What Have I Learned About My Granpop's Side of the Family?

It had been difficult finding out about my grandfather's side of the family. Despite being raised by my grandparents until I was about 4, and spending school holidays with them until I was 11 or 12, I didn't recall seeing any of them except Tilly and Lilly, his sisters Matilda and Lillian, and that was only on a few occasions. I actually remember his brother Bill from my granpop's funeral in 1978 but don't recall if any of the other siblings were there at all.

So with nobody close to talk to or ask questions of, I was left with just a paper trail as a means of finding out. The only problem was that, for the first 10 years or so, I could not find the place to start. I couldn't even get his birth certificate as I didn't know where he'd been born nor the names of his parents. And when I searched for an Edward Lewis with brothers William and John, and sisters Matilda and Lillian, in the early part of the twentieth century, in London, I had hundreds of thousands of results. It seems they were the popular names of every almost every Lewis born in those years.

At that point, I thought my granpop was the youngest in the family but later, I found there was another brother, born in 1916, George.

When the breakthrough finally came, it opened up the floodgates. I think it was his death certificate that provided the registration district where he was born, and from there, census and electoral rolls provided more. Some addresses I knew from my childhood memories, others were an "oh wow, we used to walk within yards of that one, and never knew" moment. Gradually, I began to pull together all of the info and, through other research pertaining to the areas and periods, and come up with a fairly decent insight into the lives of those who went before.

That, for me, is part of the journey. I don't just want names and dates, I want to get to know who these people were.

Unfortunately, for many of my health problems, his family's cardiovascular genetics have been passed on to me.

He died of an aortic aneurysm.

His mother, Matilda Eliza Lewis (nee Burton) died of Auricular Fibrillation (A-Fib as it is known now, and which I have).

Her father, George Burton, died at the young age of only 35, from Cerebral Congestion (which further research has led to deciphering as high blood pressure probably resulting in a stroke).

I also found out that Matilda was born and grew up in the Old Nichol area of Bethnal Green (a notorious slum at the time) and that her mother's side of the family lived there, for a couple of generations prior to that (which is as far as I've got so far).

I still have a lot of finding out to do, but I am proud of his mother and father for what they achieved.

In 1913, when my granpop was born, they were living in Columbia Square, Bethnal Green, and he made the 5th child. This, at a time when the people that the Columbia Market housing had been built to house, could not afford the rents. My granpop's father, John, worked as a piano fitter/furniture maker and his wife, Matilda, is listed on the census as a box-maker. This was a common home-based work option that many women did, often involving the whole family, as it was piecework, and quotas were expected to be met.

So, with 5 children to feed and clothe, they lived in decent accommodation with a shared indoor bathroom on each level.

Samuel and Mary Ann Poyser Grave

This photo was kindly taken for me by Kathy Taylor, who lives close to the East of London Cemetery where my grandmother, Rose Lewis(nee Poyser)'s parents are buried. 

In Loving Memory
of
My Dear Wife
Mary Ann Poyser
Who Died September 16 1936
aged 50 years

She bade no-one her last farewell
she said goodbye to none
Her spirit flew before we knew
O God thy will be done

and Samuel Poyser
Husband of the above
Who died 17 October 1956
aged 70

Reunited in Gods keeping



There is a stone flower pot that is inscribed:-

Polly and Sam


The is also a stone open book that reads:-

Rest on dear father
thy labours o'er,
Thy willing hands
will toil no more,
A faithful father
true and kind,
No friend on earth
like thee we find.

and on the right hand page:-

A loveable life
A peaceful sunset
A beautiful memory

The name of the stone mason is A. Elfes of Upton Park.

Who Was Edward Lewis?

Edward Lewis was my grandfather

Edward Thomas Lewis, was born 23rd October 1913. The address on his birth certificate is 48 Columbia Square in Hackney.

He had three brothers, William, John, and George, and 2 sisters, Matilda known as Tilly, and Lillian known as Lilly. Sadly, not much was really known about his side of the family and it has taken a lot of digging to find out about them.

My grandmother always told me that he "pursued her" and wouldn't take no for an answer. I believe they met when he was 17 (and she 22, his age being one of the reasons she simply did not take him seriously at first).

However, he managed to persuade her to become his wife, and they married on 25th April 1936 at Holy Trinity Church in Canning Town.

The 1936 electoral rolls show them living at 23 Shacklewell Lane in Hackney; this would have been their first home together as it was the year they married.

They produced 2 children - my mother, Sylvia (1937) and my aunt, Irene (1940).

During WWII, he was in the Royal Signals and spent time in Pune (Poona) in India.

I am amazed by how young he was - probably only 23-25 or thereabouts - in this picture. I so wish I could get copies of his military records, as I know  they would be able to tell me more about his Army career.

He sent a lot of photographs to my grandmother whilst in India, and from what he wrote on them he missed her terribly.

In the late 1950's he was working on Kingsland Road in Dalston, for a lumber company named King and Scarborough. They were situated next to a bridge and were alongside the canal. He drove a lorry for the company, and sometimes I went with him when I was really young. I can remember him backing the lorry towards the canal and being terrified we were going to go in the water. I was maybe 3 or 4 at the time.

This was his King and Scarborough lorry, and was parked outside of the 9a Marlborough Avenue, London Fields, E9 address in April of 1962. Behind the lorry, to the right is Shrubland Road, and in the empty space behind the fence, is what looks like the remains of a bomb crater. This area did not stay empty for long. In the sixties, demand for housing in inner London, saw blocks of flats going up all over, and this site soon sported a huge high rise.

If you look closely, midway along Shrubland Road there is a rag and bone man's cart and his horse. Do they even exist anymore? I can still hear the echo of his cry "Any old iron?"

