A Bad Memory Of A Lovely Place

A Memory of Hayling Island.

I was sent to Hayling Island in 1947, I was about 7 years old and had suffered 2 bouts of Scarlett fever. This had left me in a low state of health & it was thought I would benefit from a spell in a Convalescent Home. I was taken by a nurse from London to a large house called 'Fairlite', not far from the beach. The home was run by a matron with 1 or 2 local teenage girls. I had my clothes removed, was bathed and given a pair of shorts, an old pullover and a pair of plimsolles (this was in November!) I never saw my clothes again until I left in January '48. I and about 9 or 10 other boys, all from London, were living in a large wooden shed in the garden. It had approximately ten beds, a bath, a table and a round stove in the middle for heating. We all bathed in the same water, about 3 to 4 inches deep and very hot if you where the first one! Cooler and dirty if you were the last. The food was appalling. The home was run by the 'matron' in cahoots with the local doctor. You could only go home when he said you were well enough, and he would delay that as long as possible! I presume they were paid for the number of days you were there, plus some money for wear and tear of your clothes, hence the old clothes that we were given on arrival. We were encouraged to write home to mum once a week, but you had to write exactly what matron said. My mother realised that the letters were not in the sort of grammar that a small boy (me) would would use. Mum contacted the home and made arrangements to call and visit me. On the day of the visit I was taken into the house, dressed in my clothes and waited in a small but nice room with a bed. Mum was told that this was my room! My mother was not taken in by this and we left for London. Some time later my mother met our local MP and was told it would be investigated. I made a trip with my wife to Hayling island last year to find the house. We called in at the local library, they were very helpful and found what might have been the site, the house had been demolished and the garden now had several holiday chalets in it. I had many nightmares as a lad and even now at my age I still occasionally dream about it. I am now 74 and will probably never know what happened to 'Fairlight Convalescent Home'