The scene changes from the Dublin of the previous trilogy as the author arrives in Poplar in 1957 to train as a nurse in St. Andrews Hospital in Bromley-by-Bow. In doing so she ignored the dire warnings of the Matron of a Dublin Hospital where she was undertaking a pre-training course that the East End slums were a hotbed of depravity. However never one to kow-tow to authority her meeting with Grace Laing on a recruitment drive decided her fate. At a time when a home grown supply of trainees were in short supply English hospital Matrons went to Ireland on recruitment drives. It was in Dublin's grand hotel lounges the Matrons scrutinised and interrogated prospective recruits while consuming coffee and biscuits. In Bernadette's case this ended up with a choice of hospitals in Birmingham, Liverpool, London and Manchester. It was Grace Laing; the Matron of St. Andrews Hospital in London, whose genuine interest in the prospective trainee's individual backgrounds and reasons for emigrating that decided her choice. London's East End it was.This memoir of her SRN training is humourous, knowledgeable and a snapshot in time of a much loved District Hospital, inspiring Matron, dedicated staff and appreciative patients. However this is not a rose tinted retrospective. There are no ministering angels here. Long hours and hard work put paid to that. Back street abortions, terrible injuries on the docks, chronic bronchitis, tuberculosis and life threatening childhood diseases were the reality of nursing life in an era of primitive diagnostic equipment and pharmacology in its infancy. Her description of the Juju Men is priceless as is her encounter with 'the Randy Dandy'. Other sadder tales overshadowed by the spectre of death are remembered with empathy. For those of you looking for a stereotypical view of East End slums, misery and crime ridden neighbourhoods this is not the book for you. This East End paints a picture of a vibrant, resilient hard working people, as were the majority of East Enders. Yes, some lived in dire poverty but a spirit of camaraderie predominated, and survived being re-housed in far flung suburbs returning weekly to buy pie and mash and shop 'up the Roman'.The author spent 25 years in Community Nursing in Tower Hamlets retiring in 2004. She still lives in Bethnal Green and remains a true East Ender.
About the Author: The Author writes; 'I was born and bread and buttered in Summerhill a hard living area in Dublin. Being north of the Liffey we were 'real Dubliners'. By the mid 40's our Georgian and Regency terraces were advancing into decaying tenements but our wide streets were relatively traffic free and provided us children with an enviable freedom. They also provided hard-pressed Mammy's with hours of peace and quiet because apart from feeding any open beak that darkened the doorway the only time they saw their offspring was when they did a head count at bedtime. Even then it was not uncommon to find a cuckoo in the nest and one of your brood being scrubbed clean by a neighbour! By my 18th year I knew that I was part of a generation whose future would be on a foreign shore. Ireland, an impoverished country with a dismal economic environment and De Valera's deeply conservative theocratic government would not be able to meet either our aspirations or expectations in the furtherance of a career. Our exodus was rationalized by many families as a temporary expedient until things improved at home but I was realistic enough to know that my exile would be a long one. Early in the New Year of 1957 I 'took the boat' to start my nurse training in London's East End. Half a century later, after a long career in Public Health Nursing, and despite having Gypsy feet I have settled into retirement there'.