Nursing in the 70s Part 4 - You'll need to cut that hair

I had a total of 12 weeks off work. Plenty of time to think about how my life was panning out. I had no real career aspirations at that time despite reasonable grades at school. The family had moved to Eastbourne from London 3 years earlier and I hadn't really settled on a career. Nursing had now become a real option. I had chatted to the student nurses on Alfriston Ward and had observed how interesting and rewarding their work appeared to be. I knew that it was time for a hard to look at my life and what I wanted from it and after much soul searching decided to apply for nurse training.

During the 1970s nurse training was provided by local hospitals and organised nationally through the General Nursing Council. There were a number of different training courses available depending on the hospital location and specialities available. Two levels of nursing training existed that time SEN (State Enrolled Nurse ) and SRN (State Registered Nurse). The SEN training was a 2 year course intended to focus on the practical side of patient care, whilst the SRN training 3 year course was regarded as a more academic route. I guess what none of us realised though, was the extent to which the NHS relied on nursing students to provide its nursing service.

Within a matter of weeks I was sitting in a gloomy room at Princess Alice Hospital with a group of similarly nervous folk waiting to be interviewed. We were a very mixed group mainly female all about the same age, many Irish some West Indian and a couple of blokes. Some sat quietly not speaking, others particularly the Irish girls were all talking at the same time. Little did I know this would be one of my soundtracks for next 3 years.

My interview went surprisingly well. The Head of Nurse Education & Senior Tutor seemed to be reasonably impressed with my application, maybe they used Southdown buses a lot. I was then sent to another even gloomier room and asked to sit a general entrance test. Once this was done I rejoined the Irish lot for a good old listen as I couldn't get a word in anyway.

After coffee we were called back in one by one for a final interview. When my turn came I was told that the school of nursing were pleased to offer me a place in their September 1972 intake. I was both suprised and flattered. My conductor skills had obviously won them over. I joined the other candidates outside and it seemed that we had all been offerred places

We would become very much part of the nursing workforce and exposed to all that which came with it. The joys, the sadness the relentless tiredness and the gradual realisation that demand for care often exceeds the capacity to provide it.

There was one thing though. "You will of course, need to cut that hair, Mr Harden"

Part 5