This building has been a bunch of different stuff. A cottage hospital, a military hospital, and in latter years, a college campus. I refer to it as the children's ward purely because after the college came and sucked the life out of it in the name of modernity, the former children's ward is the key redeeming feature in a sea of architectural tofu.
Despite expecting a bit of a one-trick pony, we really wanted to see it. And I, as usual, wanted to lose myself down a rabbit hole of research to distract myself from my unmitigated farce of an existence. You know how it is.
Fortunately there are plenty of photos online that show the building back in its old cottage hospital days.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
And look! There are some patients chilling out under the veranda. We can get a closer look in this other shot.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
It's pretty nice that bed-bound patients were occasionally supported outside to get some fresh air.
Inside we were soon faced with the issue of finding the ward in question, a situation made rather challenging by having to navigate a labyrinth of hallways with very minimal natural light.
If only there were signs hanging up to tell people where things are...
Well, there is, but it's all college-related. That's not exactly helpful.
I am a completionist so I will also be showing the common rooms and all that, but it's all pretty banal.
In the older portions of the building, there's still is a bit of a hospital ward vibe going on, just about.
This building would allegedly have taken its first patients in 1896. There are a few mix-ups with the dates, and because the mainstream media have dug their talons into the pie, the facts are a bit murky. But generally it's said that all of this started with a dispensary founded in 1797 by a chap called Joseph Brandreth.
Joseph Brandreth was a pretty cool guy. He was born in 1745 and was the son of a tanner. That is, his father made leather out of animal hides, and fed the excess meat to his little horde of angry dogs, one of which escaped in 1798 and wreaked havoc among the locality, earning his master a pretty hefty fine.
But while his siblings all followed their fathers profession, running a tannery just wasn't for Joseph. He became a doctor in 1770. Here's a picture of him.
(Image not mine, obviously)
Joseph Brandreths claim to fame is that he's the guy who figured out that cold water would help with fevers. He wrote an entire paper on it. It's hardly the mind-blowing revelation in 2024, but back in the 1700s it was a bit of a breakthrough.
He's commonly said to have founded the hospital here in 1797, according to the mainstream media, but I soon found that their sole slither of evidence is the fact that the hospital was at one point named after him. But this hospital wasn't built until long after his death, and it was named after him because he lived in the same town and was a prominent local figure, much like how Charles Darwin didn't establish the Darwin Shopping Centre in Shrewsbury. Brandreth did establish a dispensary, but that was in 1778 and I don't think it was even on the same site, because this land would be donated to the people for the purpose of a hospital a century or so later.
Hmm... it's almost as if the mainstream media is an unreliable source of information...
By 1880 a lot of doctors in the area were a bit miffed that there wasn't really any local facility for patients who required bed care. The nearest hospital was some distance away. The doctors would often make house visits to sick patients, but sanitation in the average Victorian household wasn't exactly conductive to the healing process. People began conceiving the idea of a cottage hospital, but the execution of such plans kept being met with obstacles and distractions, like having no money.
Alas, the title was dropped for some reason, despite the fact that her friends donated their own money to the hospital in an act of tribute to their departed buddy.
Here's her photo, looking less than impressed.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
The cottage hospital was initially tiny. It had room for eight beds, four for the men, and four for the women, each at opposite ends of a central hallway. There was a children's ward too, but since they totally forgot to include an admin block, it became used for that instead.
The general rule of the hospital was that anyone could be treated here, and they wouldn't be charged unless they could afford to pay for it. So in a rare change of pace, poor people are actually benefiting more than rich people. How lovely. What a wonderful example to set for the world to follow.
Watch as it never happens again.
(Image not mine, obviously)
An article describing the hospitals opening day said that this place possessed everything that modern medical science could wish for in regards to sanitation, ventilation and convenience. It also mentioned that the weather was great that day.
But another publication from 1897 criticised the hospital for its layout, primarily mentioning that the admin block was where the children's ward should be, and also saying that the bathroom was in a stupid place, too close to the women's ward and also used by the men since they had no alternative.
