Schooldays

I was one of those children who loved school when I was younger. From starting in the infants at George Tomlinson School until the day I left the Juniors in the Summer of 1966, my schooldays were one of the best times of my life.

I was lucky to be a child who loved learning, and I had people in my life who also cherished it. My mother had won a scholarship to the Blue Coat School when she was younger but had been unable to accept as her parents could not afford the uniforms and other necessities. My nan had fostered in me a love of history and art, and spoke a lot about the differences when she was a child. A steady stream of Ladybird Books and I-Spy booklets throughout my younger years helped keep me occupied as well as providing additional learning materials. That these are still available today, some 50 odd years after I was an avid fan, is testimony to the fact that they are fun and kids love them still!



Miss Lynes Class, either 1964-1965 or 1965-1966.

Front Row (from left): ?, ?, Ian Burns, Robert Dear, Keith Waite, ?, Saeed Sharif;
2nd Row:Sarah?, Joyce Carne, Elaine O'Dell, Janet Baxter, ?, Jane Barlow, Anne Gage, Katie Beinder, ?, Stephanie Baum:
3rd Row: ?, Jacqueline Austin, Margaret O'Connor, Rosemary Lammas, Alison Tidy, me, Toulla Karlettis, Shan Fisher, Trevor Stannard:
4th Row: Steven Hicks, ?, Alan, Philip, ?, ?, Stephen Gross, ?, ?, John Byrne.
If anyone can give me the names of the other pupils, please email me at:

rosesavonshoppe@aol.com

I only had 2 teachers in the 4 years that I was in the Junior School. The first 2 years, I was in Mrs Stark's class, and the last 2, Miss Lynes. In the infants school, I believe my first teacher was Miss Martin, and then I was in Mrs Isaacs class. I remember for the first couple of weeks, sitting on the teacher's lap during story time (just before the end of the day). The parents would start congregating outside, and I'd see my mum with the big maroon Royale coach-built pram, out there and start to bawl. I was a bit of a cry-baby, I suppose.

One of my worst memories of the infants school was one of the dinner ladies, Mrs Girling, and I think she hated me from the beginning. I was a picky eater, did not like milk or custards, rice puddings, anything made with milk. My mum even sent a note to say that I didn't like them. Mrs Girling would swamp my dessert with custard or blancmange, and for a few times would force me to eat it. Until the day that I was really sick and vomited everywhere. After that, she never did it again, but always gave me this evil look as though it was my fault and not her spitefulness that had caused the incident.

The Headmistress in the Infants School was a Mrs Edwards, and she was a darling. Always had a hand available to hold, or a lap to sit on. Smiles for everyone. She retired from George Tomlinson, after I went "up" into the Juniors. We really did go "up" as the Infants had the bottom floor of the school buildings and the Juniors had the top. Each had its own playground area, the Infants had a Jungle Gym while the Juniors had a football pitch and netball court marked out on the playground surface.

Some of the games we used to play are in a book called Playground Games . A couple of the ball games, my nieces were playing only 2 years ago, like "Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear, Touch the Ground". It was amazing hearing these (very modern and sophisticated) little girls playing a game that I had played when I was their age. I remember "Colours", "Letters", "Stones", "Jacks", "Peep Behind the Curtain", "Queenie, Queenie, Who's Got The Ball?" and even playing "Whose Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" up until I was about 10 years old. How many of today's ten year olds would even play innocent games like that now? Everything is electronic games, video games and CD-Rom's. They are so grown up now, at such early ages.

