Short back and sides . . .

Wellingtonia Avenue, Crowthorne
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

  Arthur had an appointment with the dog groomer on Saturday. Susannah unexpectedly had the opportunity to go sailing with Barry, so I said I’d take him to his ‘hairdresser.’

At first, I couldn’t think where the grooming salon was and then realised it’s where the old ‘Iron Duke’ pub used to stand. It was pulled down several years ago and in its place is a small parade of shops, including the dog groomers ‘Dog Scents,’ a pet food shop and a small development of houses in Iron Duke Close.

Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington 
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

‘Iron Duke’ was a nickname for the Duke of Wellington. There are a lot of nods to Wellington in Crowthorne as his estate is just a few miles away at Stratfield Saye. Wellington College, our local independent (fee-paying) school was founded in his memory in 1859.

Duke’s Ride references his love of hunting in Windsor Forest. The Waterloo Hotel sat between Dukes Ride and Waterloo Road and was closed ten years ago and later demolished.

Wellesley Court is a gated development of apartments and Wellesley Drive is a small estate of predominantly detached houses. Field Marshal Arthur Wellesley was the 1^st Duke of Wellington.

Wellingtonia (Californian redwood, (Sequoiadendron giganteum)

There is also Wellingtonia Avenue, a road lined with giant redwood trees (Sequoiadendron giganteum) They are known in Britain as Wellingtonia, to honour the said duke. The Americans wanted to call them ‘Washingtonia’ after George Washington. They were beaten to the draw by the botanist William Lobb. Lobb returned posthaste to Britain in 1853 with seeds and seedlings collected from the huge conifers. The trees soon became status symbols in grand estates, though they will never achieve the height and girth of their Californian relatives.

I duly dropped Arthur off. He’s not very keen on going to the salon, but I left him in the capable hands of the groomers and picked him up an hour and a half later. He nearly turned himself inside out when he saw me, such was his excitement and relief. He looked neat and tidy, as though he’d lost several pounds in weight, and smelt wonderful.

Arriving home, he was greeted rapturously by Roxy and particularly enthusiastically by Gilbert. A few hours later, Barry and Susannah returned, and the whole tail-wagging exercise was enacted again.

This morning, very early, Susannah, Arthur and the cats decamped for London, and the house is ours alone again. I hope we shall see them all again soon.

Which came first?

 

Which came first?

Wellington College

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I live in Berkshire, England, in a place called Crowthorne. It is a village, although the part we live in is actually Wokingham Without, though what it lacks is not specified.

The village is quite large and is not an attractive, chocolate box spot with thatched roofs and roses round the door. Photographs of it will never appear on festive tins of shortbread. It’s more of a place people travel through to reach somewhere else. Since the bypass was built, more than thirty years ago, most travellers now don’t have to go anywhere near it.

Crowthorne is known mainly for two institutions, at either end of the village. Wellington College, situated on four hundred acres near the station, which was specifically built to serve it, was originally a boys’ independent school but is now fully co-educational. It educates around 1100 students between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, who enjoy superb facilities. Known principally as a boarding school, it also accommodates day pupils. In common with many such establishments, its facilities are shared with the local community and offer employment to local people. Boarding fees are around £51,000 per annum. Day school fees are about £36,000.

Old Broadmoor Hospital

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

At the other end of the village, bordering the forest, is Broadmoor Hospital, the best-known of England’s three high-security psychiatric hospitals. Though principally known as a secure environment for dangerous criminals, it also treats men who have never been convicted of criminal activity, but who pose a grave risk to themselves and/or others. It has an annual turn-over of about fifty men and the average age at admission is twenty-nine. Some stay for only a brief period, others are discharged after five or six years. A small percentage, around 5%, remain at the hospital for more than twenty years.

Some of the more notorious inpatients have included the Yorkshire Ripper, who spent thirty years in Broadmoor and the gangster, Ronnie Kray, both now dead.

Current inmates include Michael Adebowale, convicted for murdering the British soldier, Lee Rigby, in 2013, and Ian Ball, who was found guilty of attempting to kidnap Princess Anne, now the Princess Royal, in 1974.

