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Saturday, July 19
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Sat 19 Jul 2008 01:04 PM BST
Working in the archive on Saturday, my son and I fit in a bit of ersatz-golf in the Field, having discovered a half-chewed golf-ball in the woods, and then drive up Church Lane through what looks like a crowd of pilgirms (but not the Father kind), and wait with open window discussing events with a local couple walking their dog while an immense fairground lorry tries to make a very tight turn out of the gates to Toddington Manor. Apparently Damien Hirst puts on an Event for the children and people who work for him each year, and this is the third of three huge trucks departing in convoy. They take the turn towards Cheltenham. Puts me in mind of the disparaging remarks which C.R. Ashbee made about the fair put on for his people by Lord Gainsborough on his estate in Chipping Campden, back at the beginning of the 20th century; to which Harry Osborne, writing as a former child who actually attended that fair and enjoyed the heck out of it, responded with unascerbic point back in the 1980s, his memories, an ordinary person, a useful counter to the better-known memories of a famous man. Perhaps that's the meaning of the shark in the formaldehyde.
Tuesday, July 8
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Tue 08 Jul 2008 02:26 PM BST
"How do we know who cared? and what they cared for?" A life story approach to archives of therapeutic environments and a celebration of the people who saved them
[This mini-celebration of
the 20th anniversary of the Planned Environment Therapy Trust Archive
and Study Centre is based on a paper prepared by Craig Fees for the
Oral History Society's 2008 annual conference, "WHO CARED? held in the Medical School of the University of Birmingham, July 4-5 2008 The original paper included photographs in a powerpoint presentation, which are included within the text below in their original sequence; and selections of video from places visited after they had closed in my role as archivist and oral historian. These are not yet on the Internet]
In this
celebration, I will focus on the archives of the Q Camps
organisation. Why? 1. The significance of Q Camps in its own right. In its brief life (1935-1948) the Q Camps organisation brought together some of the 20th Century's seminal names in group and residential therapeutic work particularly (but not exclusively!) with children and young people, including Marjorie Franklin, David Wills and Arthur Barron, founders of the Planned Environment Therapy Trust; Denis Carroll, Director of the Institute for the Scientific Treatment of Delinquency (ISTD), now the Portman Clinic, and Commander of the Northfield Military Psychiatric Hospital during the Second Northfield Experiment;Otto Shaw, founder of Red Hill School; Hermann Mannheim, a founder of the British field of Criminology; Donald Winnicott, the eminent paediatrician and child psychoanalyst; artist and therapeutic art teacher Arthur Segal. In its two camps in rural Essex - Hawkspur Camp for Young Men (1936-1940) and Hawkspur Camp for Boys (1944-1946), the organisation pioneered a way of living and working with disturbed and delinquent people which stands at the beginning of the history of therapeutic community in Britain, and is still influential. 2. The origins
of the Planned Environment Therapy Trust. The Planned Environment Therapy Trust was the formalised product of a long-standing collaboration among Founder Marjorie Franklin and founding trustees David Wills and Arthur Barron. It began in the first Q Camp at Hawkspur Green in 1936 where the three first met, and culminated in the creation of the Trust in 1966 to explore, research, build on, and communicate the therapeutic approach they had developed in communication together over the intervening thirty years. In a very real sense, P.E.T.T. is the successor organisation to Q (which "stands for 'Quest', according to Marjorie Franklin writing in 1938). 3. As part of the David Wills Collection, the Q Camps archives led directly to the founding of the Archive and Study Centre in 1989.
