Last night for the first time in months I realised that I was well and truly hooked on family history again.
As the clock on my computer ticked ever nearer to midnight I realised that it was long past by bedtime and I really ought to be getting to bed, but what I was working on was far too interesting and exciting to put down.
I had forgotten the thrill that comes when everything seems to come together and suddenly something that had been puzzling me for months made perfect sense.
It was a wedding photo that had been the focus of my attention, somehow linked in with my grandmother and the search for her adopted sister Minnie.
As I stared at the photo it dawned on me that my grandmother could be the young girl in the wedding group and a few searches later things started to come together.
I have no photo of my grandmother at that age, but the more I stared at that photo the more certain I became. More importantly I now know who the bride and groom where, and how they were connected to Minnie and my grandmother.
But that is jumping ahead, last night everything just seemed to come together, and perhaps more important than the discovery of the identity of the people in the photo was the discovery that I still love family history.