Jöns carefully blotted the ink on the page. He liked to think that he took this type of care with all the entries in the Parish books but this one in particular was special. She married today , praise the lord, his youngest child and only daughter.
Jöns had been late to marry, a relatively old man at the age of thirty five, his chosen bride, a local woman Böel, not that many years younger . Five children had been born in quick succession and now all these years later, well, the boys could look after themselves, but it was a relief to know that Anna’s future was secure.
The church had been bursting, not surprising really, given his position in the village. Jöns had been Klockare (sacristan and clerk) of the parish for many years and as such, he and Böel had stood witness to countless births, deaths and marriages, the comings and goings of a small but busy rural village.
Satisfied that every last detail had been recorded, Jöns hefted the book back onto the shelf above the writing desk, unconscious to the excitement that would be generated, almost two hundred years later, when his direct ancestor would lay her eyes on his beautifully formed script.
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