A Yorkshire Almanac Comprising 366 Historical Extracts, Red-letter Days and Customs, and Astronomical and Meteorological Data
Old dominoes, by Alf van Beem, but how old? (Beem 2014).
Douglas Holmes. 1974. My Life at Meanwood. Leeds. Get it:
.I am a Christian, and have been for longer than I can remember. There was a time when I was as bad as most other people. There was hardly ever a day went by when I did not get into trouble for one thing or another, especially during my life at home, which lasted seven years before I went into St James’ Hospital, Leeds for the first time. All these times when I got into trouble. However the time came eventually when I received my first Bible, which was bought for me out of my own money by one of our staff at Meanwood [Park Hospital, a mental health unit where Holmes lived from 1945 until his death], who is himself a part time lay preacher at the hospital. Now when trouble comes my way, I only have to turn to God in faith and trust, and know beyond doubt he forgives those who truly repent. I now hold my own services on a Friday evening on one of the villas where I used to be, and [girlfriend] Margaret and I take it in turns reading the lessons and announcing the hymns. When some people dream it is surprising how real and life-like our dreams can be. So much so that we expect to wake up in the morning to find them come true and as true as they appeared. I remember experiencing something like this myself some years ago. I was in Seacroft Hospital, Leeds at the time, recovering from diphtheria. It was Christmas Eve, and as I slept I dreamed that on Christmas morning, when I received my presents, among them was a box of those kind of dominoes with the coloured spots, and on receiving them, and having looked through the rest of my presents, I had put the box of dominoes under my pillow. The first thing I did on awakening on Christmas morning was to look under my pillow, only to be disappointed to find that the box of dominoes was not there.
To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:
The second paragraph is as given by Maggie Potts and Rebecca Fido, who appear to have seen the MS – I wonder where the owner of the website above found it. Re “Ernest” they write:
Born in 1928. Suffered from spina bifida. Was admitted to the local general hospital in 1938 because of neglect. Transferred from general hospital to [Meanwood Park Hospital] in 1945. No record of any education. Largely self-taught. Worked in the hospital departments and on the villa where his academic skills were useful in organising the clothing store. Described as “the most intelligent patient in the hospital”, he was asked to speak on behalf of other residents on formal occasions such as moving a vote of thanks to the Lord Mayor. He wrote his own account of life in [MPH] in 1974, which is in the hospital library. His physical health was poor, and he became increasingly physically disabled, relying on a wheelchair during his last years. He was sustained by a deep religious faith and his close relationship with a fellow resident, which lasted from 1971 until his death in August 1989 (Potts 1991).
Why am I guessing 1938? Because if he hadn’t had diphtheria around the time of his entrance into Seacroft and institutional life in that year, he would surely have been vaccinated pretty promptly. Notifications and deaths also fell dramatically after 1938 (Millward 2019), so that remains the most probable year even if they didn’t get round to vaccination.
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I am a Christian, and have been for longer than I can remember. There was a time when I was as bad as most other people. There was hardly ever a day went by when I did not get into trouble for one thing or another, especially during my life at home, which lasted seven years before I went into St James’ Hospital, Leeds for the first time. All these times when I got into trouble. However the time came eventually when I received my first Bible, which was bought for me out of my own money by one of our staff at Meanwood [Park Hospital, a mental health unit where Holmes lived from 1945 until his death], who is himself a part time lay preacher at the hospital. Now when trouble comes my way, I only have to turn to God in faith and trust, and know beyond doubt he forgives those who truly repent. I now hold my own services on a Friday evening on one of the villas where I used to be, and [girlfriend] Margaret and I take it in turns reading the lessons and announcing the hymns.
When some people dream it is surprising how real and life-like our dreams can be. So much so that we expect to wake up in the morning to find them come true and as true as they appeared. I remember experiencing something like this myself some years ago. (I cannot remember exactly how long ago.) I was in [Seacroft Hospital, Leeds] at the time, recovering from diphtheria. It was Christmas Eve, and as I slept I dreamed that on Christmas morning, when I received my presents, amongst them was a box of those kind of dominoes with the coloured spots, and on receiving them, and having looked through the rest of my presents, I had put the box of dominoes under my pillow. The first thing I did on awakening on Christmas morning was to look under my pillow, only to be disappointed to find that the box of dominoes was not there.
348 words.
The Headingley Gallimaufrians: a choir of the weird and wonderful.
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