St Thomas hospital
I was employed in my previous position in the kitchen and Celines as catering assistant in the dining room area. As I had been there in 1965 I was approached by management to train as a supervisor and I was transferred to a small hospital "Lambeth Hospital". I think my ongoing friendship with Mr Thoume had something to do with the offer apart from my personal potential. He was the Catering Manager and wanted me near by!
I was given exclusive rooms that were reserved for the position of Dining room Superintendent. I had a nice office and with a staff of 8 we provided a 22 hour service for the hospital staff , nurses, doctors, sisters and all hospital employees.I worked in Lambeth Hospital for 2 years and in 1974 C. Thoume was offered a position in Saudi Arabia with better prospects and he left. Immediately a chef from the kitchen was appointed Catering Manager in Lambeth Hospital. This new situation was totally unsatisfactory, for me, as I knew him personally and disliked him terribly. He believed that he was irresistible to women, and I found him revolting, he was for ever touching his testicles as he spoke, and brushing off his languid hair from his forehead...
I told my manager Mr Bibbins that I could not work with him and that I was leaving.
I found a job as a Supervisor in St Mary’s Hospital Paddington. St Thomas hospital was well known for good management and providing an advance catering service, and although most hospitals were run by the NHS not all had a manager like Mr Read who believed in excellence.
I found the catering department in St Mary’s very badly run, and very little interest in making improvements. The servery was in the middle of a draughty corridor and meals were plunged on plates as customers passed by. Splashes on uniforms and trays were part of the service and portion control was non existent. I decided that my training would suffer if I continued there, and I told the Catering manager as much. He immediately reported to Mr Bibbins and told him that I was not happy. Mr Bibbins demanded my return to see him in his office. He offered me a position of inferior rank, as my post in Lambeth had been taken by my friend Begoña Aberisture, and I declined to accept it.
Waterloo Station is very closed to St Thomas hospital and I was going out with a Catering Manager who run several restaurants and coffee shops in the station. He wanted to change bad practice in the restaurants he was running and saw in me a possible solution to his problems. The accommodation rooms were in Stamford Street. (Years later I would return to this very street as my final residence in London)
We had nice rooms and a chef was permanently employed to cook for us. Food was free and plenty and provided at any time we wanted it. The chef was a Spanish woman and really cared for all of us.
Celines, was placed in the kitchen and he appointed me as Restaurant Manager in this very nice restaurant in the centre of Waterloo station. It was very busy and the female waiters were all my senior and set in their ways. When a customer entered the restaurant the first one that was available would run to the door to catch the customer by the arm and without much discretion sat him/her at her table, for they had assigned tables. Naturally this and many other bad practice were not acceptable to me and I left as I could see that I was not going to change them without some radical shake-up.
Celines came running to me on the second day saying the conditions in the kitchen were appalling and she could not take it, she complained looking at her shoes fully splashed. She returned to St Mary’s and worked there for some years as a cook.
I told my manager Mr Bibbins that I could not work with him and that I was leaving.
I found a job as a Supervisor in St Mary’s Hospital Paddington. St Thomas hospital was well known for good management and providing an advance catering service, and although most hospitals were run by the NHS not all had a manager like Mr Read who believed in excellence.
I found the catering department in St Mary’s very badly run, and very little interest in making improvements. The servery was in the middle of a draughty corridor and meals were plunged on plates as customers passed by. Splashes on uniforms and trays were part of the service and portion control was non existent. I decided that my training would suffer if I continued there, and I told the Catering manager as much. He immediately reported to Mr Bibbins and told him that I was not happy. Mr Bibbins demanded my return to see him in his office. He offered me a position of inferior rank, as my post in Lambeth had been taken by my friend Begoña Aberisture, and I declined to accept it.
Waterloo Station is very closed to St Thomas hospital and I was going out with a Catering Manager who run several restaurants and coffee shops in the station. He wanted to change bad practice in the restaurants he was running and saw in me a possible solution to his problems. The accommodation rooms were in Stamford Street. (Years later I would return to this very street as my final residence in London)
We had nice rooms and a chef was permanently employed to cook for us. Food was free and plenty and provided at any time we wanted it. The chef was a Spanish woman and really cared for all of us.
Celines, was placed in the kitchen and he appointed me as Restaurant Manager in this very nice restaurant in the centre of Waterloo station. It was very busy and the female waiters were all my senior and set in their ways. When a customer entered the restaurant the first one that was available would run to the door to catch the customer by the arm and without much discretion sat him/her at her table, for they had assigned tables. Naturally this and many other bad practice were not acceptable to me and I left as I could see that I was not going to change them without some radical shake-up.
Celines came running to me on the second day saying the conditions in the kitchen were appalling and she could not take it, she complained looking at her shoes fully splashed. She returned to St Mary’s and worked there for some years as a cook.
Fortunately in 1976 jobs were available and I could find several posts in one day. From the newspaper I found a position as a Domestic Supervisor in the London Clinic, and I was accepted. The staff quarters were in Noel Street, near to Oxford Circus. All very suitable and I moved into my new life.
The work in the clinic was acceptable and I was well treated. I learned a lot in the new environment and I got to know how the rich looked after themselves. Being a private clinic we had many actors and actresses. Audrey Hepburn came for a face lift in 1976 and she used her husband name Mrs Roberts. Naturally, we all knew who she was. We also had many Princesses from Saudi Arabia who rented all the rooms in a ward to keep their servants at their beck and call.
They burnt incense, sat on the floor as if they were in a tent in the dessert and covered there faces every time a male entered the room. These people never read a newspaper or magazine, they simply sat ready to serve the Princess that signalled to one of them to give a tip to whoever she fancied.
At one point 20 pound notes were handed every time we entered the room, and I can assure you that the Matron and Assistant Matron were in a race in and out of the room.
We had patients that had sex change, breast implants, and hymen reconstruction, as well as more worthwhile operations of plastic surgery to severely injured patients, either through illness or accident. One Arabian Sheikh had had cancer in the face and had surgery to replace his nose, eye and half of his face. The day he was discharged I had the privilege of seeing him putting his turban for the first time in years and the surprise expression on his face was a real treat, he realised for the first time in years that he could face the world again after his long illness and disfigurement.
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