KENSINGTON HOSPITAL SCHOOL
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The Hospital School was organised by a dedicated team of teachers, under the leadership of headmistress Miss.V.M.Hall. Making a great contribution to releiving the boredom of a very long day, and assisting our education. The following is a chapter from my book, 'The Balcony Boy', an account by Vesta Stretch, who relates her experiences on teaching at the Hospital, and the lasting
impression it had on her future career. She writes:
" Although I cannot describe my school days as being particularly happy ones, my years spent in grammer school, were the war years 1940-45. I did however gain knowledge having gained a School Certificate in 1945, when the war
was virtually over, and I was looking forward to persuing a further course of study
under happier circumstances.
However, by this time misfortune had struck the family, with my father becoming seriously ill. As I was the second eldest of the family of six children, I left school in order to help out the family finances. It was in December 1945 with
the strains of 'Lord dismiss us with thy blessing' ringing in my ears, that I left school having been assigned a post as an uncertified teacher at a hospital school.When I was forced to leave to leave school, I thought the bottom of the world had fallen, and my education ended. How wrong I was. I knew very little about the place to which I was going, and it was about twenty seven miles, from my home town of Fishguard, in the heart of the country, to which there was no bus
service. I was pickedd up by the hospital bus some fifteen miles away, to travel the
remaining twelve miles. This part of the journey seemed endless, and the fact that
I was leaving home, for the first time, didn't help very much. My first glimpse of the hospital, I shall never forget. I was sitting in the front with the driver, when what lokked like a castle appeared in view, like something out of fairyland. As we
proceeded up the drive to the hospital, one saw a beautiful view of St.Brides Bay, and at the top of the drive, this majestic building, Kensington Hospital, that was to be my weekly home, for as long as the powers that be would allow.
At this hospital there were eighty children of school age all suffering from the
awful tuberculosis bone disease. There were daily school hours for those children
in their respective wards. To my charge was enlisted the teaching of two wards of
boys, whose ages ranged from six to eleven. Some of these children, had not been able to walk for years, most of which were suffering from tubercular spines, and hips, and were strapped to frames, only able to move their heads and arms. There
were very few highlights to their lives, the sight of the mailvan maybe, or the weekly arrival of the 'sausage van'.
These sights to normal children would have no significance whatsoever, but I can still see the excited faces of my charges, as they strained to see them through
the ever open sanatorium windows. The children were allowed monthly visits, if their parents could afford the train fare to the nearest railway station at Haverfordwest. Here they were picked up by the hospital bus, and transported to the hospital. Another treat for the children was a fortnightly film show, whebn they were carried on stretchers, to the playroom, and put in elevated positions to watch the film. There was great excitement on these occasions, and little work was done that day.
Life as you may imagine was not very eventful under the conditions. To me was entrusted the task of assisting the education of these two wards of boys. It was
here through them, I learned the most important lesson of my life, the true meaning of courage and fortitude. The way each bore his cross ,was worthy of our
maker. Todays moaners and groaners, had they seen these children would make them wish the earth would swallow up. Nevertheless , happiness shone, through their suffering. Their written work with their excercise books clipped to a board,
and they wrote, as if on a ceiling above them. My time was spent commuting between the two wards of boys. A regular occurance, was to return to one of the wards to find half of the pencils on the floor, they had accidently dropped; just one of the many tricks they got up to, to avoid work. I well remember having to reproach one boy who was recovering from a tubercular knee, for perpetual straying outside the bedcloths while doing his sums. One day after oe episode,
and having tuckeed him back in bed, I said "come along Robert on with your work", to which he replied " I can't Miss, I only have ten fingers." He had been using his toes to help him, and without them he was helpless.
Outside school hours some of the teachers helped two eveneings a week, to run
a childrens club and Guides.
School at Kensington Hospital, was for me truly a place of learning, a place where I was destined to teach, but where I learned. The benifits I derived were inumerable, Courage,fortitude, Sympathy, Understanding, were just a few of the lessons I learned. This was undoubtedly an experience which no amount of education could have given me, it also made me eternally thankful for the good health of my three children.
Tuesday 25 November 2008
Monday 24 November 2008
KENSINGTON HOSPITAL MEMORIES BY GORDON REES
The following extracts by Vernon Scott ex correspondant of The Western Telegraph in Pembrokeshire recalls the experiences of ex patient of Kensington Hospital Gordon Rees who was a patient there from 1935 to 1947.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I have received a most moving and interesting letter from Mr.Gordon R ees of Leeds who spent all his childhood at the former children's hospital, Kensington
Hospital, St. Brides.