David Wills, awarded the OBE in 1974 for his contribution to the field, died in 1981. Elizabeth, his widow, was killed by a lorry at the end of 1987. All of David's extensive personal and professional archives – going back to his childhood and up to correspondence just before he died - went to his literary executor, Robert Laslett, a senior lecturer in the School of Education here at the University of Birmingham. Robert began to sort and annotate the papers, but quickly realised that the task was a massive and specialised one, and that the papers were of immense historical significance and needed to be made available to researchers as fully and professionally as possible. His quest for a solution led ultimately to the decision of the Planned Environment Therapy Trust, of which he was a Trustee, to establish the Archive and Study Centre, which remains the only facility of its kind devoted to therapeutic environments in the world. The David Wills Collection, including the Hawkspur Camp/Q Camps records, was the first of what are now over 200 large and small archive collections, with over 7,000 volumes in the Research Library, and over 1,500 audio and video recordings in the oral history collection (not all of which are interviews. Recordings include conferences, seminars, events). 4. As an illustration of the theme of the talk on the vulnerability of archives. Of the records relating to their work originally held by the three founding trustees, of huge significance and accumulated over many years, only David Wills' have survived. Marjorie Franklin's, including the records of the post-war Arlesford Place School and all her own personal papers, were destroyed after her death in 1975 by a helper whose father had been a doctor, and who had been taught that a doctor's records should be destroyed after their death. Arthur Barron's were destroyed in the early 1990s after a severe stroke, and included the records of the second Hawkspur Camp, for Boys. ![]()
The Hawkspur Camp office, designed by Arthur Barron and built by campers. WHO CARED? Oral history has been a central pillar of the Archive and Study Centre's work from its inception, and one of the things we have attempted to do, where we can, is to record with people as we go over and through their archives or the archives they are placing with us. A part of one of these, with Dr. Anthony Rees, regarding the Frank Mathews Collection – Frank Mathews was a Birmingham philanthropist who founded the Birmingham Society in Aid of Nervous Children (1937) and the Birmingham Society for the Care of Invalid Children (1923) - is on the Internet, on RadioTC International. Last week I recorded an entire day with the daughter of the late Richard Crocket, a psychiatrist with a strong sense of the written record. But despite a remarkable set of surviving archival materials, professional and personal, which are now in the Archive and Study Centre, she was able to tell of an immense amount that had been lost. A fire destroyed the Scottish cottage where many records were stored. An earlier group had simply turned to pulp in the damp underground coal cellar of their house. His war-time diaries, a key period when he served as an RAF psychiatrist in Britain, and then in Europe, preceded by a locum period at the pre-war Cassel Hospital – had gone. leaving a gap in a remarkable series. And a sad set of papers turned up as we were going together through his material – a few pieces of random family material stapled together in the centre, with a paper wrapped around saying that this was all that had been recovered following a break in and theft from his car in Edinburgh.
The miracle of archives is that any of them survive. If they are paper, from the moment they are born they are subjected to things that destroy them – finger grease, food smears, coffee spills, dirt, grime – this is true of tapes, disks, film and photographs as well. Paper, as an artificial matting of fibres, is always working through temperature change and humidity change to tear itself apart, and if the acids used in its production have not been leached out sufficiently in the manufacturing process, or if it is cheap wood pulp as opposed to fine rag – and how many therapeutic units running on a shoe-string, perhaps in wartime austerity conditions or their equivalent – can afford fine paper – it is actively destroying itself. The inks fade in light and run in water. Film seeks to separate into its various constituent components – and generally almost everything we create to make a record of our lives or business is actively working to destroy itself. And that precedes the external
influences – the rodents who make nests of it and insects which eat
it; fire; flood; theft; mould; inadvertent loss or destruction.
So, the lives of archives are punctuated by a series of crises. In their youth, as Records, they are politically charged; are handled as transitional and ephemeral objects, gaining and losing value in daily transactions; subject to loss and subject to envy, curiosity and fear. One of the first members at Hawkspur Camp gained access to his records and private correspondence about him, which focused minds in the Q Camps organisation on the lack of locks at the Camp (there were no locks on principle), the need for records to be held locally and therefore useable but also safe and therefore the need to return them to London far from the camp in rural Essex where they could be locked up. It is a recurrent theme in therapeutic environments, certainly in the oral dimension. Two boys in a school whose archives we hold held staff captive in the staff room at knife point, and went through their papers, and such things have happened elsewhere. But these crises focus the mind on archives when they are still alive and young, when they are Records. When they cease to be current they become Problematic. Very few places make a specific provision for non-current material. In a therapeutic environment where the care and treatment of the individual and the group is the primary and overwhelming task, it is generally no one's specific business to look after records which are no longer current. If they are not disposed of, then spaces out of the way are found for them. If it is no one's specific task to look after them, it is also no-one's specific task to get rid of them. They accumulate.
