Fate saw me put into St Joseph's home, Carmel Road, Darlington in April 1948 at the age of 5. I was to remain there for ten years.
Ten long years without a single visit - although my parents and relatives lived nearby - without knowing I had a brother in the nearby boys home, St Mary's, Tudhoe. Ten long years with no sense of who I was, no sense of being an individual - no sense of significance or belonging. Everytime a visitor came to the home, I would pray:
'Please let it be for me' - it never was... |
Saint Joseph's Home for me was:
S - SISTERS OF CHARITY - cruel and unkind T - TRYING to be invisible, living in a climate of fear J - JUST a number - no name - I was number seventy five O - an 'OUTSIDER' at St Augstin's School and the kindness of her invitation to tea S - being made to STAND with a urine drenched SHEET over your head, until your legs buckled under the strain - punishment for wetting the bed E - EVERYONE being caned, no one knowing why P - PRAYING one day there would be a visitor for me - there never was H - being HIT with a HAMMER if your shoes were worn down S - made to feel 'SPECIAL' -just once- on your first Holy Communion H - HIGH walls, intimidatingly high, surrounding the home, locking us in and the outside world out O - ONCE a week getting to choose a few sweets using your 'sixpence allowance' M - 'MADAME' WILDE - a kind, local shopkeeper who organised ice cream for us one Christmas E - EATING mouldy bread for tea and being told to be grateful Apparently there were worse places than St Joseph's: The Convent of the Good Shepherd (Magdelen laundry/workhouse), Gosforth, was always mentioned in threat by the nuns - the very name was terrifying. |