All is well

St Lawrence of Brindisi. Tuesday 21st July, 2020

When I streamed the early morning service from Leigh on Sea in Norfolk this morning I was informed that it was the feast day of St Lawrence. Into my mind flooded many distractions and memories of my GAP year 52 years ago. It was the nine months between leaving school and going up to University.

For four months I worked as a Ward Orderly at the Cheltenham General Hospital earning money to finance my journey across Europe. I stayed with my Grand Father in Lansdown Road and would daily visit my Grand Mother in a local Care Home. I walked each morning through the elegant town passing the majestic architecture and the grand Cheltenham Ladies College and the boys' Cheltenham College. The hospital was opposite the latter and overlooked the cricket field.

My opening wage was £4 but within a week was £8 ten shillings. I felt so grown up, so independent, so free. Grandpa gave me free board and lodging. Within four months I had earned sufficient for my Father to supplement it. He gave me the equivalent of the air fare from London to Istanbul where the family was living and was my destination.

The experience of working in the hospital was invaluable. The people with whom I worked, the patients and the whole ambience of a well run Matronly hospital. I learned much of human nature and recall much. Miss Ducket, aged 47, with cancer of the backbone and bowel who died yet was ever cheerful, full of laughter in the midst of excruciating pain. The Ward Sister a fierce and demanding dragon with a heart of pure gold and a love for her charges. The tea breaks with the other orderlies who thought me snobbish and intellectual at the beginning. They used to organise the redistribution of foods. Rather than throw out vast amounts of uneaten food it was collected and sent to known people in need and shelters.

I kept the first pair of shoes I ever bought with my own money. They were reduced to under £4. I was so proud of them and I had them for years as a symbol of my independence and freedom.

The sadness of leaving (although I used to pop back whenever I visited my Grand Parents). They held three parties for me. One with the orderlies and booze. One with the Ward and tea and cakes. The third with the Matron and my Grand Father with sherry.

Two weeks after finishing at the Hospital I was on the way with a friend to Sicily via all sorts. We were to stay with a friend there for a few weeks...glorious and comfortable and by the sea. After Taormina I headed off alone and it was in Brindisi that I was first mugged, thus my memory. St Lawrence must have been about for they did not get my passport nor most of my cash but they did give me a heck of a shock and a bruising.

So all was well.