And here in this no man's land of temporal silence, human things occur. Stored in black bags to protect them, archives of the founder of Hengrove School – one of the earliest to arise out of the Second World War, when so much innovation was needed and bloomed – are mistaken for rubbish and thrown away. Contrariwise, a new head of another special residential school, which also arose from the ashes of World War Two, throws everything out, and the little that now remains – a photograph album from the 50s with little else – was pulled surreptitiously from the skip by staff. Archives themselves rarely tell their own story directly. Their history is contained to a certain extent indirectly, in their absences and structures. But more fully and exclusively their story is contained in the oral testimony of those, and about those, who have cared for them. Without that recorded recollection, we often know nothing. Archives which are able to go on living in the home or around the buildings of a person or place to which they belong - and in which they have proximal meaning - have one set of possible stories. When a place closes or a person dies, or the records are moved elsewhere for someone's convenience, another set of stories enters. The old ones remain in place, but the archives now become orphans. And then who cares? A house with wall-shelves full of personal records where I go to record an interview is refined by the time they come to the Archive to a suitcase and a box. An academic specialising in Education, who spent part of her childhood in care, is visiting a residential school, and to her surprise discovers the head destroying records relating to the place where she had been, which had been left at some point presumably for safekeeping. Collecting archives and recording about Chalvington School, the former Director takes a phone call about Dartmouth House, a place for mothers and children, which is closing. He mentions the Archive and Study Centre, but the metaphorical line, as it were, subsequently falls silent and the records disappear. Over a decade later I am gathering the archives of the Cumberlow Community, in London, which has closed, and out comes a pile of salvage bags, Dartmouth House material, put together hurriedly in its closing and left at Cumberlow for safe keeping. The Wennington School Archives went with the school's last head to his new school at Great Ayton, where they were looked after, and from which former Wennington students intent on ensuring their permanent welfare could give them a further temporary home, carry out research into possible placements, and ultimately bring them to the Archive and Study Centre. Several years ago another collection from another residential special school was loaded off the back of a van on a rainy night into the vaults of an accommodating city archives, where they remained unaccessioned before coming here because they really didn't belong there. Remaining school staff had brought them in before the school and its people evaporated entirely into the aether, almost literally: The wall of absence of information about a place and the children and staff who were there is almost fully impenetrable once the place is closed and the archives disappear. A West Midlands county official phoned me once to find out whether the County had responsibility for an old closed children's home mentioned on our web-site. They themselves didn't have any records. We had a single sheet of letterhead among the correspondence of one of our archive collections, which showed that, yes, it did, or at least the County's old Education Department had. The loss of archives creates an impenetrable silence, which can only be pierced, when it is pierced, through oral history. Academics, former staff, researchers sometimes hold onto material after a place closes with the intention of doing something with them; and those too, more often than not disappear; and reappear, if they do reappear, through the connectingness of oral history. That any archives survive is remarkable, and that they survive closure more remarkable still. So the Q Camp records, and the people who saved them, are even more significant.
But does it matter? A man who was at Bodenham Manor School as a child says in a personal communication that it does: "to
have archives and paperwork to say yes you did live here, yes this
was your home and yes most of these people cared about you, is very
important..." The stillness when something falls into place for someone (see Mini-Celebration 2, below - "The 'Why' of the Archive and Study Centre") says it does.
A Brief history of the Q Camps archives
The Conditions in Hawkspur Camp itself ought to have prevented their survival. When compared with the fate of places which had their own buildings, in cities and towns, many of which are still standing, the improbability of this rural pioneering venture securing its records - living in tents and building their own wooden huts and meeting rooms, trying to grow their own food, living in rain and mud, nearly closing before the end of the first year due to the lack of funds, taking a wide range of members, from neurotic to psychotic, because the Camp could not fully choose their intake - and passing them through the beginning of war to our own time is awesomely impressive.