At the age of two, this Llanelli-born gentleman contracted bovine tuberculosis in his left ankle, as a result of drinking raw,unpasturised milk, and was admitted to Kensington Hospital. When he left there in 1947, he was twelve years old, but points out that lengthy stays in sanatoriums were not unusual in those pre-antibiotic days. By the time of his departure, another boy, David Evans, had been there for 17 years. Mr.Rees writes:
"Please allow me to relate a little about that time at St.Brides, because I know there are former staff and patients, still living in Pembrokeshire, who shared my years there. Those of us who were able, played cricket in the grounds during summer, including Charlie Weatherall, now of St.Ishmaels. To us kids he could hit a cricket ball harder and farther than great batsmen of the time, such as Jack Hobbs and Wally Hammond.
Charlie was already in his teens, and older than the other patients, when he came to St.Bride's. So endemic was TB in those days, I don't think there was any room for him at the adult sanatorium at Sealyham. But their loss was our gain. I have metmany fine people in my life, but Charlie is second to none."
Despite the hardship of the war,Christmas was always a colourful occasion at the hospital, recalls Mr.Rees. " There was always a large tree, with a foot-high effigy of a paratrooper on top, instead of the traditional fairy. To this day I remember the consternation of one patient, when he learned the paratrooper was to be 'demobilised'. A nurse gently told him the war was over, and the fairy would be returning to the treetop. The little lad was clearly upset, and asked tearfully "Then can we have the war back.".
" I have never forgotten the kindness shown gto us by the German prisoners of war, who all happened to be former memebers of General Rommel's Afrika Corps. They were employed in the hospital grounds. Comics of the day avidly read, depicted enemy soldiers as the most vile of human beings, but those men were kindness itself, regularly bringing us strawberries, goosberries, and other goodies from the hospital gardens.
There were many fine nurses at Kensington Hospital, none more so than a girl called Margaret, who later became Mrs. Wrench, and a well known councillor in Pembroke. She was also the Mayor of that borough. For sheer goodness I never met anyone to touch her, and we were all heartbroken, when she eventually left. The head of the nursing staff was Sister Gwen Hill, who retired to Pembroke Dock. Often after a long and exacting day, she would stay an extra hour to read us a bed time story."
"There were ", says Mr.Rees " some sad occasions at Kensington Hospital." The children who died had TB of the lungs. All of us knew the significance of the hearse coming up that long drive."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I have received a most moving and interesting letter from Mr.Gordon R ees of Leeds who spent all his childhood at the former children's hospital, Kensington
Hospital, St. Brides.
At the age of two, this Llanelli-born gentleman contracted bovine tuberculosis in his left ankle, as a result of drinking raw,unpasturised milk, and was admitted to Kensington Hospital. When he left there in 1947, he was twelve years old, but points out that lengthy stays in sanatoriums were not unusual in those pre-antibiotic days. By the time of his departure, another boy, David Evans, had been there for 17 years. Mr.Rees writes:
"Please allow me to relate a little about that time at St.Brides, because I know there are former staff and patients, still living in Pembrokeshire, who shared my years there. Those of us who were able, played cricket in the grounds during summer, including Charlie Weatherall, now of St.Ishmaels. To us kids he could hit a cricket ball harder and farther than great batsmen of the time, such as Jack Hobbs and Wally Hammond.
Charlie was already in his teens, and older than the other patients, when he came to St.Bride's. So endemic was TB in those days, I don't think there was any room for him at the adult sanatorium at Sealyham. But their loss was our gain. I have metmany fine people in my life, but Charlie is second to none."
Despite the hardship of the war,Christmas was always a colourful occasion at the hospital, recalls Mr.Rees. " There was always a large tree, with a foot-high effigy of a paratrooper on top, instead of the traditional fairy. To this day I remember the consternation of one patient, when he learned the paratrooper was to be 'demobilised'. A nurse gently told him the war was over, and the fairy would be returning to the treetop. The little lad was clearly upset, and asked tearfully "Then can we have the war back.".
" I have never forgotten the kindness shown gto us by the German prisoners of war, who all happened to be former memebers of General Rommel's Afrika Corps. They were employed in the hospital grounds. Comics of the day avidly read, depicted enemy soldiers as the most vile of human beings, but those men were kindness itself, regularly bringing us strawberries, goosberries, and other goodies from the hospital gardens.
There were many fine nurses at Kensington Hospital, none more so than a girl called Margaret, who later became Mrs. Wrench, and a well known councillor in Pembroke. She was also the Mayor of that borough. For sheer goodness I never met anyone to touch her, and we were all heartbroken, when she eventually left. The head of the nursing staff was Sister Gwen Hill, who retired to Pembroke Dock. Often after a long and exacting day, she would stay an extra hour to read us a bed time story."
"There were ", says Mr.Rees " some sad occasions at Kensington Hospital." The children who died had TB of the lungs. All of us knew the significance of the hearse coming up that long drive."
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