walls of Caistor St Edmund indicates that the demographic balance was shifting rapidly. As the Anglian families grew in number and influence, their robust, self-sufficient social structure began to overwhelm the fragmenting Romano-British society. For the locals, the choice was one of gradual integration or retreat, as your ancestor’s people transitioned from being guests on the edge of a ruined city to becoming the new masters of the East Anglian heartland.

Drawing upon the experimental archaeology at West Stow, Suffolk, the primary dwelling our hypothetical ancestors would have constructed upon settling in the Tas Valley was the Sunken-Featured Building, or Grubenhaus. Far from the primitive "pit-houses" once imagined by early historians, these structures were sophisticated domestic units perfectly adapted to the post-Roman landscape. The defining characteristic was a rectangular pit dug into the sandy soil, which served not as a living floor, but as a ventilated air space beneath a suspended timber platform. By supporting the living area above the ground, this design provided crucial insulation and protected the inhabitants from the dampness of the East Anglian earth. Two or three substantial oak posts supported a central ridge pole, upon which rested a steeply pitched roof of water reed or straw thatch that reached nearly to the ground, creating a compact and thermally efficient environment.

Within these thatched dwellings, daily life was dictated by the functional versatility of the space. While they served as primary residences for some, many functioned as specialized craft huts where the naturally humid air trapped beneath the floorboards served a vital purpose. This humidity prevented woollen threads from becoming brittle, making the Sunken-Featured Building the ideal setting for the vertical warp-weighted looms used to produce the tribe's textiles. These buildings were organic and ephemeral; when the timbers eventually succumbed to rot, the community would simply backfill the hollow and erect a new structure nearby, leading to a shifting settlement pattern that contrasted sharply with the fixed masonry of the nearby Roman ruins. For a woman such as our 55th great-grandmother, the construction of these buildings marked the successful transplantation of a continental architectural tradition into the British soil, providing a familiar and self-sufficient home in an uncertain new world.

By 500 CE, the sharp ethnic boundaries of the initial migration had begun to soften into a complex, "hybrid" reality. As Robin Fleming highlights in her work Britain After Rome, the collapse of the Roman state was not just a political failure but a total breakdown of the systems that told people who they were. In this vacuum, identity became something negotiated at the local level, often over the hearth or through the joining of families.

The wedding of a Romano-British bride to a pagan Anglian groom in the Tas Valley would have been a vivid tableau of this social restructuring. For the bride’s father, a man perhaps still clinging to the memory of Roman civitas, the union was likely a pragmatic strategy for survival. By giving his daughter to an Anglian house, he was securing a "blood-bond" with the new military elite who now controlled the flow of grain and the safety of the roads. This was not necessarily a story of romantic integration, but of social re-calibration; the bride’s family provided the local knowledge and agricultural roots, while the groom’s kin provided the protection and the fresh, robust social structure of the comitatus (warband).

Robin Fleming argues that we should look less at "tribes" and more at the re-ordering of daily life. In such a household, the material culture would have become a "creole" of traditions. The bride might have continued to wear a sub-Roman tunic and perhaps a small, hidden lead cross, while her husband displayed the cruciform brooches and great-square-headed fasteners of his Anglian heritage. Their children would grow up in a world where the distinction between "Roman" and "Angle" was increasingly blurred. They might speak a Germanic tongue to their father and a Latinate-influenced Brittonic to their mother, eventually forging the early Old English language.

This "admixing" was the true crucible of the English identity. It was a process of bricolage, where people took the shattered pieces of the Roman past and the raw materials of the Germanic present to build something entirely new. By 500 CE, the Tas Valley was no longer a Roman territory under occupation, nor was it a purely Germanic colony; it had become a frontier zone where the "Roman" was being slowly digested by the "English," creating a society that was tougher, more localized, and ultimately more resilient than the imperial system it replaced.

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

I have uncovered a fascinating narrative within my mitochondrial DNA. FamilyTreeDNA has assigned me to Haplogroup H6a1a8, and my mutation list provides a clear map of the maternal journey from the original 'Clan Mother'.

The Genetic Path

My lineage is first defined as part of the wider 'H' clan via key markers such as G2706A. The path narrows into the H6 branch, confirmed by a specific set of coding region markers: A1018G, T3594C, A4727G, and T8655C. The descent continues through H6a (C2885T) and into H6a1, identified in my HVR1 results by the T16298C marker.