Mrs Stark didn't care much for me , but I still flourished under her tutelage.I was one of those kids you could give a book to and I'd get my nose lost into it. I loved to write stories, and filled those little red journal books with all manner of tales of Victorian life and all sorts. It was my love of books that got me into BIG trouble! In those days, the class used to be taken to the Leytonstone library for weekly visits and children with a library card were allowed to get books out of the library. Unfortunately, my mother refused to sign the application for me to get a library card. This because, in case of infectious diseases like measles, chicken pox, whooping cough and stuff, back then, if an infectious disease happened in a household, any library books had to be sent to a special place to be sterilized before being put back on the shelf. Well, my mother wanted none of that hassle, so she said I couldn't have a library card. Now, to a child who loves to read, this was like a death sentence. But, if your parents wouldn't sign, the teacher could (with the parents permission and on behalf of the parents) but the books would have to stay at school. My mind worked overtime all that week, but come the final day to hand the cards back in and I was in a panic, so I signed it myself, with my mother's name. I was about 8, but like my granddaughter, Angelica, had pretty good handwriting for a child.Everything was fine, and I began to get books from the library on the weekly class visits, until the day that I got found out! My sister, Therésa, went down with whooping cough, and I can remember us all being traipsed to Dr Mahood's surgery at the top of our street, Queen's Road, and having to suffer the indignities of dropping our drawers and getting whooping cough jabs in our bums. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, the school was notified of whooping cough in the family ... and a letter came for my mum advising her of the procedure for getting library books sterilized. She asked me what they were talking about, and I LIED and said Mrs Stark had signed the card. This has to be why I don't tell lies now, because instead of making everything better, it created a worse mess. My mother , apparently, called the school and let rip at Mrs Stark, who had no idea what she was talking about. Mrs Stark then asked me , and I had to admit that it was indeed I who had signed the application card. In all fairness, she did not get mad at me. "Rosemary, "she said, "you need to go home and tell your mother that it was you who signed that card." That evening, I made myself ill with worry as to how to own up to the truth. Finally, while my mum was ironing the washing, I told her. She sent me to bed with "Wait until your father get's home!" ringing in my ears. This really hurt as I was such a little goody goody usually, but more to the point because beloved library ticket had gone to the land of the never to be seen again, and because to me this was the absolute worst thing that could happen. Every class trip to the library after that was a constant reminder of the wrong I had done,and a punishment for me in that I could not take out books any longer.

First Memories

One Of My First Memories

One of the first memories that I have is of living at 47 Southern Drive, in Loughton (see picture). I was about 3 or 4 years old. Outside of my mum's bedroom window (on the pavement, near the kerb) there was a tree, and a bird had made its nest in there. There was a storm, and one of the baby birds fell out. I can remember my mum going outside and picking it up out of the puddle and bringing it into the house, carefully drying it off, and then carrying it against her chest for warmth and so that it could sense a heartbeat.

47 Southern Drive

I don't think it survived very long, but I have that memory indelibly etched in my mind. The house still looks very much the same as it did all those years ago. I think the tree was to the right of the upstairs window, so the shadow on the left of this picture would be from the same tree. This was kindly sent to me from the current owner of the house, in 1996. She remembered me as being "a bright little girl" and my sister being a baby in the pram.

My second memory was in the maisonette. I was staying with my nan and granpop while my mum was in hospital having my sister, Stephanie. I was four and a half years old. I remember I was lying in the (hearth) tiled bit of the fireplace (it was my favourite spot and my nan used to put me a pillow down there and a blanket to lie on). We were watching "Wagon Train" - one of my granpop's favourite shows at the time (thus by extension, my favourite show too!) when my dad arrived to tell us Stephanie had been born. Now I admit to being quite pleased to have a little sister - BUT THEY TURNED OFF "WAGON TRAIN". Surely nothing could merit such a thing! I remember being totally upset because of it.

Me, about 2 or 3.

 
I was about 3 years old when this was taken.

 
I was about 6 years old when this was taken.

Poyser name meaning and heraldry

From my grandmother, Rose Poyser's, side of the family

Poyser, Poyzer
Weigher, scale-maker. Superintendent of a public weighing machine (old French).
Name appears in Domesday Book, England 1086/1087.
Poyser family common in Staffordshire and Derbyshire

Blazon:  Asure, fess erminois between two lions passant and counterpassant, each crowned with an Eastern coronet. Trans: Blue, an ermine military belt or girdle of honour between two silver lions walking in opposite directions crowned with an Eastern coronet of gold. Azure: Blue. Signifying loyalty and truth. Erminois: Gold, with black spots. Signifying nobility. Coronet: Signifying victory in battle. Gold: Signifying generosity and elevation of mind. Stag: Shows centered on top of the coat of arms in the heraldry that I have, although not on this diagram. Signifying fleetness, longevity and sometimes seclusion. In rose, signifying military fortitude.

Poyser, PoyzerFamily motto: Grace me guide.

A beautiful Sunday

The weather today is gorgeous!

I had an AVON delivery to do today down in Hickory Tavern, so we were out and about in it. We stopped beforehand, for lunch, at Mei Mei House in Simpsonville, and stocked my brochure rack there. It was nice to be able to go in (with my walker) and chat to Maggie, they are like family.

The drive down was nice, there was next to no traffic, sun was shining, we had the windows open and the air just blew through;  it mussed my hair up a bit, but no worries!

Hope you are enjoying a lovely day.