The breach of confidential files early in the life of the camp meant that confidential material had to be sent and stored in London; Marjorie Franklin said she would resign otherwise. There were several postal deliveries in those days, and the Camp Chief, David Wills, was inundated with correspondence from the Honorary Secretary, Marjorie Franklin, in her dreadful handwriting. She would write two or three letters a day, each day, sometimes repeating herself, demanding responses, sometimes forgetting answers, and, of course, with the crossing of posts. David Wills had no secretary, and himself seems to have had to produce the duplicates which case conferences and such like required ('4' she notes in one letter) not always with the benefit of carbons. "The Camp Chief is sometimes called from his office by "crises" which can prevent documents being copied by a definite date," Marjorie Franklin helpfully explained in a 1936 letter to the administrator at the ISTD (Institute for the Scientific Treatment of Delinquency - now the Portman Clinic) "but the work does get done eventually and will be sent you for the files." ![]()
Marjorie Franklin letters - Sometimes two or three a day
With the beginning of war the Essex camp came to an end, and briefly relocated to the poorhouse in Bicester, Oxfordshire, where a new intake of unbilletable boys mixed with the rump of older disturbed campers, in bare and unfriendly buildings and with a bit of a hostile local police force thrown in. After several months in which the old campers were found alternative accommodation and the initial chaos settled into a kind of therapeutic milieu, David Wills moved up to Peebles in Scotland, to open a hostel and school for unbilletable boys for the Edinburgh Society of Friends. It was 1940, and with bombing in London, and with the danger of damage through damp, the Q Camps Committee agreed to send the case notes and other Q Camps records up to Scotland for safe keeping. Their train was bombed near Birmingham, the package containing the archives was burned and then doused with water. But the records had been insured, and were therefore given special handling, dried, returned to the Q Camps Committee where T.C. Bodsworth (who had been instrumental in arguing that damp and bombing would damage the records; described as the 'resident camp bursar' he had previously and subsequently been on the staff of the Lingfield Epileptic Colony. Given that David Wills' mentor, Stuart Payne, was also on the staff there, and that David Wills had first met Arthur Barron there, it must have been a dynamic and progressive institution), fully dried and repackaged them again, and sent back up by what turned out to be an anxiety-inducingly series of slow trains. That it was a right decision is laid out in a letter Marjorie Franklin wrote to David Wills on May 6, 1941:
The West Central Jewish Girls' Club and Institute and the day settlement (and of course Q Camps office) attached had a direct hit from a land mine and are now a heap of stones. The 27 killed include Miss Paynter (Secretary) and Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson (caretakers) and 2 of their children - a third was evacuated.
Records of 50 years social and other work have been lost.
Well, good bye
Yrs sincerely
MEF
Then the Q Camps records as identifiable entities disappear. There is an early note suggesting that when David Wills moved he boxed the files and included them with his personal furniture. From Peebles he moved in 1945 to Woodbroke, the Quaker study centre here in Birmingham; had several short-term appointments while waiting to open a new school for maladjusted children for the Birmingham Society for the Care of Invalid and Nervous Children, in Herefordshire; was finally able to start there in 1949 and stayed till 1961, his plans to retire from Bodenham interrupted by intractable disagreements with the governing body; and then moved several times again in short-term appointments before finally retiring and moving to Hook Norton in the Cotswolds. He died in 1981, and his widow Elizabeth (who had once been Head of Occupational Therapy at Yardley Green Chest Hospital, in Birmingham) in 1987. The records of Q Camp then resurface, in the hands of David Wills' literary executor, Robert Laslett. At that point they had an enhanced meaning, as the records of a place, a generation, a man, and a team which directly and indirectly had an immense influence on 20th century residential child care and policy; and (as outlined above) led to the founding of the Planned Environment Therapy Trust Archive and Study Centre. ![]()
Robert Laslett, at work in the early days of the Archive and Study Centre
In his 2002 notes to Oral History Society trainers, Rob Perks quotes Dr. Johnson on the origins of the term 'oral history' – "You are to consider that all history was at first oral." And he notes the work of the Venerable Bede, which brought oral and archival stories together into the Ecclesiastical History of the English People.
Oral history is defined by the presence and absence of archives, and archives-based history. The absence of archives makes oral history absolutely necessary. Their presence – archives and oral history together – gives our understanding of life and the past a much greater fullness than either does alone. By and large archives – except in their structures and absences – are silent about themselves. They are an essential part of the story, but it is a largely occluded part of the story.
It does matter, and this is a plea to
oral historians, when carrying out an oral history, to record the story of
the records, and the story of those who have cared enough to save them from the irretrievable silence of loss and destruction.