The most distinctive feature of my profile—and the key to the F8693412 cluster—is a rare "reversion". While H6a1a8 is typically defined by a mutation at position 3915 (where Adenine changed to Guanine), my results show G3915A. This indicates that my specific maternal line underwent a back-mutation, returning to the ancestral Adenine. This reversion acts as a unique genetic signature, distinguishing my line from the standard H6a1a8 profile and marking my place within the F8693412 cluster.

A Shift in Perspective

This cluster represents relatively new evidence that was unavailable when I first took the mtDNA Full Sequence test. It has fundamentally changed my perspective on my maternal origins. While the standard matching system measures "genetic distance," a private variant like F8693412 can reveal deeper, more specific connections. By filtering my matches to include only those who share this variant, I have found a cohort of nine testers.

This discovery has led to a moment of "enlightenment." It is tempting to view haplogroups as monolithic waves of migration, but the reality is more nuanced. When did the H6a1a8 ancestor arrive in Britain? The presence of different private variants suggests multiple arrivals over many centuries. Some may be ancient; for instance, two H6a1a8 samples excavated in North Berwick, Scotland, date to between 196 BCE and 117 CE. However, others likely represent much more recent migrations.

Many possibilities

From East Anglia to the Continent

Of my nine genetic "cousins," only three of us can trace our maternal lines back to Europe: specifically to East Anglia, Ireland, and Austria. Upon closer inspection, the Irish link appears to be a "red herring"—the ancestor had a Northern English surname and died in England, suggesting "Plantationist" roots rather than a deep Irish origin. This leaves a striking link between England and Austria.

My own earliest recorded maternal ancestor is Anne Carter, born in Carleton Rode, Norfolk, in 1661. Her family appears to have been of "middling" status—likely local yeomanry—evidenced by her ability to marry by licence in a Norwich city church in 1684. The lineage remained endogamous within that parish for several generations, suggesting the DNA had been rooted in Norfolk long before the seventeenth century.

The Anglo-Saxon Hypothesis

A 2022 study in Nature (Gretzinger et al.) revolutionised our understanding of early medieval migration, suggesting that in Eastern England—particularly South Norfolk—roughly 75% of the population was of Continental Northern European (CNE) ancestry. These families migrated from the Netherlands, Germany, and Denmark.

Consequently, I am revising my hypothesis. My mtDNA haplotype (H6a1a8 - F8693412) likely represents a matrilineal heritage that arrived during the early medieval period—part of the Great Migration of Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-Danish peoples between the Late Romano-British and Viking eras. This represents a significant shift in the predicted path of my maternal line, and I shall be amending my records accordingly.

Perhaps an mtDNA ancestor and her daughter, recently arrived from across the North Sea at the ruined walls of Venta Icenorum?

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

Korean War Gallery 1 of 6. AI restoration and colourisation of b/w negative scans by Google Gemini. Royal Norfolk Regiment. 1951-1952 Korea and Hong Kong Tour. Although Ray had the negatives, and perhaps the camera, you can see him on many of these images.

My Uncle Ray Brooker was a quiet, withdrawn man—a loner. That is how I remember him. Yet, beneath that reserve, he was remarkably gentle. I still recall him showing me wild mice he had tamed, kept safely inside his rabbit shed.

What shaped his solitary nature? Family lore always pointed to one defining chapter: the Korean War, often called the "Forgotten War".

Following Ray’s death, I was given a box of medium-format (120/620) film negatives. I scanned them, meticulously cleaning away decades of dust and scratches. What emerged was a vivid photographic record of his time as a National Serviceman in Korea and Hong Kong between 1951 and 1952.

To honour his journey, I have used Google Gemini AI to bring these images further to life—restoring and colourising them to bridge the gap between the past and the present. May their sacrifice never be forgotten.

This will be the first of six galleries sharing these images. They are AI, but only used to restore and to colourise. To help bring this back to life.

This evocative image shows my uncle, Ray Brooker, serving with the Royal Norfolk Regiment during the height of the Korean War, circa 1951–52. At a time when many young men were called up for National Service, Ray found himself thousands of miles from the familiar flat horizons of East Anglia, stationed in the rugged, often punishing terrain of the Korean Peninsula.

​In the photo, Ray is pictured in his combat fatigues, wearing the distinctive woollen pullover and a side cap. He is holding a Bren light machine gun, the iconic workhorse of the British infantry. The Bren was famously reliable and accurate, though at nearly 23 lbs (over 10 kg), it was a heavy burden to carry across the steep Korean ridgelines. You can see his 1937-pattern webbing pouches, likely packed with the 30-round curved magazines for the Bren, and a collection of mortar or ammunition canisters lined up in the dirt behind him.

