Written by Keith’s niece Jane.
My uncle’s name was Keith David Taylor. He was born on 21 April 1934. My Mum was 11 when he was born. I am now 66 and a proud niece of this young man.
My grandparents’ marriage was not a particularly happy one and Keith was a mistake I think as my nan was starting to get a bit of freedom in her life with my mum. It was not realised when he was born that he had Down’s syndrome, it was only diagnosed when he was about three months old. He was a happy soul and made good progress. I think my nan and the family were quite proactive and Keith went to mainstream school until he was eight which was quite unusual. He then went to a special school in Leicester called Emily Fortey School. I think this was quite progressive at the time.
He then lived at home with my nan and her father until his death. The marriage had broken down and there was a divorce. As my grandfather was going to remarry, he was judged to have the more stable environment of the two of them, so custody was awarded to my grandfather and his wife, who had never really taken any notice of him while he was growing up, although Keith was over 21 by this time. It lasted for six months and then my grandfather had Keith put into an institution. My nan was distraught. I don’t think my grandfather ever visited him again.
Luckily, Keith was sent to Mountsorrel Glenfrith Hospital, which was in a village just outside of Leicester. My nan would visit on Wednesday afternoons and Keith came home every other weekend. By this time my nan lived with us and when I was old enough I would go with her, which was a lovely bus ride. Dad and I would usually go to bring Keith home on a Saturday morning again on the bus as we didn’t have a car. We would often all go to take him back on Sunday evening. We would do gardening jobs and go for walks in the summer. Watch cowboy films and horse racing in the winter. Whilst my nan was alive, they would go for visits to friends and sometimes we went for mystery bus trips on Saturday evening. Keith loved half a shandy at the pub!
My nan passed away suddenly at New Year in 1963. Keith always came home for four days at New Year so he was there when it happened. He took it in his stride saying to my mum “Don’t worry Joanie, I’ll look after you”. It still makes me cry to think of it.
Mountsorrel Glenfrith seemed to me as a child quite a good place to live. The boys and girls were a mixed bunch. I think there were probably some older ladies there who had had babies out of marriage years before, about five lads who had Down’s syndrome and some with various other minor disabilities. I think most of them now would have been capable of living in a supported environment.
They were looked after by a matron (whose name I don’t remember) and a lovely man called Mr Whitehouse. They only took one break a year together. The rest of the time was devoted to the boys and girls. There were fortnightly dances, daytrips, at least two seaside holidays a year, an open day when everyone visited and always a big celebration at Christmas, which is why we had our party at New Year and Keith came home then.
I think that on reflection it was probably one of the better places to be at that time. I always felt that if he had been born at a later date when the system had changed a bit, Keith could have enjoyed a semi-independent life.
Keith was my best friend as a little girl and when he was on form, he had an absolutely wicked sense of humour.
Unfortunately, Mountsorrel shut down in about 1978, so Keith was transferred to a hospital that had people with a lot more complex needs than he was used to. He didn’t cope well with this and his health deteriorated and he died of pneumonia in October 1980.
An old wives’ tale was often mentioned in our family. For every death there is a new life. Ten months after Keith died, both my sister-in-law and myself gave birth to baby girls within five days of each other. There were two lives for Keith’s special one. It makes me sad that in a more enlightened time he could have had a much better life, but unfortunately that is also true of a lot of people, not just people with Down’s syndrome. He was loved by us all and was very special to me.