Growing Up with Lunatics as Near Neighbours
Exchanging greetings with mass murderers became second nature
In my day, it was known as the Broadmoor Lunatic Asylum for the Criminally Insane. Famous nationwide, just a mention of the word ‘Broadmoor’ would chill the hearts of those who heard it, but for those who lived in the small Berkshire village of Crowthorne, residents were more laid back about its presence. After all, it employed hundred of villagers.
I attended Broadmoor Primary School to which many of the nurses children attended. Our Nativity Plays were performed in the Asylum’s majestic theatre. In the 50s and 60s, musical extravaganzas were performed by musically talented patients including the odd murderer. Coachloads of people from around the region would attend. Even Long Playing records were on sale. I have one still.
For my Mother (Kay Manton), it was a big part of her life in Crowthorne: My parents flew back from North Africa in 1951 and were given council accommodation in an Army Nissen hut on Easthampstead Park. It had been an Dutch Army Camp during the Second World War.
