Most of us have a black sheep in the family. In my case it was a sheep stealer. When I was dating my husband, I used to joke how different our backgrounds were. I would say that my wanderlust probably originated in being part Viking, part sheep rustler. As they say, many a true word…….
In an idle moment on the web, I put in the name of one of our relatives, about 5 generations back. The name is unusual, and I sort of knew what I was looking for.
I found George on board a ship bound for W. Australia in 1854. He’d been given 10 years for stealing sheep. I believe this was the relative who died a very wealthy Australian.
My arrival in the antipodes was legal and without chains, but so far there’s no sign of fame and fortune. Perhaps, however, there is some poetry in the fact that I landed up in a country famous for sheep.
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