Martin House response to Cynthia

Cynthia says thank you to all who attended her book launch

Hi everyone I thought you may be interested to know that the book launch was a huge success. The food was good, the company excellent, and we achieved far more than we ever expected by way of remunerations for Martin House. A big thank you to all those of you who contributed either by writing your memories or by bringing raffle prizes. Many of you on the blog were unable to participate in the work as I was reluctant to steal Jane's thunder. However I'm sure she will have things up her sleeve which will need your participation. Watch this space.

We have almost sold out of books so without another print run it will soon be the end of a two year project. It's been great fun...most of the time and I have met some wonderful people I would never otherwise have known. I need to say a very big thank you to Fred Dubber for all his help and cooperation, and Jane for allowing me to use the blog to advertise my work. You may like to know that the book has now reached around the world! There are copies in Australia, New Zealand, Canada and Germany, and throughout the UK. This was something I had never anticipated. I have just received an email this morning from Harry Dodgson,in Australia a contributor to the book who wants a further three copies sending over for people in his writing group. Martin House Hospice for children accepted a cheque for £566 and there will be more to add shortly.At least now Marguerite hospital will not be forgotten in a hurry.

Thanks again.

Cynthia.

See the article in the Wetherby News

At the Pax Inn Book Launch

Christine Crooks nee Clarke a Volunteer at MHH during 1981-82

I’ve just been looking at your website, I had been talking to a friend on Facebook about when I used to live and work as a volunteer at Marguerite Hepton Hospital and it prompted me to go and look online to see if there was anything about the hospital and I came across your site.

I was there from September 1981 until January 1982, then moved back to the North East. I really enjoyed my time there; I still have a couple of photos of me with some of the nurses there.

Maureen, Eve, Christine, unknown

Maureen, Eve, Chris Weightman, unknown

I’ve been able to remember some of the staff though mostly just 1st names, the nurses I can remember are:-

Christine Weightman (know as big Chris and I was little Chris!! probably sounded better than old and young Chris)

Carol Drake

Pam (possibly Monks)

Judy

Maureen

Karen

I think Sister was called Woof!! For some reason that name is springing to mind but cant be 100% sure and I can remember Jerry Appleyard.

One of the domestics was Eve but can’t think of the other ones name.

We always used to be on the same shifts together all the time, so can’t remember any of the nurses who worked the times we were not there as we used to just see each other at change over time.

The other volunteer was called Carol she arrived a couple of days after me, she was from Durham.

I have had another look at the plans on the website and by time I worked there ward 3/4 was the women's ward and ward 1 was men's.

Next to the hospital was a home/school which I think was for bad boys, plus a bit further down on the other side of the road was an open prison.

Her is a bit on how I ended up at MHH

I left school in April 1981 and saw an advert on tv for community service volunteers, so I got in touch with them and went for an interview and discussed what sort of work I would like to do, they then found a place for you to go and work, and I got to go to Marguerite Hepton Hospital.

I started in Sept 1981, I had arrived there on a Friday feeling bit nervous at the thought of starting my 1st job and living away from home, I needn't of worried though as everyone made me welcome, especially Chris Weightman, who the 1st weekend I was there took me to stay at her house so I wouldn’t be at the nurses home all by myself as Carol wasn’t arriving until the Monday (there was only me and carol and one other person who lived there but the weekend I arrived the other person was away for the weekend)

The plan when I got there on the Friday was to be shown around, have the weekend to settle in them start work on the Monday. I got picked up from Wetherby bus station and taken to the hospital; they showed me around etc and met those I would be working with. As I was there first they asked if I wanted to be on the women’s or men’s ward, I opted for the women’s as we had spent more time looking around and talking to staff there (though I did end up occasionally helping on the men’s ward if they were short staffed). I was left on women’s ward to chat to staff and they said rather than me being alone on the weekend did I want to go in and help out to give me something to do which I did as I think it would of been awful being by myself in nurses home all weekend.

I loved it straight away, staff and patients were great, though they had a job at first understanding my geordie accent!! Most of the patients were old people but we did used to get a few young ones in. As the patients were sent from St James to recover from ops etc they were usually with us quite a while, so even though we were pleased when they were finally discharged it was still sad to see them go. I wrote to one of the patients for a few years after I left then I got a letter from her daughter to say she had died.

The types of jobs my volunteering entailed were

make the beds,

feed the patients if they needed help,

assist patients to toilet

help with bathing patients in bathroom also with bed baths

help staff when changing dressings.

I also used to do some shopping for the patients in Wetherby on my days off.

I’ve found one photo of me in the grounds at the back and you can see the same wooden toy in the background that is in one of the photos on your site!

Pity I didn’t have any more photos of the actual buildings, I saw the photo of the nurses home and saw my old bedroom, it was the end room on the right on the top floor, I think the photo of me and Carol was taken at the doors of nurses home. (Christine is in the cloak)

I really enjoyed my few months at the hospital, my placement there was only for 6-12 months but I left early because my mother was unwell so had to go back home to Northumberland.

Colin Welbourn has even more thoughts

I have had a long read through all the entries on the site – there is certainly a lot to read – and I have just a few miscellaneous thoughts and observations which may be of interest.

First of all I have found the only photograph of me at MHMO. I am on the big boys ward and it is obvious that it was taken on visiting day. You will see I am in mobile traction and so it is to the end of my stay and I can’t be sure whether it is in the late summer of 1946 or around May in 1947 as I don’t know how long that period of treatment lasted. I had yet to learn to walk and as I went home in mid July 1947 it can’t be later than say June of that year. I don’t know for certain who the chap in the next bed in the foreground is, it is probably John Schofield but I can’t be sure. Our parents became good friends and I met up with John a few times after I left Thorp Arch. The boy on the other side looks as though he has a fretsaw at his shoulder. We used to do fretwork as one of our leisure activities, I remember sawing out model beds for a large model of the hospital which was being made for an exhibition of some sort.

In the background there is quite a good view of the small boys ward, with the sunblinds down.

