Good God! Am I a Potts?

Here I was expecting to trace my way back to Scotland and find out about my clan and the colour of my tartan, even perhaps a coat of arms.

But Potts!

My spirits brightened as I started to try and find out about Mary Ann’s father, Thomas Potts.

There was a Thomas Potts, manager of Delaval Benwell Colliery, which was where they lived. If that was him then not so bad.

Then I spoke to my first wife, Valerie. Her parents lived in Northumberland just north of Newcastle and she and they knew the area well. Even knew Delaval.

Without giving her any information about my grandfather she said, ‘Did you know that in the 1870’s they brought in a lot of Spanish miners to work down the mines?’

My heart soared. He was born in 1872. Spanish blood?

Here I need to share a fact. My whole life I have always tanned easily. My father was the same. In fact school friends thought he was coloured (mind you he did spend three years in Africa during the war).

However it’s true. I just need a few days in the sun and I go brown. Having lived in Spain for almost twenty years I can be taken for a Spaniard, if I keep my mouth closed!

So is this the answer?

Some swarthy Spanish miner happened upon Mary Ann on a night out in Newcastle, seduced her, then left her with child and went back to Barcelona or Bilbao. And John Harvey Henderson happened along, accepted the little chap, and gave him his name.

Or was he always the dad and just took 20 months to marry her?

I decided to accept the latter, more remote alternative, and busily started to research great grandfather, John Harvey Henderson. But first what could I find out about Grandpa Henderson.

My other grandfather, James Bussicott, had also died before I was born.

Or so I thought until I was in my 40’s. A real family secret, and another story.