Britain's longest-serving nurse hangs up her uniform after 56 years I mourn the passing of the apron. We never needed notebooks in those days, we used to write everything on the underside of the hem. It was pretty efficient and you always knew exactly where to find what you had written. And then it would all be sent to the laundry, starched and the notes would be washed clean away. Patients were different, too. There was definitely much more respect for nurses. They didn't call you by your first name, you were "Nurse," and we certainly didn't call them by their first names. All the patients were called "Mr" or "Mrs." Now it is all first names. I feel that if we are going to do that, then we should at least ask them. I still ask. Old habits die hard. I always say, "What would you like to be called?," and they like that. Matrons back then were firm but fair. I recall a particularly frightening assistant matron, but most of them were very approachable. In fact, they knew everyone, which was so important. Today, we have what are called modern matrons, who are more like ward managers. As a junior nurse, you started your day at 7am, and you were the lowest of the low. You did the really menial tasks. You lived in the sluice all day, cleaning the bedpans. In the second year, you went on to clean the doctors" sinks, making sure the taps shone. In the third year, you ordered mediations for the pharmacy. Nursing still takes three years" training, but it is now all university- based. When they train, they get to write wonderful essays, but it doesn't give nurses the interpersonal skills they need. We made do with lectures from the consultants on the wards. When you qualified, you were ready to be in charge of the ward. I remember qualifying. It was exciting. You went to Matron and she gave you a cap and she also handed you something called Blue Petersham, a stiff kind of ribbon that you attached to your buckle. Matron would sit you down and give you a little talk about how you shouldn't join a union. You can't be loyal to your job and to a union because, obviously, as a nurse you shouldn't strike. I joined the Royal College of Nursing, which is a professional body, not a union. That was as far as I would go. I agree with her advice: I wouldn't go on strike. I'd prefer to stay in the hospital and man the pumps. Back then, a patient with a heart attack would stay in hospital for six weeks and they'd be flat on their back, with an infusion of a clot-buster. They survived in spite of us. After a week, they'd get a second pillow and that was pretty much that. In the early 1970s, I took a four-year break to have my two children, and when I returned I joined the cardiac care unit. Now, the patients were all sitting bolt upright, which shocked me. And then I saw one gentleman pour himself a glass of water, and I rushed across and said: "I'll do that for you" - I was told off by the matron. Back then, blood came in glass bottles with rubber tubing. We certainly didn't have MRSA or anything like it. We had infections, but the bugs are stronger now, as they've grown used to our antibiotics. We possibly had it easy back then. However, I remember one patient on the orthopaedic ward. She was covered in plaster up to her shoulders, and kept on scratching. It was only after I started scratching that the nurse, an old Army hand, said: "Good God, girl, you've got scabies!" I thought I'd get the day off, but no: I had to tend to the patient. Despite having worked for 56 years - many of those on the night shift - the novelty hasn't worn off. These days, I'm a clinical site manager at Southend University Hospital - it's spelt "general dogsbody" - which puts me in charge of 800 beds. Sometimes on a shift, I don't have time to have anything more than a quick glass of water. But working hours used to be longer, with only one night off a week. It was hard, but that's what we were used to. Nobody had Christmas Day off, either. I didn't have a Christmas off until 1960. Christmases used to be lovely in hospitals. Consultants used to carve the turkey. Nowadays it comes ready-plated, which is a pity. We used to give the patients a glass of sherry before lunch, and they had wine with their meal, so they slept all afternoon, which was quite nice for us. We were allowed to have a glass of something, too, but nowadays we're not allowed alcohol at all. And they're probably right to ban it, but it's a bit less fun. Alcohol is one of our biggest challenges. I've seen it creep up on us as a society, but in the past five years there has been a huge increase in alcohol-related conditions, mostly among young people. I remember we had two 12-year-old boys admitted after they tried everything in daddy's drinks cabinet. When the parents got home, one was unconscious and the other was throwing up. So they came in to us. One had to have a stomach washout and they were both kept in overnight. In the morning, one was rocking in his bed with his head in his hands, saying "Oh, never again." I've often wondered if he ever did. Nursing is no more difficult a job to do at 74 than 24. I don't need to exercise, I just keep up and down the corridors. The main one is a quarter of a mile long. However, I started this job with feet size 6½ and now they're a size eight. I have had new knees put in, too. My last working night will be December 27, so I'll be working through Christmas again. Once I retire, a holiday is out of the question, because of my husband's illness. But I won't put my feet up - that'll be the end of me. But I also want to join the Nurse Bank and do some nights to fill in, if they'll have me back. As told to Harry Wallop