I was very interested in the photograph in Fred’s photostream, number Robin 4-1. As it was taken in 1946 I will be in the picture, but I am not sure if I can identify myself but I rather think I am the boy in the bed behind the man. Incidentally, I can’t recollect a male teacher being on the scene at any time and I think that this is the local vicar from Thorp Arch who came to see us about once a fortnight. His black clothes support this theory quite well.

I loved Judith’s drawing of the small boys ward. Although it is the drawing of a child, it is amazingly correct according to my memory and it stirred more memories in my mind. I had completely forgotten about the fans. The fans blew cold air in summer and warm air in winter and you can see the supply pipes in the drawing. The pipes were suspended from the ceiling and we constantly tried to get paper aeroplanes to fly over them. One other thing we did was to roll up a comic, fold it in half and tie it on a piece of string. We would then throw the comic over the pipe, tying the other end of the string to our bed and we could then have a game of tennis using a book as a racquet – a sort of vertical swingball!

The bricked area at the end of the ward had a central corridor running through it with three rooms on either side – again correctly depicted with the three windows on Judith’s drawing. You can see these windows in the background of the photo ‘Malcolm in Thorp Arch 59/60’. On the front of the building the room next to the ward was the nurses’ office – it had an internal window overlooking the ward so that they could keep an eye on us, although there was a blind which was pulled down at night so that the ward was kept in darkness. Next to that was the treatment room where we were taken for our baths and for the dreaded changing of extensions. The room at the end was, I think, an isolation room. I know that we had one boy – I don’t know if it is right to give his name - who had TB and it got the better of him and he died in that room. Nothing was said to us but the undertaker took him away late in the evening, probably to avoid any distress to us, but several of us saw it all, I don’t think much escaped our eyes!

On the other side of the corridor was a store room, the sluice, and I think, the kitchen.

Douglas Quarmby’s entry is particularly interesting as our stays crossed but our ages are such that we never met as Douglas would have been in the big boys ward when I was admitted to MHMO and he would have left before I moved up from the small boys ward. The wartime hostilities had turned in our favour when I was admitted, and we never saw any enemy action but the aircraft in the sky and barrage balloons are all very familiar.

Douglas recalls a girl who didn’t have any visitors and I also recollect a boy – I won’t name him, who didn’t have any visitors either. Visiting parents would often give him something and have a chat with him but it can’t have been much of a consolation. A nun visited him periodically and she sat very quietly by his bed whilst we wondered just what was going on. Obviously the lad was a Catholic but we knew nothing about the differing religions, something we probably had to learn about once we were home and back to school.

Some other recollections of the various activities we got up to. We were all interested in nature subjects and were quite keen birdwatchers. The sparrows were quite tame and would perch on the end of the bed from time to time. I remember the teachers bringing a bat in for us to see and also a mole. One of the activities we went through was a phase of breeding butterflies. We had a box–shaped frame covered in muslin with a large hole in the bottom which allowed it to pass over a jar of water holding the plants on which the caterpillars fed. We bought the caterpillars of privet hawk moths by mail order and watched them go through the chrysalis stage into moths, which we duly released.

My pal and I also had a go at bee keeping, or so we thought, but in fact I think that they were mostly wasps! We made an intricate cage from cornflake packets and we caught the wasps with a trap made from Meccano. We fed them on jam from our sandwiches, but after a couple of days they got extremely angry and we had to keep cementing holes up as they ate the cage away. A nurse found them and promptly dropped them in the fire bucket and that was the end of that experiment!

There are mentions of patients being taken from MHMO for surgery, but I remember operations being carried out there. They were carried out on Saturday mornings, we waited for the surgeon – generally Mr Broomhead – to arrive and the atmosphere was always very subdued that day. The operating theatre was in the admin building along with the general office and the matron’s office. We could smell the anaesthetic, which scared us and we were always told to be very quiet.

There was a library trolley on the big boys ward and for a time it was kept next to my bed. I had the run of it and I became a bit of a bookworm and was always sneaking a book from it to read at night. I found the books written by Arthur Ransome and became an ardent fan as I have always loved boats and boating.

One mystery to which I would love to know the answer was that every Sunday afternoon at either two or three o’clock, two very old double-decker buses went by the hospital. We waited for these and gave them a wild cheer when they passed. They were always empty and always seemed to be going at quite a speed away from Boston Spa. They returned, I think, around six. We never found out where they were going and what for and I would still love to know!

I went back to the hospital, I think it was around 1998. I stood at the top of the drive, looking at the buildings. Not a lot had changed, the ward buildings all seemed very familiar although the flat roof on the small boys ward had been replaced with a conventional pitched roof. It was eerily quiet, there were no cries and shouts from children as it was now a nursing home. I couldn’t bring myself to go any further and just walked away taking my memories with me. I am glad that I saw it before it was demolished as I had spent such a great part of my formative years in there and I would have been sad to find out that it had all been torn down without my having the opportunity to see it for just one more time.

Finally, I remember the prayer we said each day at the end of school. The words are:

Lord keep us safe this night
Secure from all our fears
May angels guide us while we sleep
Till morning light appears.

It’s childish, I know, but I still use it!

