Port Regus 1953 By Sandra Cook As I Was Known Then.

A Memory of Broadstairs.

I was left here in 1953 at the age of 5 by my parents. It was run by nuns. My parents walked away and left me there and I didn't know why or what I had done wrong. Later my mother said it was because I was too thin. It has had an effect on me the rest of my life. i cried and cried every night I was there. We slept in a dormitory and there was no child furniture in those days, so everything was gigantic to me. I wet the bed in my sleep every night and was always in big trouble because of it and I was made to make my own bed and as they were high, this was hard for me. I was there for nearly a year and had my 6th birthday there and on that occasion my parents visited me. I begged them to take me home. I also spent Christmas there. In the night on Christmas Eve a Novis Nun who was very kind came and asked me if I wanted to open a present, it was a doll and I clung to it with all my life and sobbed. We were made to eat the same food every day, and not much to drink. Every Sunday we were taken into a chapel where a priest came and told us that if we told one lie we would burn in hell for eternity. I was very frightened. I remember that one day we had to strip to our pants and walk round a paraffin heater and take deep breaths, this was supposed to help us get stronger, I think it was some sort of exercise. I could not run away as we had come miles in a train and I did not know where we were. The heartbreak of being separated from my parents at such a young age has always stayed with me. I have photos of the place and I have been back since. It is a different place now, but I got the shivers when I entered certain rooms that brought back powerful memories. The nuns were hard a uncaring, there was no love given. My father brought me home in the end.


Added 01 November 2016

#346301

Comments & Feedback

Sandra, your story touched me as I was also in a so called convalescent home for young children in Broadstairs. Not your place but the same culture. Oh the agony of not ever seeing your parents and the feeling of abandonment. As you say. No semblance of child furniture or play things. I was so traumatized I became seriously constipated and had to be pumped free with soapy water. At Christmas where some children got gifts. I waited patiently as one did in those days for my name to be called to collect my gift. But the call never came. I got a copy of the New Testament instead. So very hard on a young child of 6 years.

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