One of the most interesting inmates was a retired American Army surgeon, W.C. Minor. He fought in the American Civil War and afterwards moved to England. He suffered from delusions and shot a man he suspected of breaking into his room. He was not considered dangerous, but even so spent thirty-eight years in the hospital, before being deported to the USA, where he died in Connecticut in 1920.

While at Broadmoor, he was able to buy books from London booksellers and became aware of the call for entries to what would become the Oxford English Dictionary.

Robert Maudsley is a serial murderer once held in Broadmoor. He was the inspiration for Hannibal Lecter.

It costs between £200,000 to £300,000 per annum to accommodate a single patient in Broadmoor. The warders, officially known as nurses, are tough individuals and interesting characters to talk to. We sometimes meet one or two when we’re out with the dogs. They often prove to have an enduring sense of humour, rather necessary when dealing with damaged minds. It’s hard to find humanity in some who have committed heinous crimes, but, as the Quakers advise, we must strive to find ‘that of God’ in every human being.

A new hospital building was opened in 2019, after six years of construction. The old hospital was a forbidding-looking red brick Victorian building, which was considered to be no longer effective for modern psychiatric treatment. The new building is light and airy, with attractive gardens. The aim is to rehabilitate patients, not punish them for being ill.

Plans for the old building, which is Grade II listed and cannot be demolished without official consent, include redeveloping the sixty acre site, with new homes and new apartments for older people, converting fifty-six apartments in the original building, and providing a care home for sixty people. 

When we first moved to Crowthorne and for many years after, 10.00 am on a Monday morning was the time for the Broadmoor klaxon to be tested. People set their watches by it. The sirens were decommissioned around 2018, to be replaced by alerts through social media, radio, and television. I’m not sure how effective those alerts are. Not everyone listens to local radio or watches television. I suppose mobile ‘phones are better equipped to warn people, but I still think a wailing siren is harder to ignore.

Escapes are rare. The last serious one was attempted by a child rapist in 1991. Road blocks were set up and all vehicles were stopped and checked. Barry had just arrived at the forest, ready for a run with the dogs. On the track leading into the trees, the police had erected a tape, on the understanding, presumably, that no-one escaping would think to go either side of it. They stopped Barry and showed him a photograph of the inmate and said, ‘If you see him, run back here and tell us.’

Barry didn’t see him, and the patient was recaptured two days later.

So, which came first? Both were Victorian establishments.

Broadmoor Hospital was built in 1863, and the first patients were women.

The foundation stone for Wellington College was laid by Queen Victoria in 1856, and the first pupils entered in 1859. It was built as a monument to the Duke of Wellington, the ‘Iron Duke,’ and was intended to educate the orphaned sons of army officers killed in battle. 

(Can you be an orphan if one parent is still alive? You can if the deceased parent was the major family support.)

 

 

Crows

 

Crows

We live in Crowthorne, in Berkshire, UK. It is home to two well-known institutions, Wellington College and Broadmoor Hospital. The former is a fee-paying co-educational school for pupils from 13 to 18, which opened in 1859 as a national monument to honour the Duke of Wellington. The latter is a maximum-security psychiatric hospital, one of three in England, and has housed some of the most dangerous criminals in England. It opened in 1863. Is there a sinister link between the two? (insert wink emoji)

The Crowthorne badge, top left of the sign, shows a crow on a branch or thorn. The village is named after a local landmark, the Crow Thorn

There are many crows in the area, as might be deduced from the name. These clever birds are noisy, bold and entertaining. They quickly recognise food sources and follow dog walkers who carry treats.

Several years ago, we used to feed two crows we called Bill and Beatrice, and subsequently their two offspring. They were opportunistic feeders and would switch their allegiance readily from us to others. The ground where we walked in Crowthorne Forest, more properly Swinley Forest, was open and the family could easily see the biscuits.

There are many small ponds in the woods, very attractive to dogs and ducks, and we used to throw biscuits in for the crows. It was amazing to watch them dive down, almost submerge and then flap up and away with the prize in their bill.

Simon’s Wood, where we walk at present, has thick layers of leaves, rotting beautifully into a rich, aromatic mulch. 

There is a fairly large pool which hosts a variety of water birds – Canada geese, little grebes, coot and mallard among others. The crows do not dive for biscuits here.