Michelle Jones (neé Jackson) remembers Thorp Arch girls' ward in 1971

My name is Michelle Jones. At the age of 10 in 1971 (Easter Saturday to be exact) I broke my femur. After 2 weeks in St James's Leeds I was shipped out to MHH and stayed there for the next 5 months. 4 of those months I was on traction and therefore confined to a wooden cot like bed.
I can remember the girls' ward at that time seemed to be directly next to the operating theatres. There were only around 5 or 6 of us in the ward at the time. 3 of my companions seemed to be there long term. One was a girl of about 18 who in retrospect had some sort of brain tumour. Another was a nice girl called Laraine Henshaw (I think) who had some neurological wasting disease which affected her speech as well as her mobility and then there was Karen Henry, a mixed race girl who must have had congenital dislocating hips and was on bed rest. I remember being wheeled out on to the veranda as it was summer time and we had 2 nice ladies who came to give us lessons. We had a record player and TV and lots of comics and books so even though I was desperate to go home there was lots to occupy me. I can remember the summer fayre that was held there every year and Karen was chosen to the the "queen" and got to wear a tiara and cloak. Once I was off traction I had to undergo painful and scary physio from a very strict lady whose name I can't remember but I went twice a day and she used to shout at me when I couldn't walk to her satisfaction. I enjoyed going in the hydro pool though.
The highlight was the weekends when mum and dad were allowed to visit and they'd bring a my sister and school friends to come and see me. We had permanent staff there but student nurses from Seacroft hospital used to come for around a month at a time. I can remember getting very attached to one young nurse but I can't remember her name. There was a particular staff nurse who seemed to work every night who was very strict with us all.
I once went back to the grounds after the hospital closed and all the buildings were still there but obviously deserted. It was very weird. My stay there seemed to go on forever and it had a huge impact on my life as I was growing up. I don't know why I suddenly decided to google MHH but have found the pieces people have written and photos fascinating and wish there were more people who were around in the early 70's when I was there. I was called Jackson then and my Dad, Charlie, used to go round to the boys ward and talk to all the kids there and make them laugh.
I have now been a physio myself for the past 25 years and sort of understand now why the physio then was so hard on me!
If anyone wishes to contact me I can be found at michelle@mrandmrsjones.net
28 June 2010 16:56

Cynthia publishes a history of MHH and invites you to its book launch

Book cover

Should you wish to buy a copy of Cynthia's book (£10 plus p&p) she can be contacted via this blog's email address.

Cynthia's Invitation

Dear All,

I do hope that you will be able to come to the launch of the book, ‘Good Food, Rest, and Plenty of Fresh Air’ at the Pax Inn, Thorp Arch on July 15^th at 11am to 2.30pm to meet up with other friends and contributors to the book. Please feel free to bring your spouse or a friend!

It would be good to arrive before midday, a buffet lunch (menu enclosed) will be available to purchase from 1pm if you require. Amanda Carter will be present to represent Martin House Children’s Hospice and receive the first cheque for the Hospice from sales of the book and I have invited a reporter from the Wetherby News to take a photograph. Should you have anything suitable for a raffle prize it would be gratefully received, again to go to help the Hospice.

Jane Freeland, who organises the MHMH online blog along with Fred Dubber, also intends to be present.

I am looking forward to seeing you and having a good old natter!

Many grateful thanks for your participation.

Kind regards,

Cynthia (Coultas)

Location

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MHH site using Google's Street View

Jane has suggested that we add a link so that you may browse around the site of the former hospital using Google's Street View. I found attaching Google Map's page directly on to the blog complicated the Street View option so I opted for this link instead.

Google Maps link

For those of you unfamiliar with Street View follow these simple instructions:-

1. Click on and hold mouse button down onto the yellow figure on the top left.

2. Drag the yellow figure to the place you would like to view part of the scene from at street level. (note: you may only view the scene from within the blue lines appearing along the roads as you move the yellow figure around.)

3. Use the left and right arrow icons to rotate the scene and the + and - options to zoom in or out.

4. The aerial view in the bottom right corner shows the direction you are looking in, via the green pointer below the yellow man.

For those of you interested in Potternewton Special School here is another Street View image

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Brian Todd tells of his time in MHH during 1954

I have just found your web sight for Marguerite Hepton Hospital, I was also a former patient at Thorp Arch Hospital during 1954 for approx 6 mths, I was also there a couple of years earlier but can't remember the dates. My consulting Surgeons were Mr Clark and Mr Pain,(not both at the same time.) I will always remember Mr Clark as he used to park his Jaguar near the ambulance bay at Leeds General Infirmary, It was racing green , and I have had a thing for Jaguars ever since.

I was in Thorp Arch both times for Osteomylitis in my left knee and had to wear a Thomas splint for most of the time.

After my second stint in hospital I was put into a caliper and had to wear that for quite few years, After leaving hospital I had to go to a Special School for the disabled, that was my first Introduction to Potternewton Mansion School. Mr Tempest (Teacher) Mr Wiggins (Physio) Ms Hearfield (Headmistress). I also remember some of the students like Tommy Swindles, Joyce Parker and Winnie Megson, I sometimes wonder what they are doing these days. I also became a Boy Scout while at the school and Mr Tempest was our Scout Master. Myself and three more of our scout troop went to a Jamboree for disabled scouts (an Agoonoree) at Gillwell Park, somewhere in the south of England in approx 1956 or 57.

When the Caliper finally came of after a few years my left leg had completely stiffened up, so Mr Pain decided to do what he called a Tendon Transplant, He had never done one before but had seen them done so after much discussion we decided to go ahead, Thankfully it was successful.

I am now 67 years old living in Queensland, Australia. and had to have an Arthrodeses on my left knee due to Osteo-Arthritis, so after all these years my left leg is permanently stiff again.

Going back to my recollections at the hospital, I don't remember many names except for Winnie Megson (whom I later got to know at Potternewton Mansion School) also a girl named Nancy both on the girls ward across the road. I also remember two of the nurses names they were nurse Whitehead and nurse Foxcroft, there was also a nurse we used to call Marilyn after (Marilyn Monroe) she was a very attractive blond nurse, I remember I used to give her my pillow when she was on night duty so she could get some rest, When I became more mobile I used to go into what I believe was the treatment room and roll bandages on a funny wooden frame.

I have just seen a photograph (mwward2jpg) on your web sight, and after looking at old photo's and speaking to my mother, I believe the boy third from the far end on the right side of the photo is me. (Brian Todd). We also had entertainment I think you had just got your first Television, I also remember a dark coloured trio called the Mills Brothers, and also sometime later I believe there was a cowboy on horseback who used to sing and play the guitar. In fact looking back, for me thing's weren't all that bad in hospital.

Its amazing what you find out by asking your parents questions, It seems my Grandmother on my dads side (dad's mother) first went into service at the age of about 13yrs old as a kitchen hand at the Heptons residence. When she saw the name of the Hospital when she first came to visit me, she said that lady taught me how to bake, My grandma was so small when she first started her service there she could not reach onto the bench to knead the bread, so the bowl was put on the floor.