W. David Wills, in official mode
W. David Wills, in camping mode
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Tue 08 Jul 2008 01:17 PM BST
The 'Why' of PETT Archive and Study Centre reprinted from TC News 2: Summer 2006, pp. 20-21
Several years ago a lady in America rang. Her British-born husband of 20 years had suddenly disappeared from their apparently happy marriage. In going through his things in a desperate attempt to find something which made sense, she stumbled onto a dimension of his life about which she had known nothing: his childhood, and more specifically his time in a therapeutic community, which was mentioned on our web site. What was a therapeutic community? Why would a child be sent there? Our presence on the Internet also brought an email from a man who had spent time during the Second World War in a therapeutic camp for troubled and troublesome children. His son had found us and encouraged him to get in touch. After a phone call he came up from Essex, with his wife of very many years, to record his memories for the oral history collection on the one hand, and to gather from the archives what he could to help his still-fragmented childhood to coalesce into something coherent on the other. He had been evacuated from the south coast with his younger brother, who was enuretic, leading to multiple placements in homes around Bedford. His parents split up and his brother returned to their mother. Their four year old sister had been evacuated to Gloucestershire, where she was adopted - he did not see her again until she was 18, and did not see his father again until the last years of his father's life. He found himself breaking into a cafe and stealing ten pence worth of stuff, then in the therapeutic camp, and then in a training ship approved school - "horrific, brutal establishment, absolutely brutal... I've still got cuts on my body now" from other boys who came in the night with razors "as you slept in your hammocks" to create terror. Fourteen boys drowned one day in a single escape attempt. He was a lovely man, with a successful marriage, family and career, and felt he owed much to the Camp. What could the archives tell him? The telephone rings. It is a young man who has to find someone or some way to prove that he was in a particular therapeutic school, now closed. He is emigrating, and he needs the information to get a job in the new country.
A middle-aged daughter rings for her mother who, in her 90s, is trying to settle the story of her brother, who disappeared into the pre-war mental health system wreathed with unsatisfactory family stories. The daughter's distress at an infinite hall of blank walls evaporates when we share what we have; and it is clear that something more than the uncle or mother's lives have fallen into place. As archivists we - or some of us - sometimes speak of archives as 'forms of social memory', as if archives fulfilled the role within society that memory does within an individual. To some extent that is the case. A group or society that distorts, neglects or loses its records becomes like the person who is straight-jacketed in their own narrow and self-confirming story of the world, growing increasingly irrelevant, or destructive, or incapable of creative change, and determined by external forces; or who ceases - like an Alzheimer's patient, or a person with dementia - to be, except by the grace and definition of others. But memory is a very particular and dynamic aspect of a human being's presence and belonging in the world. Its richness, its definition, its accuracy, depth and accessibility determine who as well as how we are. Archives are different. They are not memory in and of themselves, but substitutes and adjuncts to memory. Where memory fails, where it is absent, or where it has been distorted or dismembered by experience, archives can step in. A disturbed childhood, an obscuring family narrative, an apparently meaningless act, a moment of time with no foundation can acquire, through archives, something of order; of meaning; of grounding; even of healing. The stillness of things falling into place does not last long. The new or renewed capacity for curiosity and moving-on kicks in almost immediately. 'Getting there' with the enquirer can be an emotional roller coaster for the archivist - perhaps a subject for another article. More difficult is not getting there. But the rewards of being an archivist in a charity which holds records of broken and disrupted lives, when that noise starts up - of the past falling into its place and new things growing - is immense. Craig Fees Planned Environment Therapy Trust Friday, June 27
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Fri 27 Jun 2008 03:09 PM BST
Spent the day here at the Archive with Ruth Crocket, Richard Crocket's daughter. (Who was Richard Crocket? Founding Director of the Ingrebourne Centre therapeutic community, and founding member of the Association of Therapeutic Communities? See brief biographical article). Going through trunks of material which came out of the house in Oxford after Richard died, and stored here until Ruth had had a chance to go through and set aside material not intended for deposit. Not so much of the latter, as it turns out, at least on first viewing; but while going through objects and manuscripts some interesting and exciting things emerge. A plan for a cottage sharing scheme which he realised later is sketched out as early as 1960, a working out of psychotherapeutic community processes in an everyday environment. Tuning forks and a variety of knee hammers from his neurological testing days. A reconnection letter from Bonn, immediately after the Second World War, illustrating in one life the immense destructiveness of the Nazi regime on German citizens who did not wholeheartedly support it. Material on his visits to Germany before the war, as a boy. Personal and family correspondence, pre-war and post. Research material from his time as tutor in psychiatry at the University of Leeds, 1950-1954. Drawings and paintings. Published and unpublished writing. An immense amount of material, now waiting to be catalogued.