Family History Frolics

I do love "doing" my family history, or rather, exploring the people who came before me and whose blood runs through my veins. I find it so interesting, the digging, and definitely frustrating at times, but when you get a breakthrough it's a big YAY!!!!! Just makes my day.

I have just sent off for 2 more death certificates, one is my great-grandmother, and the other is her mother. They are on my maternal grandfather's side of the family, his mother and his grandmother.

It is sad that I had no connection with my father, as I have started working on his side and have found out quite a bit about him from my sibling from his marriage, but because I didn't know him or his parents, the interest is somewhat less than it is for my mother's side, the grandparents who raised me when I was young, and whose stories I listened to growing up.

This is one of my favourite pictures of my granpop, Edward Lewis, as a young man, with his younger brother, George. Despite having had the photo for over 30 years, the identity of the younger person in the photo was only discovered last year. I had always thought my granpop was the youngest child.

His side of the family history has always been quite private so discovering a lot of it was quite difficult, added to which the last name, Lewis, and first names of the children, William, John, Edward, and Matilda, that I was searching for. Such common names at the beginning of the twentieth century, and worse, so many families within the same area!

What I have discovered on his side, has made me more aware of the genetic influence on my health.

He died of an aortic aneurysm in 1978. As yet, I have not been able to identify his father's death so know nothing about it. However, his mother's father, George Burton, died of "cerebral congestion, 8 days" which, on further research, seems to implicate high blood pressure/stroke.

Unfortunately, on my grandmother's side of the family (his wife, Rose nee Poyser),  she died in 1981 of a haemorrhagic stroke, her father Samuel Poyser died of a heart attack and her mother (Mary Ann nee Hunt) "suddenly at home" so it seems cardio-vascular stuff isn't good on her side, either.

And then, her mother's father, Charles Hunt, had bronchitis, asthma and heart failure.  He is the first (so far) that I have found with asthma, which my mother, my son, my granddaughter and myself, have all suffered from.

Having my DNA tested also provided interesting information on the possible origins of my blood type. I am O Negative, and that seems to be more prevalent in an area in the Iberian Peninsula than anywhere else in the world, cementing that with the DNA areas that make up my ancestral origins.

Likewise, my red hair. Despite me being English born (English through and through, as I thought) 39% of my DNA is Irish and only 28% is from Great Britain, the rest moves off to the East.  I've always said we English are a bunch of mongrels, we were conquered by so many, Danes, Vikings, Gauls, Romans, Goths and Visigoths, and more than I can remember. All of whom raped and pillaged as they went.

Other interesting things that have come to light concerning my hair and blood group - red headed people tend to bleed more easily (explaining my haemorrhage after having my son) and also can have issues with pain killing meds (as I have done) whereby the drugs that work on others make no difference to my pain (one of the reasons I now use essential oils). It was quite fascinating, answering unasked questions but putting many things to rest with an "ahhh ok".

I've been delving now for 23 years, and still so much more to discover.

Enjoy your day

No, I am NOT on a diet!

Yes, I am losing weight, but NO! I am not "on a diet" nor am I "dieting". I am however watching the foods that I eat, trying to keep them within certain dietary guidelines and making better choices.

By it's very statement "going on a diet" seems to imply that, once the goal is achieved, one can go "off the diet" at the end of it, which really isn't true. In my case weight loss, but for those suffering from the other issue of weight gain, is a process of undoing bad habits and gaining better ones, learning about your foods and what they do for your body, and making decisions based on that. The plan is to change your way of thinking as well as being more aware of what you are putting in your mouth.

People's dietary needs differ, there are so many variables, height, weight, activity for starters but then, also, dietary issues where maybe certain nutrients that are good for most aren't good for someone else (potassium, for instance) or where certain foods really must be limited because of underlying conditions (diabetes, for example). Each person has to get to know their body, get to know its needs, and then work with it for nourishment, whether to maintain weight and physique, build it or to lose weight and tone up.

This has been an eventful past 12 months for me.

Beginning in September of 2016, my health took a decided turn for the worse.

Now, to many, my health may have seemed bad to begin with. Arthritis and osteoporosis have resulted in limited mobility, meaning I was spending most of my time in my bed, and needing to be pushed in a wheelchair if I went anywhere. Around the house, I used a Zimmer frame for assistance, or to get from my bed to the bathroom, I sequenced grabbing my cupboard handle to help me get upright, then held onto my bookshelf, the door handle, the sink and finally the bathroom shelf, to make it. Coming back, there was kind of a long falling onto the bed from the bookshelf holding, LOL.