Her name was Sarah Maria Grinrod and she started work there between 1893 & 1895 approx.

Douglas Quarmby's memories of MHMOH 1939 to 1945

I have read with interest the various accounts of ex patients of MHMOH which became their home not by choice but a valued necessity for I too was a patient there with spinal TB in the years 1939 - 1945 - the war years. Thoughts and memories crowd my mind some sad and some glad in that period of my life which affects me to this day. A lump had started to appear on my spine when I was five in ‘39, thought to be the result of a fall from a tree in a coppice in a little village called Clifton a year earlier. The doctor, a Dr Heseltine, diagnosed TB of the spine and I became a patient of the Marguerite Hepton Memorial Orthopaedic Hospital. Although I was approximately six years there, I haven't many visual memories structure wise of the hospital as I was supine in a half plaster cast with a mirror above my head to view around. No doubt the cast would be changed as I grew. I do remember the avenue of trees so colourful in the autumn and the sunny days outside on the terrace. It’s strange but I cannot see any wet days in my memory or the pain I must have gone through, just an acceptance, a boy who knew of nothing else but that present time. Over the span of time I was in hospital my body was subjected to various ailments as the disease progressed. Boils on my back to be burst through the application of linen boiled in a cloth, the water wrung out then hot the linen applied to the ripe heads, near mastoids in the ear and a stay in Killingbeck hospital when I caught Scarlet Fever. There was no quick remedy for TB and no antibiotics at that time.

A year before I came home a decision was made to operate which required my parents blessing as its success rate was 50%. The surgeon who performed the operation was a Mr Payne, a wonderful consultant and very strict (my mother would tell me afterward). I think the operation was done in Leeds and can still remember the pad and chloroform being put on my face. When I think back, I have nothing but respect and admiration for Mr Payne. He cut away the diseased bone of my spine around the spinal cord and replaced it with fresh bone from my left shin to make a new vertebra. He certainly saved my life.

Various incidents do spring to mind whilst at MHMOH, as being the war years I remember the dog fights high in the sky in daylight, (the airfield at Church Fenton was not far away), planes circling beyond the trees trying to bomb the underground munitions bunkers across the road. Of boys from an approved school going round picking up the shrapnel after the all clear.

Not all raids, however, were done in daylight, for many a night we would be pushed in our beds to wooden huts away from the hospital in case the hospital was hit during a night raid. On one occasion a cone shaped fire extinguisher fell of its hook due to the explosions and landed on a bed, was activated and soaked the poor lad under it. Though it was dark I could see the sister or nurse, a cape over her shoulder, a silhouette in the doorway lit up by flashes, on guard, an assurance to our young minds all would be well.

On good days we enjoyed the sunlit air away from cover of the veranda, the sun lighting up the silver barrage balloons, one occasionally drifting off as it broke free of its moorings. From the mirror above my head I watched my father climb the steps to the entrance to disappear then to re-appear at my bedside. Dad was exempt from doing national service because of his job as a lorry driver at Walker Bros in Brighouse. Those times were special as it was midweek and he had managed to make time to visit me. Normal visiting was once a fortnight and on a weekend, travelling by bus from Clifton to Leeds then by train to Boston Spa in all weathers and maybe having only ten minutes of visiting time left.

Being a lorry driver, Dad had contacts and knew where to buy toys difficult to get hold of. A dye cast searchlight I would shine on the ceiling in the night. Black faced luminous watches would glow under the sheets; I had quite a few of them over the period I was there, for as, even with the searchlight, they seemed to ‘disappear’.

One particular and fond memory I have of my stay at the hospital concerned a little girl called Ruth Tutin who never seemed to receive any visitors. Like me she was fitted with a half plaster cast and a mirror above her head and most times she would remain unnoticed, alone in a corner under the veranda. This concerned Dad and Mum who upon enquiring why she was aside out of the way and not with the others outside, would be told ‘she has been naughty, soiled herself’. ‘Poor beggar, bring her outside with the others’ dad would say, and made sure she received a present on visiting days along with a bit of TLC. Ruth would often call father ‘Dad’ and many is the time I wondered what became of her when I came home in February 1945. Dad did make a few discreet enquiries later, and heard she had gone down south.

I am now in my 76th year. My spine bears the scars of a time when there was little technology as we know it today but the skill was there. My doctor said later, had penicillin been available then, the possibility of a cure in six months was not beyond the bounds of probability and I would have been taller. Losing 3ins in height has suppressed the capacity of the lungs making me short winded at times, but I count my blessing over and over that I have led an active life and still do God willing.

The breathing exercises I was advised to do long ago have come naturally with singing. Singing to His glory in church and concert platform and oratorio works.

Looking back I cannot thank the staff at MHMOH enough for their dedication and care. The love and devotion my parents gave to me is ever before me as I reach the eventide of life. Marriage to a loving wife and the added blessings of children, grandchildren and great grandchildren is living testimony to their dedication.

Think of me when you are happy, keep for me one tender spot. In the depth of your affection, plant me one for-get-me-not.

The seed was sown long ago.

Christmas Present

Around this time last year Jane added a post wishing everyone Seasonal greetings so I guess this time it is my turn. But first a confession, Jane added a photo of Father Christmas which I had offered to her for the blog but it was not a photo taken of the real Father Christmas. It was in fact my neighbour, a local artist, who was kind enough to add beard, red suit and a significant amount of padding to entertain the children at our village primary school. I took his photo en route (but not really passing the reindeer). This year he has very kindly made an appropriate contribution of his own to add to our blog in the form of the above seasonal painting.

Since adding a counter to the blog last February we have had over 13000 hits which gives us something of a warm feeling, knowing that so many of you are taking an interest. We haven't had much to add in the last couple of months but then we had a similar lull this time last year. So if you have anything to tell us about your MHH experiences we would love to hear from you, perhaps after you have got over the coming festivities.

But for now a very happy Christmas and very healthy and perhaps wealthy new year wishes too you all.

PS If you would like to see more of Eugene Conway's work visit his web site at www.imagefromthevillage.co.uk My apologies for the shameless advertising!