Among the manuscripts there is a four page sketch that begins: "On the use of the word 'enemy' Sutherland [this will be his friend and colleague Jock Sutherland, with whom he trained before the war] remarked on Wednesday that the question 'What would your worst enemy say about you if asked?', included in that battery of tests given to officer candidates, elicted the reply "I have no enemies" in a moderate proportion of cases. Miller has therefore modified his question to 'What would a severe critic say about you.' But Bion concluded that the question ought to be left unaltered as, he said, a man without enemies was immature and not qualified for officer status. It is a matter involving a delicate nuance of meaning..." The whole of the manuscript is reproduced with Ruth's permission in pdf format here Wednesday, June 25
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Wed 25 Jun 2008 01:08 PM BST
2008.023 Wooden sign
![]() March 2004: The old sign on the right replaced by the new, on the left Wooden sign? (a mere wooden sign...?)20th anniversary Mini-Celebration 1.Back in the cold wet winter of 1997 the old school sign which stood on the road for many years was taken down and painted over. "Archive and Study Centre" was printed in seven sections in large letters on A4 photocopy paper using the old Atari computer and laser printer, cut up and glued to the painted board with exterior wood glue. The Atari was the Archive's first computer, bought secondhand well before the computer wars assigned Atari to the shelves of history and Evesham Micros, from which it had originally been bought, moved from the corner of Bridge and Mill Streets in the lower side of Evesham to the Four Pools Industrial Estate on the edge (what a friendly outfit they were! servicing Ataris well after the world at large had abandoned them to obsolescence) before their final move to the new purpose built enterprise estate on the outskirts of town, from which the whole world came to know of them. Several coats of yacht varnish over several nights while the children were in bed, and computer-printed paper became a temporary sign, designed to last perhaps a year. Bolted firmly to a post in the wake of a spate of local vandalism, the sign stood on the right hand side of the entrance drive for the next six and a half years. Replaced in March 2004 by a commercially printed metal sign, it was moved to the left of the entrance where it continued to guide people in for the next four years. Handmade, warm and reliable beyond original expectation, embodying much of the history and ethos of the Archive and Study Centre, it was finally retired, ten and a bit years after first going into temporary service, in the June of this year. 2008. Friday, June 20
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Fri 20 Jun 2008 02:44 PM BST
![]() In 2009 the Planned Environment Therapy Trust Archive and Study Centre will celebrate its 20th year. Over the next six months we plan a series of mini-celebrations of the work and history of the Centre, largely online, and invite anyone with memories and recollections to share them. Visions of the future? Share those as well. Keep in touch with updates here at http://news. *** The Planned Environment Therapy Trust Archive and Study Centre is the only facility of its kind in the world devoted to therapeutic communities and environments. It is
- a recognised archive within the United Kingdom; listed on the international UNESCO Archives Portal; sited in rural Gloucestershire; still growing;
It holds over
- 200 archive collections, 7000 books and monographs (many of them rare, unique and/or irreplaceable), 1500 discrete audio/video/oral history items;
- a variety of museum objects, among which are a hand-adzed refectory table designed for Peper Harow therapeutic community; toys and blocks related to Dr. Margaret Lowenfeld; paintings by Mary Barnes, Elizabeth Collyer (who lived and worked at Withymead), and Dr. Marjorie Franklin; woodwork produced at Peredur.
It is very much, well worth, celebrating.