Nevertheless, its existence was a positive thing. I mean in a perfect world we wouldn't need hospitals at all, but we do, so their existence will never be bad, even if they do sometimes suffer from silly managerial decisions.
One of the first doctors to work here was a chap named Dr William Anderton who pioneered the training of local nurses and spearheaded the distribution of the Smallpox vaccine. People were actually fined for not getting the smallpox vaccine... and would you look at that, nobody gets Smallpox today! Something for all you anti-vaxxers to think about.
Personally I'm an anti-vaxxer for far more logical reasons. Why pay eighteen years child support when I can just pay three?
And with my table in Hell booked, let's get on with the building!
I love how the window was boarded up but nature is still clawing its way in.
But what does surprise me is that the scrawling on the classroom white boards is still preserved, dating the college closure as 2011. Although mentioning things like childcare and maternity leave indicates that this room may have been a staff office.
Dr Anderton retired in 1913 but was soon dragged once more into the fray by everyone's favourite global massacre, World War One. During that time the cottage hospital was transformed into a military hospital, and was filled with injured soldiers.
Two notable soldiers are James Wade and Jack Jenkins, who were injured at Neuve Chapelle in March 1915. In particular James Wade wrote a letter home to his family which provided a firsthand insight into the war. He describes it as a slaughter, saying that even though they won the battle at Neuve Chapelle, they lost eight men. He became separated from Jack Jenkins during the hullabaloo and was injured by a German sniper hiding in a barn. He managed to find Jack, injured by shrapnel, and when they finally took the German trench, they saved some Belgian girls who had been captured too.
But what makes James Wade's war story that much more horrific is his mug shot.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
I mean, look at him! He's just a child! He should be doing homework or awkwardly chatting up girls, or ducking calls from Philip Schofield, not getting shot at by Germans. That should be the rule: Young enough for Phil, Too young to kill.
Photos like this really drive home how fucked up it all is, really.
The media seems to focus more heavily on another soldier, Benjamin Crompton. In fact they seem to over-fixate on him. Every mainstream news article says something like "This was the military hospital where Private Benjamin Crompton was treated," like we're supposed to know who that is, and I really hate to disparage anyone who fought in that shitshow, but I can't find any reason why they focus on him in particular. Why, out of all the countless soldiers who were treated here, have they plucked his name from the ranks? I can't even find his mugshot online. I mean no disrespect to the man, but the media is fucking weird sometimes.
But with his body full of shrapnel, the person who operated on him was a fairly notable surgeon, Thomas Littler-Jones, who had served as a medic on the hospital ship Rohilla in 1914. His claim to fame is removing Prince Albert's appendix. When the Rohilla sank, Thomas Littler-Jones actually injured his back escaping from his cabin, but still stuck around to tend to other survivors until he was ordered to just stop already. And despite the fact that his back never fully recovered, he still carried on operating on wounded soldiers.
Among the hospital staff at the time was also Matron Lizzie Violet Macbeth Robertson, and her sister Lillian, who was a nurse. Lillian is quite possibly one of the hospital staff in this group photo from 1918.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
Check out the guy sat on the grass. He really doesn't want to be there.
The local paper did report on the Christmas festivities of 1914, opening with the line "The hospital was gay yesterday."
... It was a different time.
The article goes on to describe how the wounded soldiers had Christmas stockings hung on their beds, and how they each got cards from the King and Queen, as well as chocolate. Everyone had Christmas dinner, including the staff. It was as great a day as can be had in hospital.
But the hospitals workload was steadily increasing. A report from 1926 reveals that they treated 216 patients that year, whereas a report from 1928 revealed that they'd treated 274. Despite having already been expanded, it still only had beds for fifteen patients, and some were sleeping on repurposed couches. It wasn't good enough. The demand for resources led to the creation of the "Linen Guild" in 1926, consisting of 130 women who would meet up monthly to sew bedding, clothing, towels and bandages for the hospital. But it was clear that they needed more room, and this is what led to the hospital having quite a chunky expansion, and the creation of the Children's Ward, which is the reason why we're here.
And it's pretty damn cool.
