Coughs and Sneezes Spread Diseases

A quick check in our bathroom cabinet reveals thirteen cold & flu remedies, five different types of sticking plasters and numerous other pills and potions. When did it become necessary to have so many? When I was growing up just three things resided in the family medicine cabinet. The first was a large jar of Vicks VapoRub, the second a packet of Veganin tablets and the third a bright orange tin containing Elastoplast.

Source

Pinterest 

Most minor ailments were taken care of with these three simple remedies. A Veganin and a bedtime story were guaranteed to cure a toothache, Vicks VopoRub applied to the chest cleared the nose and ensured a restful sleep, and a plaster applied with a 'kiss to make it better’ was all it took to sort out bumps and bruises.

Etsy.com

I only recall one occasion when something more than a plaster was needed to sort my bumps and bruises.  I was reminded of it recently when my little granddaughter Lilly had an accident. Lilly fell onto a slate floor and ended up having a two-hour operation to repair a really nasty gash to her forehead.  I was luckier in that the gash to my forehead required just a few stitches and a very large bandage.

Something like sixty years separates these two photographs.  

The photograph on the left is of me (with bandage) my brother Tony, my sister Sue and my mum.  I don’t recall the name of the lady I'm sitting with and can only assume she was a family friend.  The other photograph is of Lilly with her 'bandaged bear' – if you look closely you will notice the bear is wearing a bandage around his head and another around his arm. 

Elka Little Bear with Bandages

I didn't experience many ailments as a child, but I did suffer from motion sickness (strangely enough it has returned with a vengeance as I've grown older). I've tried all kinds of remedies from pills to patches to wrist bands, none of which really help. Maybe I should go back to my dads tried and tested remedy.  Imagine this conversation on one of our frequent trips to Cornwall or on the way to Buckinghamshire to visit relatives.   "Dad I feel sick".  “Hold on, we are almost at the shop”.  "There you go that will sort you out”.  It took years for me to realise a bar of chocolate would do one of two things; it would take my mind of the motion sickness, or it would make me sick but either way I would feel better. Simple!  How did my dad get to be so wise?

This next image found in The Windsor Magazine has nothing whatsoever to do with my childhood, although my nose might have benefited from a little reshaping. 

So Easy to Shape Your Nose - corrects all ill-shaped noses quickly, painlessly and permanently. Over 100,000 satisfied users.  Trados Model No. 25 (British Patent).

As the season of colds and flu is fast approaching I feel duty-bound to share this public information film with you. Enjoy! 

Now it's time to call in at Sepia Saturday to see what ails my fellow Sepians. Don't forget to take your handkerchief....

Guest Post; My Sister Remembers - Part Four

Memories of Susan Poulter nee Flitney; Sue is my older sister (although she looks younger!)

Previous instalments here, here and here 

Great excitement came to the village of Ibstone in 1953. It was the year of the Coronation of Elizabeth II which in Ibstone meant a sports day, decorated cycle competition and many other events. Tony and I entered the best decorated cycle competition and spent hours putting red, white and blue crepe paper around the spokes in the wheels and everywhere else we could add a bow or flag we did – but we did not win a prize. Most of the village turned up to watch the ceremony on our TV, and I remember mum was in her element making tea, handing round cakes etc.,

In the summer life would be really good (as long as mum and dad were talking), dad would take us all to Shiplake where we would paddle in the river and have picnics. Summer in my memory was always hot and sunny, apart from the thunderstorms, which I hated. I spent many hours in the woods making camps with my friends, swinging from ropes on trees and pretending I was in the circus. I always imagined that one day I would move to the other side of the valley, have a big house and horses, shame dreams get shattered!

    Rene Flitney (left) and Denis Flitney (right) in the river with Tony, Sue, Barbara & friends       

It was hard for mum and dad to keep up with all the demands for uniform, items for cooking classes, material for needlework classes, gym kit and so on at High Wycombe school and I would often be the one that didn't have all I needed. This led to other children being really nasty and the fact that my dad had an old car also meant I got a lot of stick. Homework would take me hours as I was so anxious all the time, so it was with some relief that I learnt my dad was looking for a new job and we would be leaving Ibstone. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had decided to get rid of the Jersey cows, which were my dad’s pride and joy, and replace them with pigs which, although we had some when we lived at Twigside for our own consumption, he didn't like working with.

Mum was really upset as she had friends at Ibstone and a lovely modern detached bungalow but, dad being dad, did his own thing and got a job on a farm near Thame in Oxfordshire and moved us all in to a much older, inner terrace house. This was a real come down for mum who was most unhappy with it.  I was about twelve when we moved, and I think the farm was at Scotsgrove. Excuse me (Barbara) butting in here, I just want to confirm the farm is at Scotsgrove. Terry and I visited in July 2014.

