ABSTRACT
I grew up in a very untidy family. My mother often apologised for the mess she would be leaving after her death, so my brother Peter and I knew there would be a lot to clear up. But we had no idea we would find so many boxes and envelopes full of papers and photographs. They were in sideboards and cupboards, in the loft and in the garage. Some were simply stuffed at the back of drawers. There were personal and official letters, unfinished drafts and carbon copies, legal documents, bills, receipts, and my father’s childhood poems. They span more than 80 years from my grandmother Ester’s student records in the early 1900s to post-war restitution claims, which continue until 1982. These papers constitute the ‘personal archive’ at the centre of my research and of this article.