![]() Thursday, June 19
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Thu 19 Jun 2008 02:31 PM BST
2008.021 Photograph, "Eaton Hill Therapeutic Community" taken and sent by Geraldine Curtis
![]() Eaton Hill in Derbyshire had two children in its care at the beginning of 1948, when it opened as a children's home. From 1981 it began to develop a specifically therapeutic culture "providing a high standard of care, treatment and perseverance when working with traumatised and damaged young people who exhibit various forms of anti-social behaviour. Many have a history of failure or rejection in other community and residential placements", according to its entry in the directory of the Charterhouse Group of Therapeutic Communities. It closed it doors on September 14, 2004. The entry describes the house as "attractively furnished and decorated to give a feeling of homely warmth and comfort", and "set in three acres of parkland surrounded by woods and pasture....the physical surroundings of the house and grounds provide an environment which helps our residents feel secure and valued; a place where their fears and anxieties can be identified and resolved." It goes on to say "Together with the overall environment and therapeutic culture, we aim to give a clear and overt message about individual behaviour, group expectations, shared responsibilities, the need for warmth and self-expression, and the value of the individual - powerful factors in stimulating personal growth, enabling development towards maturity." Geraldine Curtis teaches art to adults and piano, lives locally, and has a blog which mentions the therapeutic community, and through which the Archive made contact. She has taken a set of photographs of Eaton Hill, and has made them available on Flickr. Monday, June 9
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Mon 09 Jun 2008 11:50 AM BST
The cover of the March 2003 issue of the Joint Newsletter, number 7 (http://www.pettarchiv.org.uk/jointnewsletter/7.pdf) carries the face of Julian Maclaren-Ross, cult English author and resident for a time in Northfield Military Psychiatric Hospital, a rare witness of the Northfield Experiments from the side of the client. Inside the issue is published a short story he wrote for the Northfield patients' magazine, found among Northfield pioneer S.H. Foulkes' papers at the Wellcome Library (http://library.wellcome.ac.uk/doc_WTL039939.html )
"Julian Maclaren-Ross: Selected Letters", edited by Paul Willetts, published by Black Spring Press, London, at £9.95. £6.56 from Amazon.uk Tuesday, January 29
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Tue 29 Jan 2008 12:13 PM GMT
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Tue 29 Jan 2008 11:50 AM GMT
2007.078 Post-closure files related to Eaton Hill Therapeutic Community
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Tue 29 Jan 2008 11:47 AM GMT
2007.077: Twelve books from the library of Dr. David Millard, including:
Social
Work Practice in Health Care: Carel Bailey Germain Sunday, October 28
by
Dr. Craig Fees
on Sun 28 Oct 2007 08:19 PM GMT
1) Contain and carry and the anxieties and
feelings of both staff and guests 2) Have great expertise in working with
borderline and psychotic guests 3) Have an extensive network of friends and
colleagues who can support the Centre on all levels, clinical and practical 4) Ensure the survival of the Centre as a PsychoSocial facility Managerial
responsibilities:
2. To attend AHA
Board of Trustees meetings, and together with the Centre Manager to ensure that
the appropriate information is communicated to the Trustees as required. 3. To be responsible for ensuring, in
conjunction with the Centre Manager, the appropriate supervision and support of
all staff and students involved in the work of the Centre. 4.To ensure,
together with the Centre Manager, appropriate levels of clinical cover at all
times.
1. Be the
responsible person for the Crisis Centre 2. To ensure, in
liaison with the Centre Manager, that the standards of treatment and care of
guests are maintained according to the requirements of the CSCI (including the
appropriate keeping of medical and clinical records, the fulfilment of care
plans and contracts with purchasers and working within the AHA’s business plan)
3. Be available to
liaise with CSCI Inspector Clinical
responsibilities:1. To direct all
aspects of the work of the Crisis Centre.
2. Supervise the
work of the Team Leaders, Art Therapist and Movement Therapist through the
Wednesday clinical meetings, clinical seminars and individual supervision. 3. Supervise the
work of the Resident Therapists through the Wednesday clinical meetings,
clinical seminars and group supervision. Maintain a good working relationship
with the Consultant supervising the Residential Therapists (RTs) 4. Ensure that the
cover staff and students on placement are
adequately supervised. 5. Maintain a good
working relationship with the Clinical Consultant, at present Paul Williams, to
develop and expand the clinical work of the Centre. 6. Maintain a good
working relationship with the Consultant Psychiatrist covering the Centre. 7. Maintain a good
working relationship with the Centre GP, Dr. Wardle and her practice. 8. Help to
organise and chair the bi-yearly clinical conferences. 9. Promote and
maintain the Journal of the Crisis
Centre 10. Promote and
maintain clinical standards of the CC. 11. Promote Follow-up
Research Project on work of the Centre
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