Doctor in the House

A house built by a banker - Mr Gillett, of Gillett's bank. 'Italianate' - a fashion that was well past its prime by 1863. I'm not sure what happened to him - his bank (est. 1784) was swallowed by Barclays in 1919. His house was bought soon after it was built by the heiress of a man who made a fortune from a machine that made elastic yarn that, in turn, made elastic stockings - Mary-Ann Horton. She bought it, not for herself, but as the site of a hospital that opened in 1872. Despite that short time period, it was her grandson who completed the work

History rolled forward. It expanded, it added a children's ward, it became a teaching hospital. 1930s plans for further growth were put on hold until the war was over and the hospital became absorbed into the NHS - the primary hospital of North Oxfordshire and beyond - The Horton. It is now part of Oxford University Hospitals Trust, whose centripetal attraction has put its scope, scale and very existence into doubt. There is fierce local resistance to its demise. The need to travel to Oxford for healthcare is greeted with sympathy and sour frowns of support. Anyone able to get treatment in 'The Horton' is met with warm smiles and slight astonishment

Both our children were born here, we have been in and out many times over 40 years, for a wide range of reasons, happy, sad and stressful by turn. I'm not sure we hold it in affection, but we have a respectful relationship. The elastic yarn in its history made me smile. I remember, after MrsM came home with a spectacularly successful new bionic hip a decade ago, the struggle I had to put heavily elasticated stockings on her legs to forestall thrombosis. Thank you, Mr Horton