The house at Scotsgrove in the 50s - could that be mum in the doorway?

The same house in 2014, the only noticeable difference is the size of the hedge!

There was a large carthorse called Captain  who I was allowed to ride and as horses were my great love I started to relax. I took myself off on long rides at the weekend with no tack other than a rope halter. There were lovely bridle ways around Thame so summer was a joy; I used to ride down a track which ran outside the grounds owned by Sir Lawrence Olivier (the English actor) and his beautiful wife Vivian Leigh. I always thought I might see them one day, but no such luck.

In the winter the meadows opposite our house would flood and then freeze so we would all go ice-skating whenever we could. My sister, Barbara, remembers going out in the meadow before the water froze, with a little boat belong to my brother Tony.

I do remember it Sue. I don’t know how old I was, but I hadn’t started school – so not very old. Tony had a sailing yacht, and I thought it would be fun to float it on the flood waters. I crossed a road in front of the house and then walked a fair way down a track to the fields. It wasn't long before the water was over the top of my wellies but it didn’t deter me.  I must have been playing in the water for at least a couple of hours when I heard shouting and looking up, saw mum, dad and several other people heading towards me through the floods. It’s probably one of the only times I ever saw dad looking really cross!  By the time they found me, half the people in the village (including the local bobby) were out searching. I remember dad scooping me up onto his shoulders and carrying me back home through the floods – quite an adventure but one I didn't repeat!

By this time, life was a little better for mum as Thame was not far away and there were more shops, and she could get out easily by catching a bus at the stop opposite the house. I went to Aylesbury Grammar School and found it was much nicer going to a mixed school. My dad had been a prefect there in his school days and some of the older teachers remembered him, so I was made to feel very welcome and put into his old “house". Sport became my first love. I was in the school hurdles team and did quite well. I also sang in the school choir and because I was more relaxed, my academic work started to improve.

Thame High Street and Town Hall, 1957

My Auntie Babs and Uncle Fred lived in Aylesbury. They were competition ballroom dancers before retirement and my Auntie was also a pianist. They said I could have dance or piano lessons and I choose the piano. I used to go to them after school one day a week and I think I loved the tea more than the lessons. My aunt always served up small cucumber sandwiches and little home-made cakes on beautiful china and I was very impressed. I had a piano at home (it had been left me by a different aunt when we lived at Ibstone) so I thought it would be lovely to be able to use it properly. Of course, I could not practice as much as I should because living in a terraced house it upset all the neighbours!

Unfortunately my time at Aylesbury School didn't last long as within a year my dad had fallen out with his employer and we were on the move again. I think he had numerous interviews, but the one we children remember best was one for a job on the Isle of Wight. The journey across was awful with a really bad storm; I remember sitting up on the deck where I felt safest and chatting to a farmer who was taking sheep over to the island. When we got there we went in dad's car to what seemed the centre of the island to this most beautiful farm. The farmer and his family seemed very nice and friendly. They had dogs, horses, a tennis court and swimming pool – all the things that were quite impressive to us youngsters. The house that went with the job was a really large very old farmhouse and mum hated it – said that it reminded her of Twigside, and she was not going back to “the dark ages”. We were very disappointed, as I think was dad. On the way back to the ferry we stopped and picked some lovely white flowers – well we had never seen wild garlic before - the car smelt awful for days!!

Sue and Barbara on The Isle of Wight 

To be continued….

Guards Menswear, London and Basingstoke in the 1960s.

The prompt for this week’s Sepia Saturday is Bobbies, bellies, bums, brushes and beards. 

I'm not sure what the collective noun for a group of bellies is. A bouquet of bellies was the best I could come up with, but I also like a bevy, a bulge and an embarrassment! Anyone got any better ideas?

This is a photo of me with a group of work friends and colleagues about to join the carnival procession. The year was 1969, and the carnival was in Basingstoke, Hampshire. I'm standing in the front row fourth from the right (in front of the cooking pot!), with my friend Annike to my right and Rose our office manager to my left.

It took weeks and weeks to make the paper flowers, grass skirts and palm trees, but it was a lot of fun! A couple of low bridges on the way to the town centre played havoc with the trees. It was made even worse when we set off along the route because the lorry in front of us was complete with a fully operational water canon! The boys on that float thought it was hilarious to soak the girls on ours. This was in the days when you jammed lots of people onto small vehicles not like the ‘monster trucks’ in use now.

We all worked at Schneider’s (Guards Menswear) so goodness knows why the chap on the back of the lorry thought it was a good idea to remove his trousers!

Since 1843 Guards have trousered the well-dressed man. Guards in the modern mood, with many refinements born of this long experience, are available in remarkably fine Worsteds, Gabardines and Twills...