When King and Scarborough went out of business, he began working at the Hackney Baths as a boilerman, and later at the Eastway Laundry at Hackney Wick. When my nan picked me up from my house in Leytonstone, the bus would take us by Hackney Wick on the way to London Fields.

My grandfather was a man of many talents. He played a trumpet, and kept it in a velvet lined case. As he grew older, he got it out less and less, though. He also had welding/soldering skills and used to repair televisions - when they had the picture tubes in. He'd set it up on the table in the living room and the smell of soldering would soon fill the small room.

The flat at 9a Marlborough Avenue was small - one bedroom, bathroom, living room and tiny kitchen. I think originally it was just a house, and the council decided to make it into 2 flats, one upstairs and one downstairs. My grandparents lived in the upstairs flat, and had a sliding door leading upstairs, to the left as you came in the front door.

His one vice was his smoking - he rolled his own cigarettes using Old Holborn tobacco out of a tin. My nan would buy 1/2 oz packets of Old Holborn, and he would empty it into his tin where he also kept his Rizla rolling papers.

Although I don't remember him ever going to church on a Sunday, he would still "dress" in his "Sunday best" - clean, pressed shirt with a collar - as was the style in those days even among the working class.

I grew up knowing that my granpop loved me dearly, but one of my memories takes on a different light when viewed with adult eyes. During one of our holiday treks from London through Hampshire (with a stopover in the New Forest) and on to Somerset, Devon and Cornwall, we stopped at one of our favourite places which was a lay-by with a huge pile of asphalt at one end. I used to love to run up the "hill" and have the shiny black pieces ripple and fall, crunching under my feet as they did so.

This particular time though, a chicken came strutting out from the woods next to the lay-by. I fed it bread and talked to it, much to the amusement of both my grandparents, although my request for it as a pet was met with "well, if it's here on the way back ..." fully expecting it to be gone on the return trip a week or so later. However, my happiness was complete - and my granpop's problems only just begun - as there waiting for us when we stopped the following week, was my chicken.

I was about 6 or 7, and you have to understand - that chicken was my friend. So, unable to ignore my pleas any more, my granpop set about trying to catch it for me. He chased it, he coaxed it, he even made a lasso and laid the noose part on the ground and tried to trap it while I fed it, but the wily chicken managed to avoid him and he came up empty-handed.

Now though, I wonder whether if he had caught it, would it have been as a pet for me or as dinner in the saucepan on the Primus that night? I guess that's something I'll never know.

My grandparent's grave at the little churchyard at Banham in Norfolk, within sight of the home they had planned for their retirement, Sunny View, at Overcross.

My cousin, Wendy, and her family, take care of it and she took this pic the last time she was there.

More About Me

I was born in 1955, in Highgate Hospital, London, from where Dick Whittington is supposed to have heard the sound of Bow Bells. That makes me a true cockney.

A picture of me with Aunt Maud at Broadstairs - the East Enders seaside of choice in the 1950's. I was about a year old.

Cockney Rhyming Slang
Resource of the cockney dialect. Some expressions I hadn't heard of before, so it is still evolving.

East London History
My roots are in London, I grew up in the East End. These are some of the places I have found that have enriched my searching.

East of London Family History Society
A complete site focusing on the history of families in London's East End. Message boards, optional membership and magazine, all manner of interesting info and links.

London Ancestor
A mine of information, mostly from before 1880. Extracts and transcripts of directories and manuscripts, lots of genealogy data and Greater London history.

Toby and John's Transport History brought back so many memories of the buses that I used to ride on as a child, all over London. I can remember "electric" buses, which I suppose were really trolley buses, sometime in the late 1950's or early 1960's. Toby and John have worked really hard on this site to give you lots of pics and history.

The London Transport Museum is another interesting site too. Lots of memories. Makes me realise I'm getting old(er) when my childhood is the stuff that museums are made of!


I grew up in Leytonstone, but spent a lot of my childhood in Hackney/Dalston/Shoreditch/Liverpool Street areas as well as touring England's West country a lot during Summer holidays, with my grandparents. My granpop would drive from London and we would spend out first night in a clearing in the New Forest, in Hampshire.

Every morning the ponies would come up the road and gather around us, grazing, curious and waiting to see what goodies we would offer. I can remember the smell of those crisp green mornings, my nan cooking breakfast on an old Primus stove so that bacon frying mingled with the woody forest smell. I remember the washing of face an hands, and all the other bits, with a bowl and wash cloth, Pears soap being the order of the day to keep my skin soft and clear.

Here is a picture of me at 2 years old.

In those days they used to have a yearly Miss Pears competition for little girls up to 12 years of age, and the winner was used as the poster child for the upcoming year. You can still find illustrations of some of these old posters. I never achieved my childhood dream of becoming Miss Pears - but neither did a lot of other little girls of the time, either, so I don't feel so bad now.

A pic of me with my nan's dog, Fluff, at 2 Cherbury Street Hoxton, in the backyard.

When my nan and granpop moved into the maisonette, Fluff went to live with my Aunt Irene in Manor Park. At that time, the privy was still out in the back yard and you had to go to the end of the path. Fluff was also out in the back yard, and my dad was terrified of her and for some reason she didn't like him either. His need to go to the privy would be postponed until he couldn't hold it any longer, and it'd be a mad dash for him to get to the privy before Fluff could chase him.

School Days

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.

I was about 3 years old when this was taken.

I was about 6 years old when this was taken.

Me and my nan in Cornwall about 1962

Poyser name Meaning and Heraldry

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

Poyser, PoyzerWeigher, 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, Poyzer Family motto: Grace me guide.