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Fair Mile Hospital

Page 5

by Ian Wheeler


  The laundry remained the most mechanised part of the hospital, even if the apparatus was basic, and the safety of workers was a legitimate consideration. The Visitors pointed out in 1912 that the wooden covers of the wringer were unsafe and ‘iron net work covers hung with counter balancing weights’ were recommended. The same equipment, this time referred to as ‘the calender’ came under scrutiny in 1934 for lack of protection against accidental injury. This exactly reflects the supposedly modern health and safety doctrine of ‘machinery guarding’.

  Such improvements do not mean that all was now lavender-scented and blue-white, for it must be remembered that any hospital laundry faces particular challenges relating to the spread of infection. (See here.)

  New hydro-extractors arrived in 1937 and, in the same year, the Commissioners tactfully suggested that ‘a steam trouser press either in the laundry or the tailor’s shop would be of value in improving the appearance of the male patients’ clothing’, but by 1938 they were insisting that, despite these and a new foul washer, a new laundry would have to be constructed to meet demand.

  This timing was unfortunate, for war was brewing and we can assume that the public purse was all but padlocked in the face of national uncertainty. Fast-forward to 1956, when the weekly workload was now some 28,000 articles, and the situation was seen as desperate. In an all-too-familiar pattern, the facility was forced to soldier on until 1960, when it was relocated to a new building at the south-east end of the farm complex and connecting with the stores and the sewing room beyond. The old laundry was demolished, to be rebuilt as a desperately needed, new and enlarged hospital kitchen.

  The laundry in about 1900. Note the electric lighting. The blurring is due to staff moving about during a slow exposure. (Spackman collection)

  THE POWER OF STEAM

  In March 1931, the Commissioners made an observation that may have had far-reaching consequences – that ‘foul linen’ (meaning bedding soiled with faeces and/or urine) was disinfected only by passing through the washing machine – and tests were duly ordered. Further, it was noted that the wheeled bins used to transport the dirty linen from the wards were sanitised only by dipping them in disinfectant. Commissioners Hopson and Williams suggested using a steam jet instead and this advice was followed, although there is no clear indication that the equipment had arrived until at least the spring of 1932. Subsequent reports suggest that outbreaks of enteric fever, typhoid, dysentery and the like became much less frequent; no further mention is made until 1941, when an outbreak of paratyphoid fever was confined to a single ward.

  A lighter moment among the laundry and domestic ladies, late 1940s. Standing, from left: Ada Blissett; Jessie Matthews; Mrs Wallis; Mrs Heath; Marion Matheson; Rosie Marshall; Doris Marshall; others unknown except far right ? Groves. Seated: Lena Birnie and Lynna Ganz. (Spackman collection)

  Laundry and domestic staff, late 1940s. Standing, from left: ? Groves; Marion Matheson; Lena Birnie; possibly ? Jones; Joan Woodward; Ada Blissett; Sid ‘Paddy’ Patrick. Seated: Chris Ruttle; Mrs Heath; Rosie Marshall; Lynna Ganz; Mrs. Wallis. Chris Ruttle was the lifelong companion of Joan Woodward, who was in charge of the laundry and very popular. Chris and Sid Patrick worked in the laundry despite their Wellington boots. Marion Matheson was known to many as ‘Aunt Marion’. (Spackman collection)

  Michael ‘Wacker’ Strange delivering laundry bags to the wards in 1992. (Spackman collection)

  Kitchen

  Very little descriptive information about the hospital kitchen survives, most references being concerned with staff changes, dietary patterns (see Chapter 6) or complaints about structural problems. It was originally situated near the back of the central block, behind the administrative offices and stores, adjacent to the dining hall.

  Meals were at first cooked on coal-fired ranges or else steamed, gas cookers not arriving until 1880. The gas works produced insufficient volume for cooking, and was done away with before 1914, so electricity from the asylum’s powerhouse is likely to have taken over as the energy source. Mains gas was piped to the kitchen when it became available in 1952.