Hereditary high blood pressure and high cholesterol are dealt with (unfortunately) with a plethora of meds, as is my underactive thyroid, however as far as colds and opportunistic infections, my doctor has always been happy with how little I seemed to succumb to.

Up until last September my blood pressure had been under control for about 10 years.

I also have issues with drugs, my body doesn't like them, so my doctor and I have had to carefully get me to where I was at, and work with my tolerances. My doctor is a darling, and a year ago we were happily discussing how we might be able to cut my drugs and utilize more natural methods (she knows I prefer natural).

What happened was that the insurance decided they wanted to take me off Crestor and give me a generic ... which should have been ok ... but wasn't. I started having issues, and my doctor said it was medically necessary for me to go back to the name brand. I expected that to fix the problem ... it didn't. My blood pressure had soared sky high and my doctor upped my meds for that. Then I started getting the racing heartbeat, and palpitations. She took my meds back down and I ended up on a heart monitor. I am now under a cardiologist for A-Fib, and am on blood thinners.

In all of this, I really started pushing to find natural things to help the drugs do their work. I already ate low sodium, but I started trying to find ways to cut it even more. I love fruits and salad veggies, and upped them too but that then caused me a drastic lessening of kidney function (down to 37%) due to the potassium in fruits and veggies, so I also had to look into eating low potassium and keeping track of it.

For me, all of these things are important considerations when I am choosing and eating a food.

For someone else, the considerations will be different. We each have to get to know our bodies and work with them, to better our health.

I have gone from this:

To this:

and my journey is not over yet. I still have a long way to go, but I am taking it slowly, and things have changed.

I am so much more aware now of the content of foods and yes, I will have a cheeseburger sometimes, a plain one or a kids size fries with no salt but when people with me are wanting the big Macs or Whoppers fully loaded, I am soooo conscious of all the fat and salt they are consuming.

I still eat the foods I love, just don't want some of them any more and don't miss them. I've found substitutes. I still eat chocolate (I freeze minis and fun size Musketeers and stuff like that) and I manage to eat some of the fruits and veggies that I love by making sure that, for the rest of that day, I am eating maainly foods with no potassium in.

The thing is "dieting' does not work. You have to change your way of thinking and change your habits, because this change is going to be lifelong. t has to be permanent. If you go "on a diet" and then achieve your weight loss and go "off a diet" and start eating the way that you used to, the weight is going to go back on.

Have a great day, my friends

Silver Linings In The Clouds, And Other Thoughts

So many times "stuff happens" and things get stressful, but today everything just went perfectly, even the bits I was dreading, and those I hadn't even thought about!

Hubby had taken his bike to work, and left me the car as I needed to be somewhere with my granddaughter. With my walking being so bad, without my walker, I dreaded having to get out of the car, open the gate, get back in the car and drive through, then get back out of the car to close the gate. I dreaded it on 3 counts, obviously the pain I experience trying to walk unsupported, also the fear of falling and being unable to get up, but #1 was the dreaded fight to get out the gate without our goat Sadie deciding she was going out as well. I cannot chase her down any more, so I was stressed at the possibility of her getting out and me not being able to get her back in.

I gave her some sweet feed at my front door, and I guess I gave her enough, as I made it out the gate without her even coming up there.

At my granddaughter's appointment, the nurse let me hop on the scale, and DESPITE wearing heavier pants, plus shoes, I had lost 1.2lbs since my doctor appointment on September 21st. Thirteen days! WOOHOO! That was a nice surprise.

With my faithful rollator, I managed to walk fairly well down the hallways. My posture is terrible, as I cannot stand straight up any more, but at least the legs were doing what they were supposed to!

After leaving St Francis, I had a couple of errands to run. One was Publix in Mauldin. As I pulled into the parking lot, there were no handicapped spots open. In fact there were no spots open back around 7 or 8 cars back, next to the cart area. I was feeling optimistic, so I parked and tottered over to grab a cart and used it like a walker to head to the store. I did have some achy hip misgivings about half way, when the distance to go was beginning to feel like I'd over-estimated my ability but I tottered on and made it to where the ridearound carts were, and plopped into one, most wearily. I swear, you'd have thought I'd run a marathon or something. I was chuffing like the Little Engine That Could.

But hey, I did it. Definitely something to feel accomplished about!

That was a silver lining out of the cloud that had been no handicapped parking spots available.

It has definitely been a satisfying day, that's for sure.