When I started working for Guards, the business was located in Durward Street, Whitechapel, but it wasn’t long before they moved to Basingstoke. The 1960s saw lots of businesses moving out of the city into ‘overspill’ towns as part of the Greater London Plan. I loved the excitement of going ‘up to London’ by train and was sorry when the time came to move. Now of course, I wish I had taken more notice of my surroundings. I have a vague recollection of a tall building, an old-fashioned lift and the office where I worked. I assume there must have been machine rooms and cutting rooms, but I honestly couldn't say.

Above: Durward Street in the 1960s, practically unchanged from 1888

My memories are more about the girls I worked with, many of them born and bread in that part of London, and the places we visited in the lunch hour. Market stalls, pubs and shops were the things of interest back then.  How I wish I could return to my seventeen-year-old self and take a proper look around!  I do remember being nervous on the walk to and from the underground station, especially on murky evenings. My head was always full of stories of Jack the Ripper, London smog, dark alleyways and gruesome murders. Durward Street (formerly Buck's Row) was close to where the body of Jack the Ripper’s first victim was discovered.

Police Constable Neil with the Body of Mary Ann Nichols in Buck's Row, Whitechapel

The Gloucester Citizen 08 September 1888

The scene of the crime is not far from Buck's-row, where the woman Nicholls was lately murdered. The discovery was made by John Davis, living at 29, Hamborough-street, in the yard of which the body was found. Mr. Davis was crossing the yard at a quarter to six, when he saw a horrible looking mass lying in the corner. While he was gone to give information to the police, Mrs. Richardson an old lady, sleeping on the first floor, was aroused by her grandson, and looking out of the back window saw the body lying in the yard. The throat was cut from ear to ear, and the deceased was lying on her back with her legs outstretched; her clothes were pushed up above the knees, and the body was ripped up from the groin to the breast-bone, the heart and liver were torn out, and the remains were lying in a pool of blood...

I had no idea this post was going to turn out to be quite so gruesome. It’s amazing the twists and turns these stories take.  Something that surprises me time and time again is how one thing leads to another.  Every time I set out to research one member of my family, I find myself meandering around lots of dead ends and dark alleyways – much as I did here!

Follow this link to read more Sepia Saturday post.

A Walk in Winslow

Winslow is a market town and civil parish in the Aylesbury Vale district of North Buckinghamshire. The town was first recorded in the charter by which King Offa granted it to St Albans Abbey in 792/3 as Wineshauue, which translated into modern English means Wine's Burial Mound. In the Domesday Book of 1086, it was recorded as Weneslai.

My association with Winslow came about through visits to my paternal grandmother Daisy Clara Flitney. I don’t know when granny moved to Winslow, but I feel sure she was there during the 1950s and 60s.  Most of my memories of those visits stem from around the time of my 10th birthday in 1958. 

I have no recollection of my brother Tony or my sister Sue visiting granny with us. There is an age gap of approximately ten years between the three of us, so Tony might have been married by that stage and Sue was probably working. That would explain why I recall long walks around Winslow with my dad without either of my siblings. I loved being with dad and to have him all to myself was a real treat.  Mum and granny were always pleased to have us “out from under their feet” while they chatted about the latest “goings on” in the family. Don’t ask me what those “goings on” were but trust me when I tell you they spent a lot of time discussing them.

Our walks always followed the same route.  Exit via the back door, three turns around the bird bath (me not dad!) a quick dash through the garden to catch up and out through the gate at the end. Turn right on to the footpath, right again past the cricket pitch. Continue along the footpath before turning right once more onto the high street.  Stop at the sweet shop for a sherbet fountain (sherbet with a liquorice dip) or a quarter of cough candy for me and a sugar mouse for dad. These were to be enjoyed as we took a leisurely stroll around the market square and the churchyard before eventually returning home.

In July of this year (2014), Terry and I visited Winslow. We expected to find the footpath gone, and a housing estate where the cricket pitch used to be, but we were pleasantly surprised. The photographs that follow are a record of our visit.

This is such a well remembered view.  As a child, I was always looking out for the pub at the end of the road because that meant we had arrived!  Dad would turn right in front of the pub and park at the back of a row of houses, and that’s exactly what Terry and I did this time.

The footpath still runs along the back of the houses, but I remember trees on both sides, and I don’t think there was a car park back then.

The sports field with the cricket pitch in the background.

July 2014, The Market Square and The George Hotel, Winslow

and as it once looked

July 2014, St Laurence Parish Church, Winslow

St Laurence Parish Church as I remember it in the 1950s

Sadly, the visitors’ book in the church only goes back to September, 1989.  I was hoping to find an older one as I feel sure we would have signed it.

Fancy T-hat
A colourful shop in the Market Square

even brighter inside.

One of the streets close to the market square.

The High Street now

and as it once looked.

The old sweet shop has gone but the new ‘retro’ one sold sugar mice, so I bought one in memory of dad.

A walk along the high street and back to the house.