  There were hints of trouble to come in a 1926 report. After complimenting the hospital on a long list of improvements, the Commissioners were moved to comment, very tactfully:

  … we hesitate to do more than draw attention to the inadequate character of the kitchen accommodation … We would suggest for consideration the possibility of the adoption of the system of ward feeding throughout the hospital and the consequent liberation of the present dining room for conversion into kitchen accommodation.

  There is no indication of any improvement by about 1930, although an electric mixer appeared at the behest of the Commissioners. Refrigeration was slow in arriving for a hospital of any kind: in 1936, the Commissioners commented on its absence and that the meat room was full of flies. Since there was apparently no money for a refrigerator, the cheaper installation of gauze doors and windows was suggested. In May 1937, the safety-conscious Commissioners had to report, ‘We noted in the kitchen the need for adequate protection of the bacon and bread cutting machine. Its condition yesterday was dangerous.’

  By December 1938, it was apparent that an extension and re-equipping of the kitchen were essential. There was insufficient cooking capacity for the hospital’s growing population and, for want of steamers, puddings could be provided only three times a week. This was written in tones of urgency, yet the following year’s report made the astute observation that improvements to both the kitchen and laundry might have to be delayed in the face of wartime restrictions.

  Superintendent Hugh Astley Cooper and the Visitors were keenly aware that the roofs of both the kitchen and laundry had become positively dangerous by October 1940. They also received criticism of the storage of perishable foods in ward kitchens, especially when sick cases were in the ward. Refrigerators were now essential and there was brief mention that these could be had in either electric- or gas-powered form, even though there was no gas supply. A more basic and achievable target was the provision of breadboxes.

  Another year on, we see that, as a fuel-saving measure, ‘In contemplation [is] the installation of a large slow-combustion cooker & two boiling pans in the main kitchen.’ This hints at solid fuel and was actually delivered within the next twelve months. Meanwhile, repairs to the roofs of the kitchen and laundry were still wanting, and were causing real anxiety.

  War or no war, on 24 July 1943 the Commissioners went to town, declaring the kitchen to be in a disgraceful state:

  We know that a number of the Hospital Committee realise that the kitchen is obsolete. In fact this department is one of [the] most unsatisfactory we have seen in a mental hospital. Since the erection of a new kitchen or thorough reorganisation of the department is impracticable during the war period, discussion for the present has to be restricted to minor improvements. The Committee we understand have under consideration improving the ventilation of the central portion of the kitchen where the boilers and steamers are situated. When this is done we hope that the cleaning and redecoration of the walls will be undertaken, so as to ensure better hygienic conditions.

  The kitchen is stuffed liberally with both paid workers and patients; we feel that with more supervision of these workers and a little more system, conditions in this department would be improved materially even in the present circumstances.

  It is not clear what this tirade actually achieved; the October 1944 inspection suggested only that bread in transit to the wards should be covered with cloths as lidded metal bins could not be provided, presumably because metals were largely prioritised to munitions and aircraft.

  Following earlier reports of unexplained shortfalls, all patients were at least now on full civilian rations and a specimen meal of cold pork, pickles and baked rice pudding met with approval. Meal planning was almost invariably considered to be good, although somewhat at the mercy of available supplies.

  With the end of the war finally in sight, the July 1945 Co
mmissioners’ report expressed satisfaction that there were now rooms for storage and cutting of bread, and took particular pleasure in the arrival of tin containers with covers for transporting it. A ‘steam canopy’ (extractor hood) had also been fitted in the kitchen and work had commenced on stripping the walls, which were subsequently sprayed with asbestos. Progress perhaps moves in mysterious ways.

  More equipment arrived during 1947 but rats and mice had by now augmented the kitchen’s woes and a replacement was still the only solution, which even the new NHS could not provide; in 1955 the kitchen’s condition was dreadful and replacement depended on relocating the laundry (see above). There was the same annual story of apparent inaction until at last, in 1960, the old laundry could be gleefully demolished to provide a suitable site. Almost three more years elapsed before, in 1964, we first hear of the extensive, white-roofed and completed facility that produced meals for the remainder of the hospital’s life. As if to prove a point, there was immediate trouble with the flooring.

