The life of my friend Albert Bennett, known as Benny, who has died aged 85 after a short illness, represents a chapter in our social history that should never be repeated.
In 1935, at the age of five, he was placed in Cell Barnes hospital, St Albans. It was only 58 years later that he was discharged and was able to move to a Mencap house in Manor Road, Potters Bar, where he lived happily with a handful of other housemates for a further 22 years.
My late wife, Harriet, and I first started visiting Benny at Cell Barnes in the early 1980s. It was a typical Victorian institution. Benny had been sent there by his family because, we learned later, he had repeatedly run away from home. He languished in a cavernous ward, home to more than 20 residents.
When Cell Barnes closed and Benny moved to his own home, his quality of life, experiences and opportunities, and daily routine changed.
The transformation was due entirely to those who cared for Benny over the years, cooked for him, cared for his personal needs, and escorted him to the day centre two or three times a week. They also took him on holiday, to shows and pantomimes, danced with him and displayed endless patience, devotion and affection.
Benny started to communicate animatedly and to reveal a warmth of personality previously hidden. He would shake all his fellow diners’ hands on leaving a restaurant, and loved canal boat trips.
He was remarkably strong and, in many ways, physically young for his great age, thanks to the care provided by Mencap.