Christmas Past

At this time of year I often have brief glimpses of Christmas in MHH, I had three Christmases there but time and my memory of almost 60 years ago have turned them all into one.

It is funny but the things I should remember which must have occurred such as Father Christmas and Carol singers stir the grey matter not one bit. The things I do remember include a Christmas tree (or trees?) being brought in to the ward and being dressed, paper chains being made and other decorations being hung around the walls and Disney characters being stuck on the many windows.

We prepared for a nativity play, dress rehearsal involved, in my case, brown face paint and a small wicker basket of oranges, one of which I was afterwards allowed to keep. I don’t remember tea towels, or any other dressing up nor the performance we must have given or to whom we gave it, but I suspect it may have been our parents during Saturday visiting.

One evening we were wrapped up and wheeled, in our beds, across to the big girls ward where the hospital staff put on a pantomime. I don’t remember what the pantomime was; just a couple on stage singing “Walking my Baby Back Home” and “How Much is that Doggie in the Window”. Strange how those two tunes have stayed with me for so long. Maybe because they were the first songs I had ever heard performed live. However neither song is much help in trying to work out what the pantomime was!

Another piece of entertainment we had was a conjurer and the one trick that stays with me, mystified me, and come to think of it still does, is the interlocking of solid metal rings. There must have been many others but they have all disappeared into the fog of my memory.

But I suppose the most lasting impression had to be the presents we found on and around our beds on Christmas morning. As well as those received from home there was always a collection from anonymous benefactors and to this day I don’t know where they came from. I’m guessing they were donated from local charitable organisations and friends of the hospital. I do remember wondering how they came to be on my bed but the thought was lost in the excitement of opening them all. 60 years on I guess it is too late to say thank you but perhaps the knowledge that they had made lots of children very happy was thanks enough.

I don’t ever remember feeling sorry for myself not being home for Christmas such was the efforts and dedication of all the hospital staff to keep us all happy and I can only say that at least in my case they all succeeded splendidly.

We would love to hear of any Christmas memories you may have of MHH.

An addition to Fred's search for Thorp Arch Grange

It seems many of us have tried like Fred to find the old hospital building, though not with such scientific care – thanks Fred. It’s also good to have more information about what has happened to Potternewton Mansion School, Leeds. Many contributors to the blog have good memories of this place - it obviously did a very good job of helping kids back into normal school life. As someone who got plunged in very much at the deep end, I must say I've envied their experience.

What Fred writes about his search for Thorp Arch Grange reminded me of a very interesting document I found while googling some years ago – after failing to locate anything resembling the hospital on a trip to Newcastle. This is a Thorp Arch Village Plan, apparently approved in 2004. It seems to be used still as the basis for planning decisions. I’ve often thought of putting some extracts from it onto the blog, so now seems a good moment.

The plan starts with a history of the village, going right back to the Domesday book. It has pictures, too. The whole document shows clearly how the places and buildings we all knew have been adapted to new uses, and partially or wholly disappeared in the process. No wonder it’s hard to find anything!

About Thorp Arch Grange it says: “A new boarding school for young gentlemen [!!] was built at Thorp Arch Grange in the 1840s. The school later went through a number of uses until it eventually came under the control of Leeds City Council and was used for young people in local authority care. It was then sold to a builder who developed it as office accommodation. Leeds United Football Club became interested in the playing fields in 1993 and bought Thorp Arch Grange to create their football academy.”

I wonder what purpose it serves now - is it still the football academy? and who the new “driveway owner” is that Fred mentions.

The history section of the plan also mentions the Ordnance Factory that comes up in so many contributions to the blog: “Of the 13 ordnance factories built during the war, Thorp Arch is the only one where buildings and blast berms can still be preserved as a historical site. The site was used to store surplus war material between 1945 and 1950 and reopened for munitions manufacture during the Korean War (1950-53). After that war the site was partly decontaminated. A local entrepreneur bought the site in the early 1960s and developed the Trading Estate and the Buywell shopping centre. The site, now employing some 2500 staff in 90–100 commercial enterprises, is currently owned by Hanover Properties who plan further development including up to 1500 new homes, subject to planning consent. The National Lending Library for Science and Technology occupied part of the site, in Walton parish, in the 1960s. It became the Lending Division of the British Library in 1973, steadily growing and now employing some 2000 staff. It, too, is looking to expand its floorspace.

“In 1950, near the main entrance to the munitions factory, a remand centre was
built to house about 200 young offenders; a third wing was added in 1980 to house
a further 100. It was converted into a Category C prison for adults in 1988 and a fourth wing added in 1996. In 1995, the Thorp Arch Category C prison and the
open Rudgate Category D prison next to it were merged to form Wealstun Prison. It
now holds 750 inmates and there are expansion plans to increase the number to 892”.


There are two pictures of these changes, showing the “Thorp Arch trading estate new buildings” and “evidence of historic ordnance factory". Unfortunately, I can't add them to this posting, as I don't know how to save them in a suitable format for the picture-adding facility!

Finally, it has this to say about “The Marguerite Hepton Memorial Home”.
“Mr Arthur Hepton provided the site for the Memorial Home to the Leeds Invalid children’s Society in gratitude at the recovery of his daughter, Marguerite, from
tuberculosis. Opened in 1910 as a home for up to twenty children with tubercular
related orthopedic problems, by 1942 it accommodated 80 children and thirty
seven staff. Its final use was as an old people’s home and a children’s nursery.
The owner closed it in about 2000 because it was claimed to be uneconomic.
In 2003, following an appeal against refusal of planning permission, the Public
Inquiry Inspector found in favour of the developer and allowed development of 7
flats and 55 houses on the site”.

The whole report is worth a look - especially for the pictures! It can be seen still on the Internet, on the Leeds local government site at: http://www.leeds.gov.uk/files/2005/week20/inter__1d21e022-e7bd-4d28-bdcb-19d168189d65_538d8f76-a1aa-497b-bf6b-22105f86973b.pdf

The simplest way in is to google for “Thorp Arch Parish Plan”. About 8 options down the list comes ‘Village Design Statement’ which leads you to the document.