​The Royal Norfolk Regiment (specifically the 1st Battalion) played a significant role in the conflict, arriving in Korea in 1951 as part of the 29th British Independent Infantry Brigade. They faced a landscape of extremes—sweltering, humid summers followed by Siberian-level winters where temperatures could drop to -30°C. This photograph seems to capture a drier, perhaps more temperate spell, showing a moment of respite in what was a brutal war of attrition.

​For a young man from East Dereham, the transition from civilian life to the front lines of the "Forgotten War" must have been a profound experience. This image serves as a poignant record of that journey, documenting a generation of East Anglians who served in a distant conflict that helped shape the modern world.

The View from the Ridge

​In this shot, Ray is seen in a prone firing position with the Bren gun, set against the dramatic, undulating mountain backdrop that defined the Korean theatre of operations. Unlike the previous image, he is wearing a dark beret featuring the Royal Norfolk Regiment cap badge (the figure of Britannia), which was standard headgear for the infantry when not in full combat dress or using the "soft" side cap.

​The image highlights several key aspects of a National Service soldier's life in 1951:

• ​The Terrain: The sharp peaks in the distance illustrate why the Korean War was often called a "mountain war." For the Norfolks, moving heavy equipment like the Bren gun and the large "small pack" seen on Ray's back across this vertical terrain was a constant physical challenge.

• ​The Bren in Action: Positioned on its integral bipod, the Bren was the heart of the British infantry section. This angle clearly shows the top-mounted magazine, designed this way so that gravity would assist the feeding of ammunition, making it less prone to jamming in the dusty conditions of the Korean hills.

• ​Field Gear: Ray is wearing the heavy woollen battle dress, essential for the unpredictable climate. The large pack on his back would contain his essentials: a groundsheet, mess tins, and personal rations—everything needed to survive on a remote outpost.​

​In this shot, the rugged peaks of the Korean interior have been replaced by the salt air and white railings of the HMT Dilwara. Ray is pictured on deck, finally heading homeward after his tour of duty. The Dilwara was a well-known troopship of the era, and for many National Service men, the sight of her white hull was the first real sign that their time in the "Forgotten War" was drawing to a close.

​The photo offers a clear view of the Royal Norfolk shoulder titles on his battledress, a proud reminder of his unit as he prepared to return to civilian life. Sitting by the ship's lifeboats, Ray looks remarkably relaxed compared to the intensity of the frontline images. It’s a moment that captures the collective exhale of breath felt by thousands of young men as they began the month-long voyage back to the UK.

​Leaving the theatre of war behind, the Dilwara would have taken them through the Suez Canal, a journey that offered a starkly different world to the one they had just left. This image serves as the perfect "curtain call" for this chapter of Ray's service—the transition from a soldier in a distant land back to the Norfolk man returning to his roots.

A World Away from the Front Line

​This image provides a glimpse of the cultural landscape that surrounded the conflict. For soldiers stationed in the region, scenes like this were a reminder of the ancient traditions continuing despite the modern upheaval of the war.

• ​The Vessel: The junk is a masterpiece of traditional design, perfectly suited for navigating the coastal waters of the East. The warm, reddish hue of the sails provides a sharp contrast to the deep blues and greens of the water and mountains.

• ​The Setting: The scale of the mountains in the background emphasizes the geographical isolation of many of the areas where the Norfolks served. It’s a quiet, atmospheric shot that likely represents a moment of observation from a troopship or a coastal observation post.

• ​The Narrative: In the context of the blog, this photo serves as a "scenic interlude." It illustrates the "traveller" aspect of the journey—showing that while Ray was there as a soldier, he was also a young man witnessing a part of the world that was, at the time, incredibly remote and exotic to someone from Norfolk.

The Ground Beneath His Feet

​While the earlier photos show the tools of the infantryman’s trade, this image captures the back-breaking labour that occupied much of a soldier's time. A soldier is pictured mid-swing with a pickaxe, working on the excavation of a trench or a "basho" (a dugout shelter).

​In the mountainous and rocky terrain of Korea, establishing a defensive position was an arduous task. Because the war had settled into a static phase of "hill-hopping" by 1951, the ability to dig deep was often the difference between safety and exposure. The dry, dusty earth seen here would have turned into a treacherous slurry of mud during the monsoon season, making maintenance of these positions a never-ending job.