I couldn't remember the address but thanks to Cousin John and Google maps we found it. The only new additions are the vintage signs otherwise it looks exactly as it did even down to the colour of the paint!

The carriage entrance at the side of the house was a source of delight to me as a child. The little door in the centre of the large door was endlessly fascinating. 

Granny Daisy and dad in the back garden at Winslow

Granny, me, and mum in the back garden at Winslow

Granny always stood on the pavement to wave us off, dabbing her eyes with a hankie as we drove away.
This time it was me shedding a tear.

If you would like to read more about the history of Winslow there is a very good site here.

Guest Post; My Sister Remembers – Part One

I was born on the 20th May 1942 in the flat at Ibstone House, Ibstone, Nr High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire where my mum, Irene known as Rene, was the housekeeper to Rebecca West and her husband Henry Andrews and my dad, Dennis, was their farm manager.  Rebecca West (Mrs. Andrews) was one of my Godparents, and my full name is Susan Rebecca Irene Flitney.

My brother Tony was four years older than me, and I gather, got up to lots of mischief whilst living at Ibstone House. One year he chopped off the entire crop of tulip heads, and another picked all the flowers off the runner beans. I remember dad being very stern and taking his belt to Tony if he was naughty, and that was quite often. I remember parties at Ibstone House and being given home-made ice cream in the kitchen. Princess Margaret, other Royals and people in the literary world visited, but I can’t remember much about it other than mum “shushing” me if I became too noisy in the house. When I was at school we would perform our summer play at Ibstone House, and it was always a wonderful day with lovely food, and the sun always shone. Once I was asked to sing to Rebecca West’s guests, and in my very shaky voice sang ‘Summer time’. The wall around the house was a magnet for children, and I remember I once took some saddles and bridles from the tack room and put them on the wall so we could all play at ‘hunting’, that was another lecture for me and a belting for my brother.

After a while, we moved to Twig Side Farm (see map).

We had a prisoner of war staying with us and working on the farm. I can’t remember his name, but can remember being scared when I knew he was coming, but in fact, he was a really nice person and good fun to have around. The farm sat in the bottom of a valley with a steep track down. Loggers used to pull felled trees out of the woods using horses with chains; I remember being very scared the first time I heard them thinking it was ghosts in the woods. We had geese, pigs, sheep and chicken. I hated the geese because they used to chase me. I would always run and hide in the barn but on one occasion, they came in under the door, I remember screaming until my mum came to rescue me – I still hate geese!

Mum and I made butter with little wooden butter pats, one of my favourite jobs (and there were plenty!). She also made cheese and grew all our vegetables. I suppose it was the good life, but I am sure very hard work for everyone.  My dad would kill the pigs. He loved trotters (pig’s feet) for breakfast with wild mushrooms - it took me a long time to like pork.

Granny Daisy, Uncle Owen, Auntie Jean and Auntie Margaret used to visit in the summer, and we would have picnics in the fields. We were close to the Thames and in the middle of a most beautiful part of the Chilterns. I always thought Ibstone was a funny name, and it was not until I was older that I found out it is an old English name “Ibba Stan” meaning boundary stone of a man called Ibba. I have not been able to find out who Ibbas was, but he obviously staked his claim to a beautiful piece of England.   

Tony and Sue

 My brother Tony and I went to Ibstone Village School. We had a very steep hill to walk up, and it could get extremely muddy. We wore boots and then changed into slippers before going in to school.

Ibstone Church of England School - July 2014

 Mum became really ill with asthma, and the doctor said it was living in the valley, as it was always damp and misty. Mrs. Andrews decided to have a bungalow built for us in the village. This was really exciting! It was a wood faced detached bungalow built in Sonning Field, hence it was called Sonningfield Bungalow.  We had a garage and a utility room with a washing machine and a mangle. The scariest moment there was when we had a chimney fire and the fire spread to the loft. I have had a fear of fire ever since.

[I remember the night of the fire. I was very young at the time – perhaps three or four?  I was woken by the sound of a huge roar and a crackling, spitting kind of noise. In hindsight, I imagine the roar was the sound of the chimney catching fire, and the other noises must have been the wooden beams in the ceiling burning. My only other memory is of someone lifting me out of bed and then being outside watching sparks shooting out of the chimney.  I’m not sure about the last part. I don’t know if it’s something my mind has added in the intervening years but the sounds have stayed with me all this time and like Sue, I’m terrified of fire... Barbara]

Because Tony was older than me, he left Ibstone School first and went on to a school in Stokenchurch about four miles away. Naturally enough he made new friends and didn't want his sister tagging along any more. I really missed his company and decided I hated all boys! 

Sue in the front garden of Sonningfield Bungalow.  

July 2014; Sonningfield Bungalow replaced by a house named Sonningfield.   

To be continued....