I've been playing with loads of geneology websites recently. My Great-great-grandfather ran off to America (possibly with some of his wife's dowry - which was prodigious) & mum likes to tease her morally upright sister that we have loads of extra cousins. Anyway, this meant I got to see our family tree for the first time in years.

Our family tree was written just after my Grandmother died, when I was almost three. I had no idea what was going on, & mum had no time to tell me as she tends to be 'take charge person' in family matters. My dad has no idea how to cope with small children & so left me in the care of Uncle Mickey when I asked where Granny was.

Uncle Mickey is a pathological liar. No one actually knows what he told me, & I can't remember. It could have been misinterpretation. But for several years afterward I was convinced that my Grandparents were astronauts. Real, proper astronauts. Like you saw on the news sometimes.

Until the day Sister Rose found out. With Uncle Mickey in the room. She threw a book at his head, thus becoming my favouritist grownup evar. I have promised to name one of my children after her. She is such a good shot. It's the volleyball that does it, I'm sure.

The legacy of this lives on in our family tree. Pencilled in at the bottom are the words 'Tracey's grandfather is in space.'