A Royal Norfolk is seen here in his shirt sleeves, likely during the heat of the day, yet still wearing his beret—a small but telling detail of military discipline even during manual labour. This image provides a grounded, human counterpoint to the more formal portraits, illustrating that for a Norfolk man in Korea, the war was as much about the pick and shovel as it was the rifle.

Moments of Levity

​In a stark contrast to the grit of the trenches or the weight of the Bren gun, this image reveals the "human" side of National Service. Ray is seen here demonstrating a surprising bit of physical flexibility, likely during a period of rest or while stationed at a rear-echelon camp.

​These moments of "clowning around" were vital for maintaining morale. For young men far from home, humour and personal antics were the primary ways to blow off steam and manage the psychological pressures of the campaign. The presence of the "FIRE" bucket in the background suggest this was a structured camp environment, perhaps a barracks or a transit station where soldiers had a rare bit of free time to themselves.

​Even in his gym kit—short socks and plimsolls—the tidy haircut and the presence of other soldiers in the periphery remind us that this was still a military environment. It’s a wonderful addition to the blog, showing that Ray wasn't just a soldier in a uniform, but a young man with a sense of fun, making the most of a world that was vastly different from the quiet villages of East Anglia.

This is Gallery 1 of 6.

GO NEXT TO KOREA ROYAL NORFOLK REGIMENT PHOTO GALLERY 2

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

The Norfolk Portraits

1932: The Wedding of Ernest and Ivy This image is an AI restoration and colouring of a 1932 wedding photo capturing the marriage of my grandparents, Ernest William Curtis and Ivy Maud Tovell, at Limpenhoe, Norfolk. This project tracks the direct matrilineal line, represented here by the bride and her mother, Caroline Tammas-Tovell, who is seated beside her.

I have mapped a hypothesis of the route my mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) has taken over approximately 1,000 generations. This journey commenced with the emergence of "Helena" 25,000 years ago in the Levant and concludes with my mother in a Norfolk village.

A Childhood Snapshot This is an AI restoration of a snapshot of my mother as a young girl, being "forced" to pose with a kitten by her brother, Dennis.

The Biological Engine: A Story of Fluke and Resilience

Mitochondria are a story of fluke and resilience. Billions of years ago, they were likely independent bacteria. At some point, they were engulfed by a larger cell but escaped digestion; instead, they formed a symbiotic partnership. The mitochondria provided energy, and the larger cell provided protection. They became the power plants located inside almost every cell of our bodies. Just as a city needs electricity to keep the lights on, our cells need a specific kind of "chemical energy" to keep us breathing, moving, and thinking.

Because they reside in the cytoplasm, outside of the central nucleus, they contain their own autonomous DNA. It is the mutations or variants on that mtDNA (in my case, Haplogroup H6a1a8) that I have been following. For geneticists, mtDNA acts as a vital marker; we can date variants and pinpoint their emergence to a specific time and geographic location. It is uniquely useful because, unlike nuclear DNA, it does not recombine or "shuffle" with each generation. Rather, it follows a strict line of descent. Traced backwards, it follows my mother, her mother, and her mother before her—along that unbroken matrilineage, all the way back to "Mitochondrial Eve".

A Legacy of Resilience: The Cache County Study

For students of Integrated Ancestral Studies (IAS), however, this is more than just a marker. It appears that those of us carrying H6a1a, H6a1b, or their descendant "daughter" lineages (such as H6a1a8) may have inherited a significant biological advantage.

The Cache County Study on Memory in Aging—a long-term investigation involving over 1,000 residents of northern Utah—sought to understand why Alzheimer’s disease (AD) clusters in families and why there is a notable "maternal effect." Researchers discovered that individuals belonging to the H6a1a and H6a1b sub-branches of the Helena lineage had a significantly reduced risk of developing Alzheimer’s.

While the exact biological mechanism is still being researched, the findings suggest that these specific mitochondrial lineages are more "resilient" to the ageing process. Their variants are located in genes responsible for the electron transport chain—the machinery that generates cellular energy. For this project, it adds a profound layer of meaning: the route this DNA took over 1,000 generations isn't just a map of migration, but a 25,000-year-old legacy of cognitive resilience. This may explain why Alzheimer’s has plagued my paternal line, yet remained notably absent from my maternal family.

The Journey of the Matrilineage

Matrilineal Staying Power From the perspective of human population genetics, I have noted the remarkable resilience and "staying power" of women across prehistoric societies. Men come and go, but the mtDNA remains. Consequently, Europe has become a broad matrix of diverse mtDNA haplogroups, while a relatively small number of Y-DNA haplogroups dominate. Warriors arrive and are later vanquished, but those who actually till the soil and produce often remain as the enduring genetic background.