In search of the Hospital site

On a recent trip to Leeds I decided to take time out to attempt to find the original location for the hospital. But what is there to go on? My starting point was Jane’s photograph of her being given a ‘lesson’ by one of the nursing staff. In its background is the building thought to be the “Thorp Arch Approved School” now known as Thorp Arch Grange.

The building has a unique square tower which I assumed, should it still exist, would be somewhere between Walton and Thorp Arch. Google maps gave me a lead producing a satellite image of a large building which from close observation of the shadow a square tower looked possible. Just to the north is Walton Chase, a likely contender for MHH driveway.

Google Maps link

So one sunny afternoon I found myself on the Walton to Thorp Arch road where Thorp Arch Grange came into view together with the very tower I was looking for. I drove into its entrance marked with signs stating “Private Road” “no public access”, Not the most welcoming but the aspect of the building did not match the photograph of Jane’s so there was no need to linger.

Travelling back towards Walton I took the first turn left into Walton Chase, a cul-de-sac with fairly modern housing. I stopped at a point where I estimated I would have a view of the tower similar to the one in the picture but sadly the whole of the grange was obscured by trees. Moving further along the cul-de-sac the Grange came clearly into view. As the neighbourhood was very quiet and devoid of people I parked my car, blocking a driveway, and took a photo of the Grange. At that very moment the driveway owner returned from the school run and my parked car and me apparently taking photos of his property did little to improve his mood. Fortunately my apologies and explanation seemed to be enough to remove his suspicions and he promised to have a look at our blog as our history has now become part of his too.

Looking at the Grange from this angle didn’t quite match Janes photo but then I had moved further round the top of the building looking from further west.

Driving back towards the main road I became aware that the cul-de-sac is very probably located where the hospital drive used to be. Sadly there is no longer a row of chestnut trees along its borders.

An afterthought: I came back to this posting to check out the "Google Maps Link" and found another unnamed entry just above Walton Chase. A case of I couldn't see the wood for the trees? This one is tree lined and leaves me wondering if it could have been the hospital driveway. Pity I never thought to look further along Walton Road when I had the opportunity.

The following day after my success at finding MHH I decided to visit Potternewton Mansion School in Leeds. This was a school that a number of ex-patients were transferred to prior to resuming normal school life. This proved much easier to find and I recognised the building relatively quickly. It hasn’t withstood the ravages of time very well but is still a school, now operated by a sikh organisation. I would have tried to enter but it was closed up.

There is a plaque mounted on the wall overlooking the park telling something of its history.

The building is now surrounded with by heavy metal railings and has vandal proof mesh over its windows. Gone is the virginia creeper covering the walls where I watched a blackbird make a nest, hatch and rear its brood all from the first floor class room window. Also gone is access to the park that was the school playground. A really sad place to visit actually but it did bring to mind some fellow pupils from 1953. I wonder where Linda Tate, Georgie Howland and Ann Spence are today?

Colin Welbourne's further recollections

First, now that I come to think of it, at times there were some other girls on the ward we called ‘The Small Boys Ward’ although I seem to recollect that girls were on the ward infrequently and most of the time it was just boys. I always thought it was through lack of space on the girls ward, but I don’t know – maybe, as there was no ‘small girls ward’ any young girls were admitted to the boys ward until they were old enough for the girls ward. I can remember a girl called Pauline on the ward. The handyman – I think his name was Mr Bennett – made her a beautiful toy shop – a greengrocers – and I can remember him presenting it to her – obviously he had a soft spot for her. We all wanted one of course, but he didn’t make any more.

Like Ian’s mum’s note in an earlier entry, my Perthes started with ‘leg ache’. By the time I was five the medical people had finally diagnosed the problem but it had taken an awful long time and many x-rays for them to reach this conclusion and I didn’t know what was happening – all I knew was that I got ‘leg ache’ after I had walked a short distance. I can vividly recollect standing on the railway station on a January morning in 1943 with my father who was taking me to Leeds. I was five years old and thought I was having a day off school. He took me to the infirmary and after some chatting I was put in a cot and my father left me, saying he would see me soon, but the ‘soon’ turned out to be a long time.

After a couple of weeks in LGI, and some more x-rays, I was transferred to a hospital on the moors at Otley. It overlooked a valley and in the distance the railway ran along the other side. We took great joy in watching the trains running on it.

The hospital was a series of wooden huts – like army barracks - and apart from the one I was in, they were occupied by American or Canadian soldiers, all sporting bandages of some sort or other. They had a gramophone and played records almost continuously.

I can’t remember much more of the stay there apart from the fact that the hut was heated by a coke stove in the middle of the ward – we used to put our cod liver oil capsules on the top, they created a dreadful smell!

Anyway, six weeks later I was transferred to MHMO and again, that first day is very clear in my memory. I was taken straight to the treatment room in the Small Boys ward and put on a frame and moved out to the ward. School was just finishing and they were singing ‘Jesus bids us shine’ – a hymn I had never heard, didn’t like it, and still don’t like it!

The six weeks stay at Otley leads me to think that the frames were custom made for us and I wasn’t transferred to MHMO until it was ready. Either that or they were waiting for a bed to become vacant as I cannot recollect having any treatment at all and was able to walk around the place without restriction.

The frames were beastly things. As has been described in other contributions they were a metal frame, running from below your feet up to your shoulders and they were made to ensure that your hip joints didn’t move and that no pressure was put upon them. We laid on a leather pad – we called them saddles – and the frame kept your legs apart. Elastoplast was taped down both sides of your legs, terminating at the ankles with tape loops through which cord was passed and tied to the frame which extended past your feet. These elastoplasts were called extensions. The elastoplast must have been about three inches wide, so there wasn’t much flesh uncovered by the time it was applied to both sides of your legs. Your feet rested on upright supports which were metal arches over which canvas bags were placed (gallow bags they were called). These were pretty useless as either the metal bits (gallows) slipped down or the gallow bags tore under the pressure of our feet. There were two sets of curved bars over your body, I seem to recollect these bars were tied together with cord. Shoulder straps stopped you slipping up the frame and prevented you from sitting up and groin straps stopped you slipping down it! Our legs were first bandaged with light cotton bandages over the elastoplast extensions and then bandaged to the frame with stronger bandages to complete the immobilisation.

