A DIFFERENT KIND OF ISOLATION
In 1952 I underwent an horrendous experience in a way similar to the experiences of Coronavirus sufferers today. I became extremely ill. My body was covered in a red rash, I had a high temperature, a sore throat and a swollen neck. Our family doctor was summoned and quickly diagnosed as suffering from Scarlet Fever. Today Scarlet Fever is treated with antibiotics and children have little time away from school. This was not the case in the 1950s.
I don’t know who Dr Fidler contacted but wheels were quickly set in motion to deal with my illness. Firstly an ambulance arrived. A very kind ambulance man wrapped me in a red woollen blanket before carrying me to the waiting vehicle. Though I realised I was ill I had no idea how serious the illness was. I was bemused to find a crowd of women by the ambulance all crying into their aprons. It appears no-one expected to see me again.
This is where I was taken. It was the Bradford Fever Hospital in Leeds Road. It opened in 1867 as the Bradford Infectious Deseases Hospital before becoming the Bradford Fever Hospital in 1948. When an outbreak of Smallpox occurred in Bradford in 1893 the Leeds Road Hospital was full of Scarlet Fever patients and the Smallpox patients had to housed elsewhere. The Bradford Health Department yearly reports to the Bradford Corporation give the yearly numbers for those hospitalised for Scarlet Fever. Up until the second half of the 20th century Scarlet Fever was a dangerous illness.
The Fever Hospital was an isolation hospital. No visitors were allowed at all. Children were placed on the same ward as the women and for the length of their stay the children could have no physical contact with their parents. Visiting times were traumatic. Note the verandah outside the windows. This was where your mum and dad would stand to talk to you. I say talk but as the windows were only open at the top very little could be said. My bed was wheeled to a window and their were my parents. They cried and I cried – not a successful visit! They could leave presents so I got toys and colouring books etc. I am not sure how long I was in the hospital. It seemed forever but was probably no more than a month.
Going home was a little like rising from the dead. I was fussed over by everyone and I think this is really when I began to realise I had been very ill. Also everything that I had received from home when I was in the hospital had to be left there. It seems that the minute I had been taken to hospital my home had been invaded by men with a serious task to perform. A blanket was placed over the door to my bedroom and the room was fumigated. All my books, toys and clothes were destroyed. So when I came home my parents had to find the money to firstly clothe me and then provide me with toys. I thought this was brilliant but in later years realised that outlay must have been a strain of the family finances.
This is Michael. He will always be part of my life as he was the first doll I bought with my pocket money after I came home from hospital.
My sympathies are with those isolated in hospital and their caring families unable to see them.
THE ENGLISH TRADITION OF CROWNING OF A MAY QUEEN
I have been sorting through my family photographs and reminiscing on my childhood. One of the highlights for me was the year I was crowned May Queen at Lorne Street School in 1953
The tradition of crowning a young girl as Queen of May has been carried out for many centuries in this country. The actual origin is lost in time and long forgotten. It may have been a pagan ritual associated with fertility. The Queen of May overcoming the Winter Queen. When Christianity came to these islands it became associated with the Virgin Mary. Each year a young girl was chosen for her beauty and purity to preside over May Day celebrations. The Queen would walk or ride at the front of May Day Parades wearing a white gown to represent purity. The festivities were banned under the Interegnum but restored by Charles II in 1660.
I was lucky enough to be chosen Queen of May in 1953 by the boys in my class. My down to earth father always said I wasn’t chosen for my beauty but because I let all the boys kiss me.
Every year a class photograph was taken with the May Queen of that year. On this one I am 3rd from the right on the first seated row.
All the children in the school could take part in the celebrations as we were encouraged to join the parade with decorated prams, bikes and scooters. Bradford shops sold out of crepe paper the first week in May! This is actually by brother’s bicycle as I am too young for school . No I hadn’t run over him though I was often greatly tempted.
The year before I was May Queen I was an attendant.
I am on right end of the middle row. The photographs were taken the day after the crowning. All of us except for the girl on the left of the page boy remembered to wear our special clothes. The teachers were not pleased with her.
Pretending to crown me is Paul Hornby. Carrying the cushion is David. Typically I remember the boys but not the girls!
After the crowning we had to parade round the play ground so we could be seen by all the parents. We were followed by a collection of bikes, prams and scooters.
One class would be chosen to perform a maypole dance. The first recorded maypole dance was in the 14th century. In later years it was considered to be anti-Christian and frowned upon. It was revived in the late 19th century. When i was a teacher at Netherlands Avenue Special School the children loved learning the dances. It was exhausting teaching them but the pride on their faces when they succeeded was worth the effort.
One year my brother took part in the Maypole Dance . He is the first boy on the left.
In February 1953 sweet rationing ended but meat and food rationing continued for another year. The memories of the Second World War were still vivid. Neighbours on our street, Brompton Road in East Bowling, remembered the bombing of the nearby St John’s vicarage. There were no baths, no inside toilets and only a few had electricity in their houses. Money was short as well as food but everyone looked out for each other. When word got out that I was to be May Queen our neighbours were delighted. It was a pick me up for the street. My dress was made for me by my grandmother from parachute silk provided by my aunt. Net gloves came from an elderly lady. My mother was in tears when she was told that the neighbours were collecting money to provide me with a bouquet. All mum had to provide was a pair of shoes. On the day I had to stand on the table in our living room dressed in my finery so the neighbours could see me as they couldn’t get into the school playground. The memory of that day has stayed with me ever since. It was great to be the centre of attention but what sticks in my memory is the love and pride of the people on our street.