The Norfolk Thread Records show that my matrilineage has been incredibly localised in south and east Norfolk since at least 1661 CE. I find it highly probable that the line was present there during the Late Medieval period, and I have further postulated that it may have lingered in this area as far back as the Iron Age. While these theories are based on rational conjecture—factual certainty only begins with that 1661 baptism—the proposed 25,000-year route suggests many instances of "settling" for centuries or even millennia. I view mtDNA as a genetic thread that weaves different cultures together.

H6a1a8: An Iron Age Haplogroup Throughout this journey, I have associated H6a1a8 specifically with the Western and Central European Iron Age. The clues exist in ancient DNA samples found in North Berwick, Scotland, and in its modern distribution. I hypothesise that my matrilineage likely entered the British Isles following the Late Bronze Age migration events from the south, but prior to the Anglo-Saxon "North Sea Migration Continuum."

Admittedly, I may be simplifying these movements. The journey may not have always been a linear "westward" trek from the Volga; the reality is likely far more complex. What I have attempted is to narrate a believable route through 25,000 years, acknowledging that many alternatives may exist.

Closing Log

I hope that someone finds the Ovum series useful, today or tomorrow. This is the personal journal of a Time Traveller left open.

To follow: 

an index bringing together Ovum (my mtDNA narrative) and Odyssey of Y (my Y-DNA narrative). From there, I shall move on to other subjects within Integrated Ancestral Studies, including:

• Restored and colourised photos of my late uncle's Korean War tour. The 1951/2 Royal Norfolk Regiment in colour. National Servicemen in action.

• Viscount Melbourne as Home Secretary personally petitioning for the release of my swing rioter ancestor. The incredible pardon from transportation by the man who a few years later transported the Tolpuddle Martyrs. By his whim alone do I exist today.

• AI for time travel. Strengths and weaknesses.

• Reflections on a forty-year journey through the tracing of ancestors.

• My 18 year old Boer War veteran ancestor of the 9th Foot.

• A fresh look at my late father's metal detector finds from Norfolk, and what they suggest about the boulder-clays of the East Anglian Plateau.

• Identifying struck flint and prehistoric stone tools

• Idyllea: Revisit my adventure tale of three siblings at the close of the Mesolithic period.

• Local history, archaeology, genealogy, genetics, prehistory and more.

If anyone finds these logs one day, then enjoy.

GO TO THE NEXT ACT - Ovum Postscript

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

This is an AI restoration of a photograph of my great-great-grandmother, Sarah Ann Thacker (née Daynes), sitting with my great-great-grandfather, George Thacker. Sarah was born in 1849 at Besthorpe, Norfolk, close to where her ancestors had long resided in Carleton Rode and Bunwell.

The grandeur of this studio portrait is somewhat misleading. Since the time of her own great-great-grandmother in the late 17th and early 18th centuries, the carriers of our H6a1a8 mtDNA matrilineage had suffered a marked decline in economic and social status. This decline was mirrored across my entire family tree between the 1770s and the 1870s. Parliamentary enclosure, the New Poor Laws, and the exploitation of the North American plains and Russian steppes squeezed these descendants of the medieval period. They were transformed from free tenants, yeomanry, and copyholders into the impoverished ranks of 19th-century agricultural labourers. In the process, they lost their ancient ties to the land and were forced to avoid the workhouse by selling their labour to the few who retained ownership.

These were harsh times, and they were not always accepted passively. Some of my non-mtDNA ancestors were involved in the 1830 Swing Riots. Others ended up in Union workhouses or prisons, while many emigrated to northern cities (frequently Hull), moved to London, or headed abroad. The story of my East Anglian ancestry, including my mtDNA matrilineage, is one of resilience and fortitude. We are descended from the small minority who stayed put.

This is an AI restoration of a photograph of my great-great-grandmother in her later years. I imagine the cottage behind her was at Green Lane Farm, Rackheath, Norfolk.

Impoverishment had stimulated movement. Sarah married George Thacker, who lived in Rackheath—a rural Norfolk parish on the opposite side of Norwich—and moved there to join him. For many years, they lived at Green Lane, where they raised no fewer than ten children between 1871 and 1893.

A somewhat cruel story is attached to Sarah’s memory. Family folklore suggests she was a strict disciplinarian. It is said that when she had to leave the children unattended, she would tie them to chairs with strands of cotton. Upon her return, if the threads were broken, she would physically punish them. "Granny Thacker by name, thacker [to hit] by nature," goes the family saying.

