Tuesday, 20 October 2015

The poorhouse


Contrary to popular opinion I was born, not found. In fact I first saw light in St Alphege's Hospital in Greenwich, formerly the Greenwich Union Workhouse Infirmary. It had a good reputation in my day, and I have been told that it always smelled of the boiled cabbage that was served for dinner most days.
Several of my forbears who were ill went there to die, when it was a workhouse. They went reluctantly and at the last moment, for they were terrified of the place. It had a terrible reputation for cruelty. 
The institution had a chaplain. What did he do to improve the lot of the poor inmates? Fuck all. That's what he did. The church believed that the poor were poor because they lacked morality, therefore it was their own fault. It was god's will (which translates as 'because I am righteous I will it too). Thank you again, religion, for being such a force for good in the world. Hypocrites.
Here endeth the third lesson.

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