  The kitchen is the white-roofed area in this 1990 view from the north-west. Note also the pump houses over the old boreholes, lower left, and the two rectangular wings of 1957, flanking the Recreation Hall. (Spackman collection)

  Bakery

  The asylum’s bakery keeps a very low profile in the archives but we know that it was enlarged by Howell in 1881. With 800 mouths to feed by 1902, it is gratifying to learn that Hine doubled its size and equipped it with a kneading machine powered by a 6 horsepower electric motor! Baker’s yeast was an essential commodity, delivered at frequent intervals; in the late 1930s, the van was marked ‘DCL’.18

  Farm and Gardens

  By 1871, around fifty patients were regularly helping to produce foodstuffs on the asylum’s farm. Reports of about 1900 to the Commissioners in Lunacy show large quantities of milk, cream, butter, eggs, poultry, beef, mutton, veal, pork, suet, potatoes and vegetables being produced and accounted for by value. The farm had a stock yard, calving and farrowing pens, stables, a milking parlour, cart sheds and a slaughterhouse. Heavy horses provided the motive power, requiring stabling and mucking out; the dairy herd was served by a resident bull and the piggery produced pork that was sold to Wall’s, the pie and sausage concern. Grain was harvested and threshed for storage on site, while the straw was required for animals’ bedding. Mangolds were grown for animal feed in the large field to the south of Ferry Lane, and parties of male patients would go out to do the hoeing and harvesting, sometimes enjoying beer brought to them in large jugs.

  Horses continued to provide motive power until after the Second World War and were replaced by tractors only after 1946. The end of that conflict brought the farm a new and well-equipped dairy, although it was not long before it became easier to buy milk in from outside.

  Peace saw a slow decline in the farm’s importance and areas were taken over for use by transport and other services. The piggery was still active in the late 1970s but the farm closed not long after Mr Edward Smithers, manager since 1946, retired in 1975.

  Neither the kitchen garden nor the orchard was in place when the asylum opened. Dr Gilland reported on 20 September 1872 that his sketch plan for a kitchen garden had been approved, and it was staked out during the following month. The square plot, situated behind the Female wards, was divided by a cruciform network of paths, clearly visible in the photograph here, and fruit trees were planted among the vegetable beds; this produced a pleasant place for patients to work. An extensive orchard was established between the south-east of the farm and the later isolation hospital.

  The farm site in about 1990, now much altered. The laundry and stores are bottom left, with transport centre and remnants of the farm to the right. The cottages occupied by the Farm Bailiff and Clerk of Works stand by the road. (Spackman collection)

  The kitchen garden (centre right) and the orchard (top right) are well portrayed in this c.1927 photo, while the greenhouses can be glimpsed centre left. The large grassed area upper left was the original cricket field. Ferry Lane runs left to right towards the Thames. (Spackman collection)

  A glimpse of the kitchen garden from Renee Gorman’s room near the Recreation Hall, in 1951. The garden was turned into a cricket field soon afterwards. The path leads down to the river. Note the high wall of the airing court, bottom left, and the wooden Occupational Therapy huts. (Renee Brewerton, née Gorman)

  This attendant was identified as Charlie Crean, a former New York policeman who supervised outdoor working parties, although the dating evidence does not support this. The uniform is typical of around 1932. (Spackman collection)

  FARM LAND

  The asylum originally rented agricultural land from the wealthy Morrison19 family of nearby Lower Basildon but in 1911 the Morrisons were selling off parcels of land, with existing tenants having first option. The asylum was offered nearly 89 acres at £35 per acre. The Committee of Visitors inspected the land and notified agents Rawlence and Squarey that they were prepared to offer £25 an acre. Rawlence and Squarey sportingly responded that they might consider £30. Rarely keen on parting with money, in November 1911 the Visitors instructed their clerk to reply that £25 was all they would consider. Messrs R. & S. were not impressed.

