End of an Era with a bit of a Rant
Saturday October 15th was a special day for me. The Coram Foundling Association, Annual Dinner. Held in the Picture Gallery, at the Foundling Hospital Museum in London.
Founded 75 years ago for the benefit of children brought up in Coram’s Foundling Hospital School in Berkhamsted. The dinner was destined to be the last one. The grim reaper had decimated our number to a point where it was no longer feasible to carry on.
However, I am one of a handful of survivors still alive and kicking (only just). You would imagine that being such a unique and special occasion we remaining Foundlings might be consulted or considered in the arrangement and format for such an important event. Maybe even given the chance to speak for ourselves. We are adults now!
Not so, it seems. My offer to do a short speech four and a half minutes was declined. Most foundlings have a unique story to tell and the opportunity to air their thoughts and give a brief summary were not even considered.
The dinner was excellent at thirty quid a head and worth it. You couldn’t say the same for the speeches. The opening speaker in a wheelchair started well enough with an amusing anecdote, spoiled by the poor sound quality. The following speeches were lamentable. There seems to be a dust laden practice used by many associations up and down the country That speeches should be confined to the same people year after year. The same clicky bunch of committee members usually led by a crusty old matriarch pushing her own agender.
They mean well, of course, but their barely audible, banal chit chat was rather tedious. I’m sure the hundred plus audience, mainly relatives and friends would have much preferred to hear the Foundlings speak for themselves.
One lady seeing the name tag on my jacket enquired whether I had known her husband at school. She was so thrilled when I confirmed that I did and gave me a big hug. One old boy asked me if I remembered the tyrant headmaster Mr. Holgate and his failing eyesight. He then recited an amusing incident outside the playground.
Holgate was walking past the large oak tree when he heard a rustling above. He stopped and squinted through his spectacles and called out ‘Is that you Hopwood ? ` There was a hesitant reply ‘err – No sir, it’s not me sir’. The event lacked any connection for most of the friends and family. It was a lost opportunity to hear the Foundlings story and for them to express their thanks to the Coram Foundation. The foundling boys were totally unrepresented. It was more like a girlie get together. You could say that’s how politics works today, the voters don’t really have a voice.
Anyway I won’t be denied, so my rejected speech will appear here on Facebook shortly.
