I wanted to share my memories before they fade. I suggested to Jon that the group might enjoy blogging about their memories and share some of the historical and living histories we have created and he kindly invited me to write this first blog:-
For my first Blog to be shared with you all I wanted to remember a place and a person , both of which where famous and both of which changed many peoples lives. Provident Hospital is the place and Sister Duffy, as famous as any film star within the boundaries of St Helen's itself...is the person. Though I make no apology for this blog...it will wander off and 'investigate' a few small memories along the way without real cause...but maybe an effect ! I promise to keep returning to my main topic.
St. Helen's sits between Manchester and Liverpool, was an industrial town which when I was a child thrived on the Coal, Brewing and Glass Industries which abounded and Beechams', Pilkingtons' and Greenalls' ruled the family economy. Many a child followed in the parents footsteps and worked for the same firm, and it was a saying then that if you lost your job on Friday afternoon, you could walk into a new job on the Monday. With heavy industry, machinery and tools of the trade which where lethal if used wrongly there was a real need for a good hospital and St. Helen's had two.
We had St. Helen's Cottage Hospital, state run at Peasley Cross, a small but solid little hospital serving the communities needs and Provident Hospital in the centre of town itself; run by Roman Catholic Nuns and financially upheld by donations from every working mans wage packet in the Borough.
My introduction to Provident Hospital was at the tender age of 3years old. Ginger Pop was sold in 'Stoneware' Jugs, I fell on one, sat on it with a resounding thump and my Dad had to rush me to the hospital. Wrapping me in a blanket he ran to the top of the road to telephone for an ambulance which duly arrived and rushed me to the Accident unit . Here the Doctor had Dad hold me down while he stitched my torn flesh back in place. (yes it hurt...a lot !) but I didn't cry because Dad said not too. No such thing as an injection to stop the pain...you got sorted as soon as was possible and off you went back home. I have searing recollections of the needle as it pierced each side of the gash in my flesh...ow ow owwww !My next visit to the place was to see my Dad.
Poor Dad had a Duodenal Ulcer and had to be operated on. He told the story of waking after his operation, on the ward early Sunday morning with no idea that the Nuns held Sunday Service in every single ward. He opened his eyes slowly and in his view was an altar, flowers and the smell of incense, and the sound of Latin being incanted. Opening his eyes wider in shock he saw the vision of a woman dressed from head to toe in white and a Priest smiling at him...and Dad gently raised his finger and pointed to the ceiling a query in his eyes 'am I in Heaven?'. Slowly the Priest leaned towards Dad and smilingly shook his head ,with a thumbs down gesture he whispered, "Mr. Jones your a Protestant." and patted Dads hand in sympathy.hahahaha
Yes Provident Hospital was run by Nuns and those beautiful women made no distinction of religion or need but served each person equally and with true devotion and the Priest...well he understood the Miners and the other workers and had a nicely honed sense of humour. What matter religion when you needed someone to save your life.
Religion was then a real problem in the town, often I would be asked if I was a Catlick or a Proddydog..having broad minded parents I never truly had a problem with any religion, still don't but for some, it was an issue. Especially for some of the families over from Ireland whose history was so much darker than our own where religion was concerned. Still tolerance in hospitals and in our education system (Grange Park Technical School for example had both Protestant and Catholic pupils) seemed to work in our little town. What people really got steamed up about ...was Wiganners ! or Scousers! or...well anyone whose accent wasn't the same as their own....but that too changed in time.
At 23 I had blood poisoning in my foot. A thin red line had begun to grow up the back of my leg. I rushed to Provident Hospital and had my first true encounter with the redoubtable Sister Duffy.
This woman was a legend then and I believe still is. She appeared to me then as a no nonsense woman, a hands on 'fixer of all ills' with complete common sense and an attitude remarkably like the matron that Hattie Jacques acted so brilliantly.When it came to telling you...and anyone else in hearing...to shape up and stop whinging !!! Sister Duffy deserved an Oscar.! With brisk efficiency she stabbed my arm with a needle that looked (to my very squeamish eyes) more like a knitting needle and resolved my poisoning with a hefty shot of Tetanus ...I left with a bandaged foot and leg and a list of do and don't and a telling off....never dig up the garden in silly shoes ever again!
