Have you seen the doctor?

The re-imagined story …

Every Saturday Nan and me would come into town on the bus. We’d buy a bunch of flowers from a stall in the market and then walk up Deacon Street to the cemetery.

After we had spent a few moments looking at the wonky little headstone we would lay the flowers on the grave. Then I’d skip off down the steep path and out of the gate to Grandma’s house in Dixon Street, arriving at the front door ahead of Nan.

“Have you seen the doctor?” was the first thing she always said. Before “hello Marilyn, why aren’t you wearing a coat?” or “hello Marilyn I’ve got some chocolate cake in the pantry.”

Grandma was a wizen, little, ancient lady, who always dressed in black, I assumed in perpetual mourning for my dead Grandpa. Old ladies did that in my childhood. Of course, you don’t see that now. These days they get a tattoo and move on to a 50-year-old boyfriend. Grandma was my great-grandmother, someone to be revered and obeyed. That’s all changed as well.

When I was very young, I thought ‘the doctor’ was a relative of ours, but when I came to understand social politics I realised that’s wasn’t very likely; all the men in our family had been railwaymen.

Then one day Nan mentioned that the doctor was a surgeon, one of the GWR doctors employed at the Medical Fund Hospital. Perhaps he had performed some life saving operation on a family member. Perhaps that was why Grandma had been leaving flowers on the grave for more than 60 years.

Suddenly, as happens, life passed by. Grandma died and my much loved Nan took her place as the little old lady I took my children to visit on a Saturday afternoon. We didn’t call in at the cemetery first though as Nan lived just around the corner from us in Gorse Hill.

We talked about the past a lot, same as I find I do now, and then one day I asked her who the doctor was we used to visit in the cemetery.

She took her time replying and I wondered if she might have forgotten.

“When my mother, your Grandma, was young she worked for the railway doctors. The surgery was at Park House where Dr. Swinhoe lived, but the younger doctors lived in a house in London Street.” She paused for a moment and I sensed she was about to share a confidence that had not be spoken of for many years.

“Grandma used to do the washing for the young doctors, keep the house tidy and cook them a midday meal, returning in the afternoon to finish her duties. Remember mind, she was only 15 or 16. That was a lot of work for a young girl to be doing. That particular day, she left the meal for the doctors and went home for her own dinner.

“Just as she was about to leave her house a young boy knocked on the door with a note for her telling her not to return to work as one of the doctor’s had died suddenly. She would be expected at work the following morning. She never went back to her job or the house in London Street.”

It was a sad story. “Grandma must have been very fond of that doctor,” I said.

Nan sipped her tea and I could sense that wasn’t the end.

“It wasn’t that Marilyn. No one explained to her what had happened, or why he had died. She thought she had killed him.”

“Killed him?”

“She wasn’t a very good cook. Her family used to tease her and say one day she’d kill someone. That day she thought she had killed the doctor.”

Views of London Street taken in 2019

The facts …

Albert Ramsden was born in 1852 the son of Charles Ramsden and his wife Ann. At the time of the 1851 census, the year before Albert’s birth, the family was living at an address in the Beast Market, Huddersfield where Charles worked as a dry-salter. A dry-salter was a dealer in dry chemicals and dyes and in the 1857 Post Office Directory Charles is listed as living at 9 Beast Market, a dry-salter and oil merchant. By 1861 he was employing five men and two boys and obviously earning enough to pay for his son’s education. That same year Albert was a boarder at a school in Ramsden Street, Huddersfield, run by John Tattersfield.

Albert moved to Swindon in 1881. At the time of the census earlier that year he had been lodging at 35 Bromfelde Road, Clapham where he was described as a medical student. He had previously worked for Dr John Sloane at his large practise in Leicester.

Sudden Death of a Medical Man – An inquest was held at Swindon on Wednesday, August 31^st on the body of Albert Ramsden, aged 29, who died suddenly on the previous Monday afternoon, at his lodgings No 5 London-street, Swindon, where he resided with four or five other gentlemen of the medical staff. It appears that deceased, when at dinner, rose suddenly and went into the drawing room where he stayed two or three seconds, and then upstairs. On entering his room shortly afterwards his body was found lying across the bed with the head on the floor. The four medical gentlemen present did what they could for him, but to no effect. Deceased it seemed had fallen in a fit, death resulting from a flow of blood to the head. A verdict was returned in accordance with the evidence. The deceased had only resided at Swindon three weeks, having been an assistant to Dr Sloane, of Leicester, for several years. He was a member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and had passed his examination as L.R.C.P. only four weeks previously.

Leicester Chronicle and Leicestershire Mercury, Saturday September 10, 1881.

Albert had died during an epileptic seizure. He was buried in plot A137, the 14^th burial to take place in the new cemetery at Radnor Street.