It is apparent that the crows have territories in which they are comfortable, for when we reach the boundaries, invisible to us, they no longer follow us. At present, we have another family of four to feed. They seem to recognise us, or perhaps it’s the dogs, or the treat bags we carry. Maybe they just watch to find out if they’re going to be lucky.

Crow 1:‘Oh, there’s a human. Let’s follow him for a while and see if he’ll feed us.’

Crow 2: ‘Watch out for the dogs. They’ll steal our grub.’

Crow 1: ‘Children alert. They often drop food.’

Crow 2: ‘Look, more dogs. I wonder if they’ll have treats?’

One of the current family has a degree of leucism, only clearly visible when she flies. Unoriginally, we call her White Wings. She can easily be mistaken for a magpie from a distance.

We also have crows in the garden. A few years ago, when Jenna, our little black Labrador, was very young, one of the crows used to sit atop one of the arches and bow to her. I think he must have been an immature male to have mistaken a four-legged dog for a two-legged crow and start courting her. At least, I think that was what he was doing. I’m not an expert and am willing to be corrected.

Crows can be extremely vocal, particularly if they feel threatened. A crow will chase away a red kite, even though a kite is substantially larger than a crow.

Aesop was a Greek slave and story-teller who lived around 620 BCE. He recognised the intelligence of the crow and illustrated it in his fable of the Crow and the Pitcher.

Is this crow engaged in trickery or is he about to burst into song?

'Me and my shadow . . . ' 

Broadmoor

Image courtesy of Daily Mail and Wikimedia Commons

Many of you will already know that Barry and I live in a village in Berkshire. Crowthorne is not an attractive, chocolate box spot with thatched roofs and roses round the door, but more of a place you travel through to reach somewhere else. Since the bypass was built about twenty years ago most people don't even have to go anywhere near it now. I say that we live in the village but that is rather misleading for although our postal address is Crowthorne, geographically we live in Wokingham Without. (Without what, you may ask.)
Crowthorne is known mainly for two institutions – Wellington College, originally a boys' independent school but now co-educational. Fees are around £30,000 per annum. At the other end of the village, on the edge of the forest, is Broadmoor Hospital, the best-known of England's three high-security psychiatric hospitals. It houses 260 men and costs about £100,000 per patient per annum. During the First World War part of the hospital was used as a prisoner of war camp for German soldiers who were mentally ill. It was known as Crowthorne War Hospital.

Image courtesy of Sun and Wikimedia Commons

In 1952 one of the inmates escaped and murdered a local five-year-old girl. Local residents called for a warning method to alert the community to escapes and a system of warning sirens was established. These are based on the air-raid sirens so familiar during the Second World War and are tested for two minutes every Monday morning at 10:00. The two-note wail is then followed by a single tone 'all clear' for another two minutes. Every school within hearing of the siren has procedures to follow if the alarm warns of an escape. Basically, the schools lock all doors and windows and children are not allowed to leave except into the care of a known adult. It only happened once when I was teaching, in 1991, and it was not a pleasant experience.
Escapes are rare - the last serious one, in 1991, was of a child rapist. Road blocks were set up and vehicles were checked. At the time, Barry was just starting out for a run with the dogs. On the track entering the forest police had strung a tape on the understanding, presumably, that no-one would think to go either side of it. They stopped Barry and showed him a photo of the escapee and said, 'If you see him, run back here and tell us'. They had no intention of going into the trees!
Barry didn't see the escapee but he was recaptured two days later.
Many years ago a patient escaped but was so frightened by the unfamiliarity of the outside world that he gave himself up very soon.
It is thought but not proven that Jack the Ripper, who murdered prostitutes in the London of the 1880s, was Thomas Cutbush. He was a main suspect in the murders, which ceased after his arrest. He was committed to Broadmoor after being declared insane and died there in 1903.
Another murderer who was in Broadmoor for a time was Robert Maudsley. He was the inspiration for Hannibal Lecter. Current patients include the Yorkshire Ripper and the Stockwell Strangler.
One of the most interesting inmates was W C Minor, a retired American army surgeon. He was not considered a danger and so was allowed to buy books from London. Through his association with booksellers he learnt of the call for entries to what would become the Oxford English Dictionary. He sent thousands of contributions to the editor, Dr James Murray, who became very interested in his prolific correspondent and subsequently visited him in Broadmoor.
The hospital provides employment for many local people. It is often said, rather unkindly, that the nurses are more frightening than the patients! | must say that the ones we've met, walking their dogs, are friendly and have a great sense of humour. That must help in a job that could be soul-destroying. It's hard to find humanity in men who have committed such heinous crimes but, as the Quakers say, we must strive to find 'that of God' in every man.