My next encounter was through my friend Barbara whose nose had been punched and broken.According to my friend without so much as an X-Ray Sister Duffy took one look, said almost casually 'brace yourself' and with two firm hands put Barbara's' nose back as straight as ever. Babs' eyes where watering...but the time saved, the energy saved...and the looks preserved she left with a "Thank you Sister Duffy" on her lips...but I still laugh when I think about the look on Babs' face as she recounted this tale.
That wouldn't be allowed now, we all know that, but how many of us have reason to be thankful for the person who can see and do...and does it without any fuss? Sometimes the old days and the old ways really where best.
My young son David had a small accident, a silly scrape but Provident Hospital was open and easy to reach and my Husband also a David came with me as we took our son to the Accident department.
My husband was very edgy, kept walking around when suddenly Sister Duffy appeared. Never before or since have I seen the like. My 6 footer husband, all 18 stone of rugby muscle and as hard as nails suddenly became quiet, almost reverential ;as Sister Duffy proceeded to fix our sons leg; I hear; please, thank you, yes Sister Duffy, no Sister Duffy. I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise and he shrugged and looked down at the floor. In those days the paperwork came after not before you got treated and Sister Duffy begins to fill out some paperwork for David. She asked name? and I said David Swift and she stopped her pen in mid stroke and raised her eyes to look piercingly at my son.
"I know that name, wait a minute your far too young...hmmmm you!" and pointed pen and finger at my husband.
Big David hung his head "yes Sister Duffy " and then smiled as she began to recount a series of 'adventures' which all involved my Husbands escapades as a child and teenager....young David was awe struck, Big David was boyishly embarrassed and with the stern "I don't want to see you copying your father" in his ears my young son , held in his fathers arms left Provident Hospital grinning like mad and asking very uncomfortable questions of daddy...how did you cut your knee open so you could see bone Dad ?
This woman had memory like an elephant!..
I met Sister Duffy a few years later, and yes she remembered me and she remembered my son and my husband...what a woman...and how many more of you out there remember her ? not just for her kindness and her help and her wit...but her service to the towns people ?
St. Helen's has lost Provident Hospital now, its long gone and with it a whole series of memories and small miracles. In its place are flats and buildings and an institution that deserved to stay has been lost forever.
Somewhere in St. Helen's memories lie a thousand, a million little thoughts about both the hospital and all of its staff , not just the redoubtable Sister Duffy but the Nuns who gave such service, care and love to the community. Those memories are rarely brought to the surface, very rarely remembered now. I hope this blog has stirred a kind thought for a woman who gave service to the town for many years. I hope this blog has caused you to remember and in those memories I hope you find a smile.
For those who have no such memories I can honestly say, that with all the modern almost science fictional qualities of modern hospitals...without a Sister Duffy, they are soulless places that inspire nothing of the human soul, nothing of the human spirit to fight, to recover...one 'brace yourself' from a stern but kindly voice can do far more for you than a whole packet of pills ! I trusted that voice, if she had told me to turn back from deaths door and come home...I'd have listened ....maybe some of you out there did.
Long live the memory.
As I ready myself to post this little blog...oh the thoughts that have come streaming back, Josie my friend showing me her legs when the Nun 'strapped her' for not attending Mass, the Jesuit Singing Priest outside of The Co - op 'blow out' the Dominican Priest all the girls fell in love with at St. Anne's...Radio Doom, St. Anne's Graveyard and the midnight walk of the Monks that had 'us' all believing we where witnessing ghosts..Red Rose Rockers, Carr Mill Cowboys...its all still here, I haven't thought of Willie 'dancing on his tank (and falling off a lot)' riding his bike down North Road because we where all going to watch Easy Rider at the 'flicks',. Scarcely thought of memories.....and I am smiling to myself.
Good times, bad times, some downright rotten times, some absolutely amazing times. I can remember so much I thought had long since melted away with time..I must tell you about the Close Encounters of a Third kind moment in Shirdley Park when we lived in Shirdley Hall...I want to tell you..oh...ho...then there is....ah well time is short today, reading for too long becomes difficult another time perhaps. But never the less..welcome to my memories, my history...welcome to my thoughts...Somewhere 'out there' are people I haven't heard of for years, places I haven't been too and then here in the realms of my mind are thoughts I haven't shared for so long.....now have you a few too ?
e mail me at Ravenjehra@hotmail.com mark it St Helen's memories and I would love to hear from you...but in the meantime...this blog is especially for Jon's' site...join in...spread the word...share the moments :)
picture Sunset at Windle 2009 copyrite SusaninHarlech.
