Here's A Piece Of My Mind

So to speak. A piece of me anyway, scraped off my cheek with a rather severe-looking swab with a serrated edge. Nothing very swabby about it, and it's not like the cop shows on TV. You're supposed to scrape away for a full minute. The thing was distinctly red when I'd finished. Then, following the instructions, I opened one of the little phials (pictured above), dunked the swab-end of the thin plastic popsicle-stick while pressing on the other end with my thumb (it's a kind of syringe, a stick within a stick) and sure enough the swab popped off, safe in its preserving fluid. I did this three times (an hour before eating or three hours afterwards) and now the precious little messages in micro-bottles are on their way to 'Family Tree DNA' in the US, the largest archive of DNA in the world, apparently. Finally, I have found a way to (possibly, hopefully) learn something about the genetic ancestry on my father's side, as he is a complete unknown quantity (and quality), an absolute mystery, the man who wasn't there, and in fact has never had any idea that I, his son, occupy the same universe. All I know is that he was a Canadian Private (attached to the Medical Corps) when my mother met him at his camp in 1956 (she worked for the CWA: Catholic Women's Association). She never told him she was pregnant and I was born in London nine months later. In the unlikely even that you may wish to know more, check this link: Fatherfinder.