Plunge Hill: A Case Study. J.M. McVulpin
having ripple-like effects on almost everyone who made their home here, myself included.
The air is fresh and healthful around here, even in spite of the intrusive clouds of dust, propelled through the building’s interior by the wholesale removal of equipment and furniture which is currently taking place. Tradesmen are noisily packing up and taking away everything – I can hear them now in the corridor beyond my office door, voices and movement, a metal trolley clanging as boxes are piled onto it – yet when I open my window and breathe in deeply I cannot help but feel at ease, a sense that I am safe, here in my allotted upper ventricle of the hospital, no matter what may come. The end of Plunge Hill may be at hand, but the gardens are in fine fettle, and the rhododendrons are coming into bloom after their lengthy winter dormancy. My nanny always said their blossoms smelled like blood and honey. The frenzy and urgency of their fertility is invigorating.
J.M. McVulpin
Consultant Psychiatrist
Plunge Hill Hospital, Spring 1972
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