Winston’s late July blog 2010

Winston here . . . p'rrrrr, p'rrrrr . . .
It's quite cold today and there's no sun so I don't think I'll be lying around in the conservatory. I'll stay in the sitting room with everyone else. It's a full house here again don'tcha know. Gillian and Paul and the children come to stay at the weekend. Natch, Tia and Foxy come with them. Gillian and all came up to a weeding but they all got dressed up in their best clothes and went out for a couple of hours and didn't even go out in the garden. I'm only a cat but even I can see that there are things out there that shouldn't be allowed to grow. Anyway, they all come back and got back into their ordinary clothes but they still didn't go outside, just sat down and had something to eat and watched the Tooduh Prance. I'm not much of a television watcher, not like Monty was, but all I could see was lots of men riding bicycles in great big groups. Sometimes some of them raced ahead and then others passed them but no-one seemed to win. The Humans liked it, though.
A bit later Paul and Gillian and the children put their best clothes on again and went out for an evening deception and they didn't come back till the next morning. Then they all went back to their own home, but they left Tia and Foxy here so I s'pose it's holidays again. On Monday Mr Human went off in his car all loaded up with all-skins and safely harmlesses. He was going to meet Gillian and the children at the boat. Paul had to work. I've never seen the boat but Mr H and everyone likes it, 'cept for Mrs H. She's all on her own now, 'cept there are six dogs in the house as well as me, so she's not lonely or looking for something to do. Mr H keeps phoning her to find out what the wind's doing. Well, I'd tell him to just look out of the window, but Mrs H gets the laptop and looks up something called the Met Office and tells him where the wind is and how fast it's going. Mr H could do it himself on the boat but he likes to keep her busy don'tcha know.
Yesterday Mrs H took Tia to see Nadia-the-Vet. She had some knotted string called snitches that had to be cut off her. It was holding her together after her operation but all the bits have joined up together again now so she don't need it no more. She had a huge cut, much bigger than Buddy's, and she had more fur cut away than him too even though he's a lot larger than her. Anyway, she must not go out 'cos there's fluid under the cut and it's got to disappear on its own, so she's got to be really quiet and have lots of rest. It hasn't stopped her grumbling at Buddy so I don't think she understands what being quiet means. She was upset when Mrs H took Frodo and Jenna and Foxy and Gus out for a walk but she had Buddy and me for company even though we was in a different room.
Buddy's doing really well after his big operation in June – he was a very poorly boy then and I thought he was a goner. He wears a harness so that the Humans can help him up steps and things if he gets stuck. He don't like them helping him up onto the settee even when he's whingeing. If they help him he turns round and gets straight off again and then climbs up on his own. He's awkward! He's ever so much brighter now and strong, too. He should be, 'cos he gets three or four meals a day – the rest of us only gets two. It's a bit of a palaver going downstairs in the mornings 'cos he don't see very well, specially when it's dark, so Mrs H holds onto his harness with one hand and the banister with the other and guides him down. He sounds like a steam engine 'cos he uses his nose to work out where he is. The other morning he went sideways and Frodo, who was a bit wobbly that day, fell down behind him and then got stuck between the poles* on the stairs. His head and front legs was on the stairs and his back legs was dangling in space. Buddy had fallen flat on the floor with his legs stretched either side - Mrs H said 'like a starfish' - and he couldn't get up and Mrs H didn't know which one to help first. Buddy was desperate to go out for a pee and she was worried Frodo would do his falling bit. Anyway, she yelled for Mr H to give her a hand. He was still in bed – well, it was just before dawn, so it was quite early. They was none the worse for it and Frodo didn't do any falling. I'm glad I'm a cat – I can leap out of the way real quick. The dogs trip over each other – clumsy things.
Since I've been on short rations, or what Mrs H calls 'a controlled diet', I'm always hungry, specially in the morning but I've still got my lovely tiger tummy. She won't feed us at 4:00 am or 5:00 am– I don't know why – so when she does show signs of serving out the food, me and Frodo makes lots of noise just so she don't suddenly forget. Then we all go to sleep for several hours and leave her in peace. I don't know what she does then. I 'spect she sleeps too! **
Time for a bit more shut-eye. Be good!
TTFN
*Mrs H's note: the poles run from stair tread to ceiling and are a feature of the houses in this area. We are in the process of replacing them. There used to be poles outside every front door, too, but most people have removed them. It's my belief the architects of this housing project were influenced by the proximity of the large institution whose inmates have to be kept securely locked in! No, I'm not referring to the public school but the place at the other end of the village that we all call, quite incorrectly but perfectly accurately the 'Hospital for the Criminally Insane', though, to be fair, not all the 'residents' are murderers and rapists and arsonists – just most of them!
**Mrs H's note: Huh! Chance would be a fine thing!