She passed her mtDNA down to my great-grandmother, born in 1878 and named Drusilla Caroline Thacker.

This is another AI restoration; from my own memory, I remember that face well. This is Caroline (who preferred it to Drusilla)—Caroline Tammas-Tovell by nature. I have had Gemini place her in front of Southwood Hall Farm, Southwood, Norfolk, because once again the matrilineage moves across the county—this time to the loamy soils of East Norfolk. There, she married into a rural, working-class family whose roots had been established on the edge of the Halvergate Marshes and along the River Yare for several centuries.

As I mentioned, I knew my great-grandmother before she passed away in 1971. I would meet her at my grandmother’s house; as a child, I was in awe of the fact that she had grown up in the age of Queen Victoria. It felt like an early taste of time travel. She would pay me a pre-decimal sixpence to kiss her. Strangely, I can still recall her voice.

My own mother grew up in the Southwood and Hassingham area of East Norfolk, where, in time, she met my father, who hailed from East Dereham in Mid Norfolk. This brings me to the end of my "Ovum tales" of mitochondrial ancestry: from Helena in the Levant, 25,000 years ago, to Norwich, Norfolk, sixty years ago—and onward through the younger generations. The "Selfish Gene" continues its long story.

GO TO THE NEXT ACT - Finale. Weaving it together

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index

It is now 26 December 1661, the date of the baptism of my eight-times great-grandmother, Anne Carter, at All Saints, Carleton Rode, Norfolk. Although the images in this post are AI-generated, the records themselves are authentic. With this entry, our mitochondrial DNA H6a1a8 trail officially enters my recorded genealogy.

As can be deciphered in the Carleton Rode baptism register shown above, her father was named Richard Carter. In keeping with the social conventions of the time, the family was not regarded as prominent enough for the cleric to record the name of her mother.

Anne (or Ann) Carter married Robert Smith of Carleton Rode, Norfolk, on 26 May 1683. The ceremony did not take place at their local parish church; instead, they obtained a licence and travelled 15 miles to be married at St Stephen’s in the city of Norwich.

The use of a marriage licence and the journey to a prestigious city church suggest a "middling sort" status. Her family likely possessed the financial means and social literacy required to navigate legal systems beyond the village level. Despite the rise of religious Dissent in the area, Anne's consistent presence in the parish registers suggests Conformist Anglicanism. She probably valued the legal and social security provided by Church of England registration. Consequently, it is highly likely that Robert and Anne Smith (née Carter) belonged to the 17th-century yeomanry, consisting of freeholders or prosperous tenant farmers.

The couple raised five daughters in Carleton Rode: Climence (1684), Anne (1686), Dorothy (1690), Thomazin (1692), and Elizabeth (1695). As there are no surviving records of sons, it appears the Smith household was predominantly female.

Anne lived in the shadow of England’s second-greatest city. While she remained in a rural setting, her economic life was tethered to the global success of Norwich’s worsted weaving industry. She witnessed the transition of these villages from isolated hamlets into productive spokes of an early industrial wheel.

Born shortly after the Restoration of the Monarchy (1660) and dying just before the Union of Great Britain (1707), her life spanned the period known as the "Great Stabilisation". Following the upheaval of the Civil War—which her father survived—her era was defined by the rebuilding of traditional structures, such as the Church of England and the local parish vestry.

Anne’s physical world was significantly colder than our own. She lived through the Maunder Minimum, a period of exceptionally harsh winters and erratic harvests. This environmental stress made the "heavy lands"—the dense clay soils of South Norfolk—particularly difficult to farm and navigate. Such conditions likely contributed to the health challenges that led to her death at the age of 44.

Her daughter, Anne Smith, was baptized on 10 March 1687 at All Saints, Carleton Rode, Norfolk. As my 7th great-grandmother, she carried the mtDNA haplogroup H6a1a8, marking a vital link in the maternal line from antiquity to the written record. At age 19, she married John Brighting (also recorded as Briting) on 12 December 1705 at Carleton Rode.

​Yet, before she was laid to rest, the ancestral chain remained unbroken. She passed our mtDNA H6a1a8 to her daughter, Susanna Briting (baptized at Carleton Rode in 1722), ensuring the 'Helena' lineage survived the hardships of 18th-century Norfolk to reach the present day.

GO TO THE NEXT ACT - The Agricultural labourers of 19th century East Norfolk. 1849 CE

Back to the Future: Time Travel and Haplogroup Index