Here it is. It would have once housed eight beds, but it's now empty and rotting away. It was allegedly last used as an IT classroom, but it still retains many of its original features, including the decorative wall tiles. That and the level of decay makes one gorgeous room.
And over here by the door is the wards foundation stone, laid by the Mayor of Liverpool, Margaret Beavan.
This foundation stone has been photographed by just about every urbexer who has ever come here. But I like to go a step further, just as I did with that synagogue, so I have hunted down a photo of this foundation stone actually being laid in 1928.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
So the lady in black is obviously the mayor, Margaret Beavan, likely holding a trowel in her right hand. The man furthest to the left is Mr Naples, who would become hospital chairman a year later, and next to him is Matron Lizzie Violet Macbeth Robertson, whose name I would totally shorten if it wasn't so awesome. Next to her, hiding behind the pole, is Mr George Le Pan Newstead, who was the chairman of the hospital at the time. He'd retire a year later, cryptically saying that he had found himself unable to continue. They must have liked him because they persuaded him to stay on as the Vice Chairman under Mr Naples.
And I just love this shot. It's grainy as fuck, but it's history. And look at Margaret Beavans face. She's having a great time. I love it.
The report from 1928 talks about the children's ward being built, but also mentions other work being done, including the expansion of the men's ward, three additional private wards being constructed, the modification of the admin block to include bedrooms for nursing staff, and a laundry block.
By the end of 1928, an anaesthetic room and an x-ray room were under construction as well as a new mortuary. They'd also built a garage and promised that they were about to get a fancy new motor ambulance.
And because this was the era where the healthcare sector cared about their staff, they also had plans to build a recreation area for the nurses too.
But what's cool about the Children's Ward is all of the tiles decorating the walls. Check it out! It seems that some genuine care and effort went into making the ward wholesome for the children that were here.
It's so cool to see these still here nearly a century later, but it's also sad that they haven't been saved.
The tiles typically depict children in old fashioned attire playing with old fashioned toys. In a way it's sort of a window into the era, albeit through a wholesome, innocent lens. It sort of reminds me of those vintage Noddy books for some reason.
1928 also saw the introduction of the hospitals "Massage Department," which sounds amazing. Who doesn't enjoy a massage? A lady called Miss Hutton had already been volunteering at the hospital as a masseuse, but as of 1928 they hired her full time, and that year the hospital reported 356 massage treatments.
I actually have the exact numbers of many a yearly procedure. For example, in 1928 the hospital had 427 eye cases, eight dental cases, and 46 abdominal operations. They were very meticulous with their record keeping, and as interesting as I think it all is, regurgitating it here would get boring pretty fast.
Publishing their numbers did serve a higher purpose, in that they regularly put the call out for donations for things like linen, vegetables, fruit, flowers and eggs, and making the public aware of the work they did was an attempt at transparency and proving the legitimacy of their need.
Eventually they did get their motor ambulance, and here's a photo of it from 1930.
(Photo not mine, obviously)
I actually love the fact that they refer to it as a "Motor Ambulance." Back then motorised transport was still relatively new, so the fact that their ambulance had a motor was something that actually needed specifying. How times have changed.
Beyond the children's ward, things go back to that bland college aesthetic, but there's still a few cool things to see.
Here on a whiteboard are all the signatures of the "Class of 2010." That's incredible! I bet none of these people expected their names to still be here nearly fifteen years later. They'll be in their thirties now, right? That's insane! I want to hear from these people. I know I won't, but I would love it if I did.
After that, it's all very modern and samey. Whoever altered this from hospital ward to college campus didn't feel the same need for preservation as they did in the children's ward. Instead their Go-To strategy was white followed by "Trim it with butter."
But check this out! It's a pottery kiln! Evidently they taught ceramics here.
I have managed to find an absolute deluge of stories and memories about this place, but it's all rather samey. It's all "I had my tonsils out here," and "My nan passed away here. The nurses were lovely," and on Facebook there's the occasional grumpy Boomer going "Raaah! I hate the NHS because the Daily Mail told me to. What do you mean mermaids are black now? I'm not offended, you are! I'm not pronoun, I'm anti-noun."
