Nurse Hampton

A Memory of Virginia Water.

On August 13, 1961 I took up residence as a student nurse in Lindsay Smith House across from the hospital. It was the day the Berlin wall went up, and, as I recall, the day before the grouse shooting season began.
I was 19 years old.
Miss Goodyear was the Matron. Miss Lemon was Assistant Matron; Miss Mitzi Tauber was Assistant Matron (rumoured to be the cousin of Richard Tauber the singer); Miss Cottingham was Night Sister.
I wore a blue cotton dress, a white apron (fresh daily), a plain cap, black stockings and shoes. I was also issued a navy blue cape with a red lining. It was so cold dressed thusly, I made a red flannel petticoat and combinations to keep war. We were not allowed to wear a cardigan, unless by special dispensation, like when the boiler was not working.
We worked 12-hour shifts from 7am to 7pm for four days. One day, we were on at 10 am. On our days off we were served breakfast in bed by Italian maids. The trays had a full complement of food, hot, cereal, tea, and little jugs containing milk.
We spent three months, on probation, took a state exam after one year, and as part of the four-year course, transferred to general nursing at St. Mary's Hospital in Paddington. The qualification of Registered Mental Nurse required three years at Holloway.
I have so many memories.
Turning our cloaks inside at Christmas time out so the red showed. Carrying lanterns to the staff houses to sing carols, ending up at the Lodge, the home of the administrator. I don't recall his name, but others are etched in my memory, and I will recount them later.
When sitting with a patient one did not have to stand up to greet Matron. Otherwise, if one saw Matron enter, one went to Sister and let her know Matron was there to do "rounds." One approached any senior nurse with one's hands behind one's back!
In the summer we went to the swimming pool down the street.
We hung out at St. Ann's Club across the street. We could dance and drink and socialize there.
In season we would take patients to pick blackberries, then return to the ward (Dorothea Dix) and make blackberry pies.
I was "sister" on Jane Holloway my first year there. Twenty moderately senile dementia woman. I gave medications, served meals, bathed them and wrote reports.
One evening I was assigned to take patients to see the play, "Orange Island," in a theatre in Windsor. One of the men was on Antabuse, a drug to counter alcoholism, and which makes a person feel very ill if he/she drinks. He went to the bar and indulged. I had to get a taxi to take him back to Holloway. Later, he apologized and presented me with a bouquet of flowers!
The stage in the ballroom was the scene for, "Psychodramas." Scenarios portraying patients with schizophrenia, manic-depressive, senile dementia, and how staff, put on the spot, would deal with them. These were inter-hospital events.
Instead of teacher, or instructors, we had tutors. I recall Mr. Armstrong. The gate on his house read, "Hobbit."
The hospital had an operating theatre, not used in 1961. I had a verrucca removed from my foot in there. I also witness an autopsy of a patient I had known from the geriatric ward, Florence Nightingale.
There was also a morgue where we transported patients who had expired. I remember one, "dark and stormy night," transporting a deceased patient out to the morgue with Miss Cottingham. It was quite Gothic!
The laundry room, as well as the boiler room, was along an underground corridor about a quarter of a mile from the main building. On each side, locked rooms displayed antique furniture, presumably left by departing patients. There were some antiques still in use. I particularly remember a charming little heart-shaped table outside the library.
A movie theatre was situated next to Clouston, the locked ward.
The maids lived on the top floor in the tower. Most of them were from Spain.
After a year, I was allowed to, "live out," and moved to Trumps Mill Cottage, Trumps Mill Lane, across from the Mickelsen estate. I shared half the building with a wall between us, with the gardener for the estate. Pat and Betty, and assorted children. I lived there when Pat came and told me President Kennedy had been shot.
In the village of Wentworth was a restaurant called, "The Hawk's Nest," run by Jeremy Hawk. I think he was a movie actor.
I have vivid memories of patient, and for obvious reasons cannot name them. The lady who had rescued people by helicopter, flying over France. The well-known writer's sister. The maid on Florence Nightingale, Mary, a then-called idiot-savant. I took her to my room in Lindsay Smith House and played a 78 for her, and the next day she played it perfectly on the piano on the ward.
Willie who audaciously called everyone by their first name. We were formally addressed by the title, as in, Nurse Hampton. Even Matron called us, "Nurse."
To be continued. Patricia Hampton, SRN.