A taxing history

So..... I always wonder how long I need to hang on to tax documents, receipts etc. I can't imagine that I will ever earn enough to gain the attention of the inland revenue/tax department and for them to audit me. But just in case.... I will hang on to the $2 receipt from buying a pink ribbon as well as my income statement. You just never know.....

It runs in the family, this need for saving documents just in case.

Just look here..... my gggg-grandfather's tax receipt book starting 226 yrs ago:

 And then his son's, my 3g grandfather, Peder Berg's tax receipt book:

My gg grandfather's brother, Edward Laache contributed greatly to the document files,

here is his tax bill:

Along with the tax documentation I also found a treasure trove of receipts that has given me a little insight into his lifestyle like this receipt from a grocer. Edvard must have been stocking up for the Christmas celebrations and it is a rather extensive list of alcohol. I wonder what he would make of my teetotalling ways?

A couple of decades later he appears to have been hospitalised at Oslo's "Rikshospital" for 152 days and had to pay a princely sum for his stay and his bandages:

I bet my ancestors never thought of their paperwork being studied and treasured by their descendants! I am fascinated that these receipts have been passed down through the generations and I feel a little like the curator of my family's history. There must be a way to keep these old documents in order to preserve them still, I have yet to decide how.

 It does make me wonder about what I might leave behind and what my descendants will make of me from what they find. Will they find my receipts from Woolworths or Costco exciting? Will they marvel at our large consumption of Nutella and Jarlsberg cheese?

Making hay while the sun shines...

Every summer we would visit my father's parents on their farm "Indergård" at Batnfjordsøra on the northern part of Norway's west coast. Farfar and Farmor had a small farm with horses, sheep and chickens. I can't remember cows, but I am sure they were there. Farfar bred fjord horses, and this one was called Topsy. She was my favourite

I remember this summer day when the hay was being brought into the barn from the fields. My brother and I  had to help. Our job was to stay in the haycart and as the hay was loaded into it by the grown ups, we would flatten it to make room for more. When the cart was full we would steer Topsy back to the barn feeling ever so clever....  Little did we know that Topsy just needed starting off and she would faithfully walk back to the barn. 

The day this photo was taken I had been asked if I wanted to ride Topsy down to the field. I think I was having a strop about something, so I rather petulantly said "no!" and that I didn't want to go. "Ok" said my dad, and they all started down the road to the field. I changed my mind and started crying. Howling, probably....

My dad came up the hill and picked me up. I was quite convinced I had been abandoned, and was so happy he came back for me. I didn't get to ride Topsy on the way down, but on the way back I sat there and reigned supreme (or should that be 'reined'?....)

I can still imagine the smell and feel of the hay and remember Topsy. I hope she is in a happy place with all the apples she can eat :)