Sexual intercourse began In nineteen sixty-three (which was rather late for me) Between the end of the Chatterley ban And the Beatles’ first LP Philip Larkin. The Beatles first LP starts […]
Not in the prescription
I have a framed picture on my dining room wall that was left to me by my grandmother when she died. It was given to her for her 17th birthday by a friend when they were both training to be nurses during the First World War. My grandmother married before she qualified and, as a […]
The tyranny of the Bleep
I have no recollection of walking into the Mayday Hospital in Croydon on my first day of work as a qualified doctor. I do not think that it felt especially momentous. In fact, after such a long journey to that exact moment, I am sure it felt anticlimactic. In 1980, there was no organised induction […]
Graduation Day
The last year at medical school was marked by a gathering sense of dread as Finals approached. Although we had had innumerable tests over the years, these were just way marks. Qualification rested entirely on the results of a heavy schedule of written and viva voce exams taken in late May and early June, and […]
Turbulent priests
By Catherine Robinson on 8th April 2022 in Medical School, Medical Values, Professional Boundaries, Psychiatrists, Religion
In the 1950s and 60s, christenings of babies were important gatherings in the British summertime. They were one of those regular rituals that brought families together to drink warm German wine and to fall out with each other. Nearly everyone was christened, even if their parents had a lukewarm relationship with Christianity. I have only […]
Never work with children or animals
By Catherine Robinson on 29th March 2022 in 1970s, Children, Medical School, The winter of discontent
As soon as I finished my psychiatry attachment, my girlfriend and I got married. Obviously, Woolwich Town Hall first thing on a cold December morning would not be anyone’s idea of a nice day for a white wedding, but, like my grandfather’s funeral shortly before, we constructed a bespoke occasion that was congruent with the […]
Psychiatric Epiphany Part 3: The winter of discontent
By Catherine Robinson on 19th February 2022 in 1970s, Medical School, Mental Health, Psychiatry, Uncategorised
Having decided to become a psychiatrist, I watched the autumn of 1978 fade into the notorious Winter of Discontent, the prelude to Margaret Thatcher’s first election victory. Leaving aside public sector strikes and severe cold weather, rather a lot of significant events in my life happened in the last three months of 1978. My long […]
Psychiatric Epiphany part 2: Formerly Surrey County Asylum
By Catherine Robinson on 17th January 2022 in 1970s, Hospitals, Medical School, Mental Health, Psychiatry
My wife has a habit of forgetting to tell me things. When she was at university, she neglected to tell me that her parents would be moving house before she came home for the holidays and I only found out by accident. She denies that this was an attempt to dump me and says she […]
Psychiatric Epiphany Part 1: Walking to Dartford Heath
By Catherine Robinson on 8th January 2022 in 1970s, History, Medical School, Mental Health, Psychiatry
When I was growing up, Bexley Hospital was the psychiatric facility for our part of London. “You belong in Bexley, you do!” was a regular childhood taunt. In 1968, when I was 12, my Auntie Peg was admitted to Bexley Hospital, where she was given a course of ECT and she was started on the […]
Freedom for Tooting Part 2: Desmond’s Hip City
By Catherine Robinson on 31st December 2021 in 1970s, Diversity, Hospitals, Medical School, Medical Values
At the start of the course, most of the medical students either lived in University Halls of Residence or, like me, with their parents. Over time, people drifted into shared flats clustered around the course of the Northern tube line through South West London. I had had enough of living at home, but I knew […]