Changing the extensions was a time we dreaded. There was no simple and painless way to take remove an elastoplast and there seemed to be no releasing solutions in those days, so it was a sly distraction by the nurse and a quick ‘rippp’ and an instant howl!

Comments have been made about the use of methylated spirits. When the nurses bathed you they took you out of the frame and washed your back. They then rubbed meths in and finished with a dusting of talcum powder. As far as I was concerned it was very effective as I never had bedsores. But for me the smell of meths is very nostalgic – if ever I use it it brings back instant memories of MHMO!

Because of the way we were strapped down, I seem to remember that we wore either pyjama jackets or cardigans back to front, but I am unclear on this. It wasn’t the modern hospital gown, of that I am sure.

I stayed on a frame from the age of five till I was nine, when I went on to the next stage of treatment which was called mobile traction. For this, we were taken out of the frame but the extensions were kept on but this time they were tied to cords running over pulleys over the bed end and attached to weighted bags – they actually contained lead shot – great fun was had by all if one burst! The bed end was raised to allow more travel on the weights. The mobile traction got your joints working again as, with not having any physio, they had all seized up. Knees had to be taught to bend again, as well as hips, and we could learn to sit up at last and muscles slowly regained strength. The only photo of me in all my time in MHMO (which I can’t find) is of me in mobile traction.

The next step was walking on callipers which kept feet off the ground. I had them on both legs. I didn’t have problems with the calipers at all and could go at a fair rate on them after I had had them for some time. My problem was that I managed to break them quite often - I suppose it was metal fatigue.

There were no parallel bars or equipment of any kind to help you learn to walk, you relied on nurses to give you walking lessons by standing you up and helping you along. At the time I was learning to walk we got our first male nurse – it seemed so strange to us as this was really unusual – nurses were female, not male, but he was a good fellow and we all liked him. One day when my callipers had been put on me and I was waiting for a lesson he was busy so he just gave me a chair to lean on and push around rather than help me to walk – it was probably the first zimmer frame! Anyhow, this helped me greatly and I was soon fully mobile.

I went home in July 1947, the day before my tenth birthday and four and a half years after walking into LGI with my dad. He had bought cheap day return tickets to take me to Leeds as they were cheaper than a single. I found the unused return half in my mum’s belongings when she died. She had hung on to it all those years, probably as a momento of the day her son went away.

Contributors mention the food we had. I don’t remember having many problems with it despite hating scrambled egg and although I can eat porridge I simply can’t look it in the face any more. The other interesting thing is that I don’t think we ever had tea to drink – I still don’t drink it.

We sometimes had corn flakes for breakfast as an alternative to porridge. They were mainly Dalton’s Cereal Flakes which came in a red and yellow box and were truly delicious. If they hadn’t enough of them they would use Kellogs, which weren’t half as nice and we would frequently argue about who had which. The big thing about corn flakes was that they come in a cardboard box and this was super material for making things with and we always competed for the empty boxes. They stopped making Daltons flakes somewhere around 1957, such a shame as I would love to have some again!

We invariably had fish on Fridays for lunch. Sometimes it was fish and chips – the only time we seemed to have chips and which we all loved, other times it was steamed fish in a parsley sauce which most people hated.

I can’t recollect being made to eat our meals, maybe we were just hungry and scoffed everything! In school time there would have only been two hours between twelve and two for the nurses to serve lunch, clear away and clean us up and settle us down for our nap so if we didn’t eat our food there wasn’t much time to do anything about it. I don’t think we realised how difficult the food situation was outside and it must have upset nurses when we wasted food, maybe that was the cause of any food bullying but, come to think of it, all parents try to get their children to ‘eat up’, so it wasn’t any different for us.

We had a light blanket to cover ourselves with. Because it was next to our skin it was called ‘Next To’ but we always pronounced it ‘Necks Too’. This served many purposes, it covered our bodies, kept us warm, and if we dropped something we could use the blanket to drag the item closer to the bed to see if we could manage to pick it up. At night, or sleeping time (we had a nap every day after lunch) we covered our faces with it and as a punishment in the day we would be made to cover our faces with it so that we could no longer talk or play. It would have been plain for all to see if we were playing with a toy under the blanket or reading and the nurses were very good at spotting this. It was known as ‘Going down the Bed’.

The other punishment we were given was a rap over the knuckles with the nurse’s scissors – very painful! The smart boys discovered that the louder and sooner you howled, the quicker they stopped. I don’t think the nurses caught on to this dodge! However, I can truly say that I was never bullied, abused or mistreated by the nursing staff. The nurse I mentioned previously who was universally hated was just exceedingly strict, liked a tidy ward and didn’t like us talking and hated rumpled beds. We were frequently ‘sent down the bed’ when she was on duty and she made our lives a misery.

The design of the lockers was interesting. From the side they were ‘L’ shaped, with the foot of the ‘L’ being a storage box with a hinged wooden lid. The lid made a very satisfying bang when dropped and with a bit of co-ordination from everyone on the ward we got quite adept at making a machine gun sound which we loved doing and frequently finished being ‘sent down the bed’ as a result! The upright part of the locker had a shelf, forming an upper and lower compartment and these were open at the sides. The upper compartment was at bed level, making it an ideal playing arena between yourself and the chap in the next bed and this was the base for many risky adventures and you could whisper through it when we were supposed to be asleep.

Being adventurous and inquisitive boys, we got up to all sorts of things in that secret little locker area. Battles were fought, plays staged, factories, airfields and roads were built and bombed. I well remember that, following a visit by the fire brigade one evening to pump the boiler house out, we entered on a ‘boiler making’ phase. Once again, plasticine was the material we used. We made containers to store water in (we used our drinking water or took a bit from our washing bowls). Pipes were moulded by wrapping plasticine around pencils, the pipes were ‘flanged’ at each end which enabled us to join them, and we finished up by having a maze of pipes running from our boiler, ending in taps to catch the water at the end. We had a few floods, but were never caught out.