You get the idea.
But obviously I'm not going to regurgitate every single tale, because as valid as peoples memories are, after a decade or so it will start to get samey.
It became a college in the 1990s, and while I haven't found any stories from back then, I assume any college tales would also get pretty samey too.
Here we have the college refectory, stripped of all its furniture but still with a few gems here and there.
The cafeteria menu is still scrawled on the whiteboard. Check out the prices!
I think this is probably the students common area.
Just beyond this point we have another part of the college that I like, and that's the dark room!
So I studied photography in college, which will surprise everyone because I clearly don't know what I'm doing with my camera, but I do have a pretty good idea of what this room would have looked like. Under these signs would have been a trio of trays, each filled with different fluid, and the students photos would spend a bit of time in each one. The photographic paper would be dipped into the developer fluid to make its image visible. The stop bath in the middle would then wash off the developer once the student was happy with the outcome. The fixer would then be the final step, ensuring that the photograph was no longer vulnerable to regular light.
And then it would be hung up to dry, and if you look, all the pegs are still on the work surface!
Over yonder, much to my delight, is the doohickey used to transplant the image onto photography paper. A blank sheet of photograph paper would be placed on the platform, and the film negatives would be fed into the device, and then essentially "projected" onto the photograph paper, although it wouldn't be visible until it was dipped in developer fluid. The machine is size adjustable, depending on how big one wants their photo to be.
The photo paper, prior to being dipped in the fixer, would be vulnerable to regular lighting, and as such the dark room would have had a red light.
And here we have the legalese. Notice how one of the rules is to wear old clothes. Photo development chemicals are pretty toxic. When I was in college, gloves weren't mandatory, but as an adult I now realise that was a bit nuts, although hand washing was absolutely enforced.
The
smell of this fluid really stuck. It wasn't unpleasant, but even after
numerous hand washes, it still made me question if it was safe to eat my
sandwiches.
There's a little bottle of Lith developer here. Admittedly I'm a stranger to Lith photography, but I think it's used for really artfully toned black and white images.
I've heard it said that the black room of the college was an old cinema room, which would have had a projector and a screen to watch movies. I can confirm that the college did have such a room, but it was an urban explorer who claimed that this exact room was it, so it's not verifiable.
Now to head upstairs!
It's pretty nice up on this balcony bit, but apart from that it's still all pretty samey, so I will make this quick.
Currently the future of the college is a bit up in the air. There were plans to demolish it in 2019, but this seems to have been halted. News from 2023 seem to indicate that it will become a school, and that is rather fitting really. As much as we'd all love more healthcare resources, it's already got the classroom vibe down.
Gonna quickly break up the monotony with the best part of any abandoned building, the toilets!
Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs.
And now onto the final stretch, the attic classrooms.
The attic classrooms are quite cute, even if they are a bit bland.
And that's all I've got! Woooo!!! Sometimes my neurotic completionism hurts me a bit.
I'm well and truly going to Hell for making people scroll down endless samey college classrooms, but I had to see them all, and as such so does everyone else. Sharing is caring.
But to conclude... the highlights of this building are the children's ward, the photography dark room, the ceramics kiln and the whiteboard with the signed names of the class of 2010. The rest, as you can see, is rather skippable.
But then who am I to say what people should enjoy? Someone somewhere might love the backroom vibes that come with endless liminal spaces. Some creative person might look at these classrooms and think that they're perfect for the photoshoot that so far only exists in conceptual form in their heads.
So my next blog will be an abandoned bungalow with some unusual interior decor, and then I'm checking out some Greek villa. I'm kinda looking forward to the Greek villa more, so I'll keep the bungalow short and sweet.
In the meantime, to stay up to date on all my shite (in theory, thanks Algorithm), follow my social media! For all my complaints, because they're shit, I'm mostly active on Instagram and Facebook, but maybe it's worth finding me on Reddit and Vero. I don't care for Twitter or Threads, but I'm on there too.
Thanks for reading/enduring!
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