  There was a notable lack of comment on the matter in December’s meeting but in January 1912 we find a slightly sheepish note that, following complicated calculations, it had been decided to pay £30 per acre, subject to financing the purchase over fifty years. This went ahead in April 1912, but not before the cost-conscious Visitors had learnt that, under the provisions of the Local Government Act, 1888 et al., they were prevented from borrowing money over a period greater than thirty years.

  GIANT CABBAGES

  In the BMH period, the establishment still made full use of its sewage beds, the management of which fell to one or more male patients, who apparently made a good job of it. Through fortitude, enterprise and the addition of farm manure, valuable nutrients were recovered for the greater good of the hospital’s productive fields and gardens.

  In the 1930s, Lilian Talbot, former nurse and by now wife of the Hall Porter, appreciated her allocation of home-grown vegetables as much as any young mother. One day, when a particularly impressive cabbage was delivered to her door, she insisted that it be changed for something smaller, since she was aware that someone was growing them on the walkways between the sewage beds!

  The kitchen garden’s healthy potato crop warranted mention in Dr Gilland’s early journals and staple vegetables such as carrots, cabbages, sprouts, parsnips and leeks were still cropping during the Second World War, supplying the hospital kitchen and those members of staff whose wages entitled them to a share, who received deliveries twice a week in a large basket.

  Greenhouses

  Heated greenhouses stood just to the south of the lodge cottage and produced flowers for the wards, plus a variety of hot-house fruits and vegetables such as tomatoes, cucumbers and melons. Mr Henry Last was Head Gardener from 1906 until 1938 and became skilled at this form of horticulture; yields were good enough that luxury items like asparagus, although grown for the doctors and senior officers, would sometimes reach ordinary members of staff. During the war, the post of Head Gardener was held Mr Bill Chamberlain.

  Pharmacy

  The hospital had its own pharmacist but the department drew little attention to itself. Its final home was in rooms built in 1881 and 1901 as mess and recreation rooms for male staff. The opening of the social club building in 1964 probably made this space available.

  A 1980s view of the pharmacy. Ruth Ellenby on left and Katy Sims centre. (Spackman collection)

  Stores: Old, New and Newer

  The General Stores originally occupied a relatively small area in the central block of the asylum building and kept nearly all of the asylum’s supplies and spares.

  Items that could not be produced on site were put out to tender and the lists make interesting reading. Although extensive lists of bought-in provisions can be seen in the Visitor
s’ ledgers, these do not include staple foods, which probably came under the control of the Steward.

  Other items, such as those listed in September 1909, included black lead, boiled mutton, oatmeal, starch, bath bricks, tobacco, treacle, blacking, hearthstones and extract of beef (Bovril). A Mr F. Wheeler of Wallingford supplied soda and salt. In February 1912, among other clothing and fabrics, E. Jackson & Sons of Kings Road Corner, Reading, supplied tapestry carpet, hearth rugs, men’s neckerchiefs, men’s felt hats and ‘24 gross black dress buttons’.

  It is remarkable that the stores remained in such small quarters until after the Second World War. Peace and progress brought many more proprietary items and new ways of thinking. Thus a much larger, purpose-built stores was erected in 1956 on part of the former orchard, lying alongside the boundary hedge. This boasted large windows and an impressive roof of sheet asbestos; an electric delivery vehicle was procured to deliver goods around the site. Sadly, the building went up in flames a few years later. No precise account seems to exist but anecdotes say that the place ‘burned like a Roman candle’ and that roofing sheets exploded like bombs in the intense heat.

  The 1956 Group Stores building. Note the farm site beyond. The site was previously the large orchard. (Spackman collection)

  Staff outside the new Group Stores in 1956. From left: Vic Whittick, storeman; Frank Rowswell; possibly Miss Shaw or Beryl Smithers; Gerald Woolley; Laurie Blake; Mick Broad (driver). Woolley was in charge of stores and Blake was his second-in-command. The stores burned down after a very short life. (Spackman collection)

 

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