Great news Caroline. It was such a big chunky of my childhood that it probably has some influence on the rest of my life. I worked in the NHS all my life. The first few weeks at Aston were hard for me. I had no idea what was going to happen to me and as I couldn't speak a work of English, I couldn't converse with anyone. Not one nurse spoke Welsh but one of the teachers did. I must have been traumatised because Sister Johnson wrote to my parents to say how worried they were because I hadn't passed water for over two days (I flooded the bed in the end). I had been there a week when they chopped off my long hair (my plait reached my waist) and fitted me for a Jones Abduction Frame. When I went home after year and half I had forgotten my Welsh completely and felt like an interloper as my siblings couldn't understand me. I went home mid 1952 but when I broke my arm in the autumn of that year, I think that Aston had closed because the children I knew there were in the main hospital.
