Sheringham Road

Address: 11 Sheringham Road, Islington N7

Open: 1970-1991

Sheringham Road front door and children’s home minibus 1978-80

Number of ISN survivors that lived at Sheringham Road children’s home:

33: 22 men and 11 women

1970s: 5 girls 12 boys

1980s:5 girls 10 boys

1990s:1 girl

Numbers of children named by ISN survivors and witnesses as living at Sheringham Road children’s home : 93

1970s: 12 girls 24 boys

1980s:27 girls 22 boys

1990s: 2 girls 6 boys

Numbers of children named in other documents as living in Sheringham Road children’s home

In 1983 a file entry stated the home had a strong girls group and that the age range was flexible. It also said children from 29 Highbury New Park and Grosvenor Avenue intermingled (Islington Survivor file).

In 1984 it was reported that 13 staff cared for 7 children (Islington Gazette 1.12.84) and in 1987 it was reported that the home was for children age 14-17 yrs. There must have been a change in the age range of children as ISN know of children much younger there in the 70s (Islington Gazette 7.10.83.)

Residential staff named by ISN survivors and witnesses

55 men and 55 women

Life at this children’s home

11 Sheringham Road: Poem by Islington Survivor

11 Sheringham Road

We went for a drive down memory lane
and looked at the empty space.
I was filled with overwhelming
sadness as I visualised the place.
It was a children’s home where I long 
ago once lived.
All my sad memories came flooding 
back to me so clear and very vivid.

No longer stands its brick work, the
windows or front door.
There is nothing left that can be seen
of its building anymore.
It was like watching scenes
through a time machine,
as I gazed deep within my thought.
I remember feeling wretched,
abandoned and distraught.

I could almost hear the faded echoing
of laughter and distant cries.
Visualising my life back then as tears
began to fill my eyes.

The time has fast forwarded through
many passing years,
since 11 Sheringham Road children’s
home, where I long ago once lived.

I could picture the staff and children
there as I looked around and stared.
The feelings of being neglected,
abused and despaired.
Remembering how I felt back then,
that there was no one who really
cared.
The memories all come back to me as I 
stood there still and I stared, 
As though it was just like yesterday
when I was placed in care.

I was able to map out the area where
my room was situated.
With its green office carpet and the
brown furniture outdated.

At night I would often be filled with
anticipation, anxiety and with fear.
In suspense I would be concentrating
on sounds I might just hear.
Feeling scared and panic as my racing
heart would beat.
As I’d often lie under my duvet and
cried myself to sleep.
I can remember the kitchen dining
room with the tables where we sat to
eat,
connected to the TV room at night the 
staff would meet.
The séances they held at night while
the children were asleep.
No care did they have except
Contempt, pretense and just deceit.

Placing us all in danger, they
continued even so.
Knowing, that we the children would
have nowhere else to go.
We should have been protected while
living at 11 Sheringham Road.
This home was meant to be a place of
safety and a place to call our home.

At the back of the dining area were
stairs leading to a room.
I remember the small pool table in this
dark room filled with gloom.
With hardly any daylight and feeling so
profound.
There were cushions and bean bags
with chairs all around.
The room held the weekly house
meetings where we would all sit and
meet.
It would take place very Monday
evening where we would take it in turn
to speak.

The room was often filled with smoke
from cigarettes and roll-ups.
Some of the kids would beg for fags or 
hunt for used fag-butts.
We were always broke which was no
joke, empty pockets and hard up.
No hope nor care for any help to guide
the kids to give it up!
As there was no one who showed
concern to intervene,
as we were addicted to nicotine.

I remember the tiny pay phone area
which was outside the laundry room.
It resembled a tiny store cupboard
where one would keep their mop and broom.
It had no window and was very small
you could hardly even move.
The phone was situated on the wall
and rarely even used.
Mainly because we had no money to 
pay or make a call.
And therefore could not call our loved
ones hardly ever and if at all!
Other than that was whenever we 
received an incoming call.

I can remember ‘twas in this tiny pay
phone room where my father once 
rang me,
while I sat in the dining area and
was having my tea. 
But it was only once he ever called
to complain about my mum to me.
That was the first and last time he
would ever look for me.
As a child when I was placed in care,
he didn’t care to see.
And I never saw him ever again,
as he had a new family and chose to
forget me.

I can also remember another lounge
situated at the building’s rear.
It had a donated record player which
the children would have to share.
The girls would sometimes practice a 
dance routine in a line to the songs
from ‘Grease’
And the boys would come in to disturb
the girls as they would often love to
tease.
I can still see the old brown shag pile
carpet with the large turquoise bean
bag sat upon it.
I cannot believe the time has flown by.
I feel so sad and I want to cry
As it has all come back to me…

As I looked and stared deep in
thought,
I became overwhelmed and deeply
moved.
I was 12 or 13 years old again,
as I drifted back down memory lane.
I found myself asking myself again,
whether I had ever really grown up or
am I still the same?
A lost little girl full of sadness and
pain,
or maybe stuck in time?
She remains hidden deep inside my
heart and always in my mind,
within my weary aging body
with knees that ache and pain,
through wear and tear and not at all 
happy,
with all the weight I gained,
from all the comfort eating, which
helped to carry my sad and aching
soul,
having lived a life when I was a child as
a little adult in a reversed role.

Even though many years have past
I still yearn to have at last
a childhood which was never meant to 
be
I often ask myself why they didn’t care
at all about me?

The building has been removed out of
sight and without trace.
As though it had never mattered or
existed and totally erased.
All that’s left are memories of a very 
bad dream and place,
that once was, but no longer is, and 
can never be seen again.
And now just an empty space with a
tarmacked playground in its place.
Hidden behind a very tall fence which
surrounds this area and space.
Where a building once stood and they
have now got rid
of 11 Sheringham Road children’s home
Where I long ago once lived.

Job advert in the Daily Mirror, 29.07.1970 (wife can also be appointed as an RSW)

In relation to the above article it is important to know that survivors say that those children involved in the group Black in Care had campaigned for proper hair care and for increased funds to go towards providing for the specific care needs of black children in the home.

The Independent Report on matters related to Jimmy Savile at schools and children’s homes includes reference to Sheringham Road.

Children placed in a temporary ‘former day centre’

A survivor who was age 15 years said ‘ There was a strike in the 80s. Sheringham Road children were taken to Corsica Street. We were told at shift change at midday. It was an unused warehouse. The place looked like after a disaster. We were given beds and pillows and charity clothes.’ This article (Islington Gazette 26.2.82) describes it as a ‘ temporary childrens home in a former day centre’. More information on the Industrial Action page.