The boiler phase turned into a new phase – harbours! We built walls (good old plasticine, reinforced with pencils) at each end of the locker shelf and filled it with water and sailed model boats on it. Plasticine only floats if you make hollow boats from it, but we made quite a few good cardboard models to sail. Apparently one pair of smart lads had a pier in their harbour, complete with a battery-powered lighthouse! Unfortunately, the night nurse saw a light coming out of the locker and discovered it. A quick check of other lockers was made and a couple of others were found and a mass knuckle rapping session followed. Fortunately for me and my mate (can’t remember who he was) we had emptied ours that day and so we got away with it. We had moved on to something else by then, probably more dangerous as among other things, we went through a cooking phase using candles made from Glitterwax ( a tallow based substitute for plasticine) to make Oxo drinks!

The radio played a major part in our lives. We had school singing lessons from the radio – I vividly remember the over-jovial voice of the man who took the lessons, we used books bought from the BBC for these lessons. We listened to sports commentaries of football, boxing and horse racing. Raymond Glendinning, Eamon Andrews and Stuart McPherson were the main commentators, I think, and we would try to imitate them as they spoke so fast. We followed Bruce Woodcock, a northern boxer (?any relationship Jane?) and would get permission to listen to the commentary of any of his fights. I remember that we also got permission to listen to the serialised medical murder drama ‘Green for Danger’ and got ourselves scared stupid by it. Anyone due for surgery at that time were certainly not very happy bunnies! We needed special permission to listen to these programmes as they were broadcast after our bedtime.

We were all interested in sport. There was little interest in football - rugby league was our thing. The main teams supported by different boys were Leeds. Hunslet, Bramley Wakefield Trinity and I think St Helens, mainly of course because these teams were local to where the boys came from (except St Helens- that was too far afield). I think the St Helens or Warrington team came to visit us once and I do believe that Eddie Waring, who became a commentator on sport and ‘It’s a Knockout’ was amongst them.

We were keen enough on rugby league to devise our own version. One boy had a rugby ball bladder, which we could punt around to each other. There were metal tie rods going across the ceiling at the end of the big boys ward and the idea was to punt the ball with your hand (rather like in volleyball) to see if you could hit the tie rod. If you did, this was a ‘try’ for your team and you could have a go at converting it by attempting to punt the ball over the tie rod. The lights took a battering, but fortunately they stood up to it otherwise we would probably all had rather sore knuckles for a few days!

We devised a horse racing game which involved one boy being selected as commentator. He blocked his ears and sang so that he couldn’t hear us whilst we chose the name of the horse we would ride. When all was agreed, the commentator was given the horse names (but not the riders) and he would start the race and do a commentary from his imagination, doing the best imitation he could of Raymond Glendinning, whilst we did the best imitation we could do of riding. If your horse was said to be in the lead, you ‘rode’ that much faster, until the commentator reached the end and announced the winner. Stupid, I know, but we wore ourselves out on this one! It was our version of the real life thing, - we had our own versions of most sports.

We did a lot of jigsaw puzzles, Waddingtons , the game manufacturers, would send us a couple if you wrote to them asking them to replace the parts of one of their games, I expect they got wise to it in the end!

We were able to do these things because there were not many nurses on duty at any one time, probably two or three at most with a sister in charge whilst at night there was one nurse on duty on each ward with a sister in charge over all of the wards. There were no wounds to dress, no medicines to dish out, their duties must have been feeding and bathing us and making beds and taking temperatures – more meths to sterilise the thermometers! They were all very young I seem to remember, probably straight from their initial training course.

We spent most of our days in the open air as it was deemed to be beneficial, particularly to TB in those days. In winter we were well wrapped up and in summer we wore something similar to a loincloth (they were called splashers) but no regard was paid to the strength of the sun and there was no suntan lotion in those days. I got a serious dose of sunstroke one year and was dangerously ill with it, to the extent that my parents were asked to come and see me – the doctors must have been very concerned.

Looking back, some things come to mind which I suppose just wouldn’t happen nowadays. We left hospital totally unprepared for the big world outside. We were not very worldly and had no manners – other than an occasional ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. My parents had to sort all this out, as well as teach me to hold a knife and fork properly when I got home. We were a thankless, almost selfish, lot as we didn’t have to give much and it grieves me now to think that we never wrote a note of thanks to any of the organisations that had given us a party or sent us something – how good it would have made them feel – but I don’t suppose that we knew about such niceties. We had been in an all boys environment with no physical contact, protected from any harm or violence or cuts and bruises and we rarely encountered girls. We didn’t have to share things, although we swapped comics with each other and I don’t think we had any monetary values although I was aware that things weren’t easy for my parents. We didn’t know an awful lot about the world outside although, to a point, the radio kept us in touch with real life, and we read the papers on Sunday, but all in all it was a very closeted, almost monastic, life. Children entering the hospital younger than I was when I was admitted would have very little concept of what the world outside was like and would have had much to learn when they went home - nowadays television brings the world to you, but of course, there was no television in our time. If counselling had been around in those days I suppose we would have had endless sessions to prepare ourselves for the big world outside.

I settled back at home quite well although, after a lot of thought, I have realised that over the next few years I tried to get back all the boyhood things I’d missed in those years in MHMO, charging around everywhere and going on mad adventures. I have two elder sisters and a younger sister and brother and they seemed to accept me as though I had always been there. I went back to ordinary school when the Autumn term started and fitted in with a school class of children of my own age without too many problems but had to take a few weeks off when the time eventually came to discard the callipers and learn to walk normally again.

When I left school it was obvious I didn’t have the strength for manual work and settled for an office job. I have lived a normal life without obvious disabilities although arthritis crept in at quite an early age and I have had one hip replaced and might in time have to have the other done. The MHMO experience has left me to be quite skilled with my hands and I am quite inventive and have a dogged determination to fix things and make them work, it’s probably due to all that plasticine modelling!