Oh, and ravelyan, beware of 'family tree addiction'.   My father researched our tree out to the furthest branch, twig, twiglet and budding leaf.   My mother used to say that the only outings she went on were picnics in graveyards, while Dad roamed around jotting down names and details from  headstones.

I have 8 archive boxes full of his researches up in the top of a large wardrobe - photos, copies of photos, copies of birth certificates, copies of death certificates, clippings from newspapers, microfiche records,

typewritten notes, word processor notes, and handwritten notes filling them to overflowing.  It's a disease!  A disease, I tell you.  Run away!