ABC Wednesday I is for Institution

There are two institutions in the village, both well-known though for very different reasons. The first is Wellington College, an independent (fee-paying) educational establishment which was founded in 1859 by Queen Victoria and the Earl of Derby. It was established as a national monument to honour the Duke of Wellington, one of our most distinguished British military leaders.

Wellington College South Front

Photo courtesy of RTPeat and Wikimedia Commons

Initially it was intended as a charitable educational institution mainly for the orphaned sons of army officers. It is now fully co-educational and only a minority of students are sons and daughters of military officers.The College stands in 400 acres of beautiful wooded land within which is a Site of Special Scientific Interest, home to many unusual ants and spiders. The building and grounds have been used as film locations. ('Lords of Discipline' (1983), 'Thunderbirds' (2004))

Former students include the impressionist Rory Bremner, author Sebastian Faulks, actor Christopher Lee, writer George Orwell, singer Will Young and the rugby union players James Haskell and brothers Max and Thom Evans.
The governors of the College were responsible for the building of the local railway station. They put pressure on the directors of South Eastern Railway and contributed £500 towards the cost of building the station which was originally named 'Wellington College for Crowthorne.' It became simply 'Crowthorne' in 1928.

Photo courtesy of BBC

Four years later, at the other end of the village, Broadmoor Hospital was founded in 53 acres of land. It used to be known as the 'Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum', then a 'hospital for the criminally insane' and now, more correctly, as a high-security psychiatric hospital. It ceased to serve women in 2007 and now caters solely for men. Most of the patients, known in local common parlance as 'inmates' have severe mental illnesses and many also have personality disorders. In addition, most of the population of the hospital have been convicted, or found unfit to plead, in trials of serious crimes. Patients usually remain in the hospital for an average of six years but some have lived there for more than thirty years.In 1952 one of the 'patients' escaped and killed a local child; thereafter an alarm system was set up. This is tested every Monday morning at 10:00 am for two minutes and is based on WWII air-raid sirens. If someone escapes the alarm continues to sound. If not, the 'all-clear' sounds. All local schools within 15 miles can hear the hooters.
Many local people set their watches and clocks by the Broadmoor siren. One inmate timed his escape to coincide with the regular testing.
There have only been two occasions when the sirens have continued their wailing during the more than thirty years we have lived here. In the first instance I drove home from work with my very young children in the car (Barry was working abroad, of course!) negotiated the police checkpoints and reached my house, left the children in the car and approached cautiously. A neighbour came to reassure me and we duly went indoors and locked every door and window.
On the second occasion the escapee travelled swiftly to Europe and the sirens were eventually silenced! Reputedly it takes an hour to search the grounds before the alarm is sounded by which time the inmate might be anywhere in the locality. Once one man escaped and hid in a local house. Another gave himself up – the pace of life 'outside' was too fast and he preferred the security of the hospital.
Broadmoor is home to the mad, bad and dangerous to know. Come to Crowthorne - all human life is here!
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