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Christmas was coming and the second, world war, had ended three years previously.
The Nation Health Service was up and running in England, many people did not have to pay for doctor’s visits. People were a little better off.
People had survived one of the worst winters on record – that of 1947.
Children were expecting Father Christmas - they were excited. Anticipation of presents filled their little world.
In 1948 I got a Christmas “present” – I was taken away from my family on the 20th of December and taken to Court where an Order of Detention was served on me. Instead of a Santa with a red suit and a white beard, I was faced with a Judge dressed in the customary wig and black gown. His “present” to me was not something I wanted but I didn’t have a choice. No dolls, no toys and no sweets for me – instead I was to be “detained” in an Industrial School until I was 16 years of age. I wouldn’t see my family again.
There were lots of other girls my age in the Industrial School. Maybe there would be presents for all of us there? Perhaps lots of nice food, games to play and of course there would be a Christmas tree, with presents for everyone under it – wouldn’t there? All children got presents – or so I thought.
In the Chapel there was a crib and lots of candles lighting in honour of the birthday of the baby Jesus. He was born in a stable with just the breath of animals and some straw to keep him warm. Maybe I would have a birthday to look forward to as well – the school might not be so bad.
I was soon to be disappointed. No present for me. I must have been a very bad girl that’s why I was sent to court. I must have done something really bad and very wrong otherwise the Judge wouldn’t have sent me to a place like this – an Industrial School.
Now I know what I did that was so bad, so wrong and so terrible. I was born to a woman who wasn’t married. She was bad and so was I! What made the “crime” even worse was the fact that it happened in Catholic Ireland. I was “doing time” for the being born to an unmarried woman.
I had hoped to appear before the Commission to Inquire into Child Abuse to give evidence of the abuse I suffered as a child while in an Industrial school. As yet, I haven’t been given a time or a date. Just recently I was informed that there was no indication as to when my case would be heard, all this despite the fact that I’ve had my name down to appear for a very long time.
Now as an adult I want to go to court to give my evidence but they won’t let me. Another Christmas, fifty years on and it appears that little or nothing has changed.
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