Blessing the NHS

IRISH Nurses: An Oral History is published by Four Courts Press (2025). It tells the unique stories of 45 Irish women who came to the UK to work as nurses for the NHS, and contains many meticulous stories of their experiences, from their training to the everyday stresses and strains, to the fun and craic they had outside of work.

Louise Ryan is a Senior Professor of Sociology and director of the Global Diversities and Inequalities research centre at London Metropolitan University who has done extensive research on Irish migration to Britain. She collaborated with Grainne McPolin who is a radio producer, podcaster and former nurse and had a long career with the NHS, and Neha Doshi whose research focuses mainly on race and media to document these stories. The book is now on its third print run, and reached number four in the Irish Times non-fiction best sellers list. I recently spoke with Louise who was happy to discuss the book and her reasons behind documenting these stories.

Why did you feel it was important to document their stories?

I have been researching migration for 25 years, and nurses in particular were a significant part of Irish migration. I did a small study in early 2000s so I was aware there was a wealth of information out there and some great stories to be told. It was when I met up with Grainne, a former nurse that we decided to document them.

Why did the NHS actively seek Irish nurses in particular?

The reasons were purely practical. When the NHS began in 1948 their staffing situation was poor, and British women were less attracted to nursing. The work was hard and the pay was low. The demand for new recruits was evident from the beginning. The NHS deliberately targeted Ireland because it was geographically close, placing newspaper advertisements in national and provincial papers. The training was funded. Uniforms and the laundering of them were funded, as well as travel expenses, meals and so on. There was a deliberate and concerted effort on behalf of the NHS to entice Irish women across the water to train them up.

Why do you think so many Irishwomen were attracted to a career in nursing in the NHS and not in Ireland?

There were not the same opportunities in Ireland as nursing places were limited. Moreover, you needed to finance your training and pay for your uniform and accommodation and so on. Very few had the financial means to allow them to enter into this profession. Also the idea of moving to a big city like London, Glasgow or Liverpool was of course enticing and exciting.

How did their reality of living in Britain match up to their perceptions?

Some were stunned by the deprivation and poverty. For many who went to work in Liverpool and Glasgow they were shocked to find so many areas still reeling from the fall out of the war. Bombed out neighbourhoods, abject poverty and rationing was still in place when they arrived in the 1950s. While life in Ireland appeared harsh and limiting, they had no prior experience of food rationing of basic food stuffs like butter, sugar and cheese. Whilst the book documents the wonderful opportunities given to these women to come to Britain and work for the wonderful institution that is the NHS, it does not sugar coat in any way the intensity of their job and the reality of how hard they worked and the often challenging social, economic and medical circumstances they were faced with.

Were the women subjected to any discrimination?

There is an entire chapter that deals with this very issue, particularly during the Troubles when some of the patients refused to be treated by Irish nurses. This of course impacted on them as human beings, but it did not impact on their ability to continue to provide a high level of care.

The majority of nurses interviewed for the book are now in their 80s and older. What is their perception of the NHS now compared to what it was like then?

The women spoke about how different the NHS is now. However, they are now looking at it from a different perspective—as older people and some as NHS patients—which

immediately alters one’s outlook. Their training in the 1950s was highly disciplined and regimented. The job was a lot more physically demanding and several of the women now suffer with back issues as a result of lifting and handling patients. They noted the contrast in nursing uniforms; back then if your uniform was marked or stained, you would be sent back to the nurse’s home to change. For these older, retired nurses, the scrubs and trainers worn today don’t appear quite so orderly.

However, as much as the women are immensely proud to have been a part of the NHS around its inception and the post-war realisation that something drastic needed to be done within Britain to provide a decent level of health care, they are also aware that the NHS is now underfunded and that nurses are overstretched and overworked. They know that few politicians today would undertake or achieve such a feat and they have no desire to see the institution become privatised.

Were there any stories that you found difficult to document?

There are some that readers may find distressing or triggering, but that was the reality of nursing then. Many of these young women and girls came from rural Ireland and would not have been exposed to things like backstreet abortions and the like.

Following my discussion with Louise, I spoke with Betty Graham, a former nurse from East Wall, Dublin. I asked what prompted her to go into nursing and how she ended up in the UK.

“I never wanted to be anything else,” she said. “As a child I used to bandage the dog’s leg and play nurses. Daddy died when I was 13, so mum and I moved back to her home place in Ballymena, Antrim. I left school at 15, too young to go into nursing, but my aunt, a nun, told my mum about a Franciscan Convent in Leicester who were looking for trainee cadet nurses. I left in January 1963 to begin training aged 16.”

How did you find working in a convent environment being trained by the nuns?

Heaven. Leicester was my backbone. It was the happiest of places to learn, work and play. We found any excuse to party, from feast days to birthdays. We’d roll back the rug, dance and play music. The nuns were incredible. They taught us the basics of human kindness and care. We didn’t just take someone’s temperature. We made beds, bathed and cared for patients. We clipped nails, cut hair and gave hugs. It was always about human dignity. The nuns taught us that. I loved the experience so much I wrote to my mum and boyfriend at the time that I wanted to become a nun.

And how did that go down?

It didn’t. After six months cadet training I returned home and began my general nursing preliminary training in Musgrave Park, Belfast where I learned so much. At 21 I came to study midwifery at Thornhill Maternity, Johnstone. A few of us Irish girls attended the Novena to Our Lady of Perpetual Help in St Mary’s, Paisley. A girl spoke to me one night, turns out she was in the Legion of Mary and checked in on girls like myself from Ireland who may be homesick or need support. I was an only child and I really missed my mum and home. I was invited round to her house for dinner, a kindness I’ll never forget. Well that and the fact I met her brother, my husband to be, Gerald. We had our first date at a hospital formal, and a year and a half later we were married.

Betty returned to Ireland with Gerald, reared their two daughters and cared for her mum, while working as a district nurse in Ballymena. But following her mum’s death, they came back and settled in Howwood, near Paisley. Betty remembers that for the most part her experience as a district nurse was positive, however, she was called ‘Paddy’ on many occasions and was once refused entry to a house to tend to an elderly lady just after the Enniskillen bombings. The woman’s son-in-law said: ‘How dare you show your face around here.’ “Simply because I was Irish he associated me with the IRA bombings,” she said. “I have never condoned violence of any kind.”

Nothing stood in Betty’s way of progression though. She did general nursing, orthopaedics, district, midwifery, and in her 50s studied for a BSc in Health and Social Science at Caledonian University. Even now Betty talks about her nursing days with such passion: “I wish I could still do it.”

Do you feel the NHS has changed?

Yes. Nursing is about making a person feel alright. That is nursing. Nowadays there are too many managers. They have forgotten the basics of human care. My husband Gerald was visually impaired and spent time in hospital. They didn’t even take the time to put a cup of tea in his hand, despite the sign above his head. A lot of nursing is about the practical stuff and they don’t do enough on the wards any more. We need to get back to the basics of human care.

Betty would go on to work in the Southern General for 17 years as a stoma care specialist. She ran her own department focused on one-to-one patient care, home visits and counselling. She felt it was a gift to be able to do it. Having been trained so diligently in attention to nursing detail she always ensured her uniform was pristine and pressed. So she will never forget the words of Sr Catherine, one of the nuns who trained her in Leicester: “A nurse without her cap is without her dignity.”

Speaking to Betty only reinforced what I have always known—nursing truly is a vocation, and it takes someone with a good heart and a strong stomach, as well as a strong spirit to do the job and do it well. There aren’t many people I know who can say, I love my job. However, Betty is one who did, and always will love and value her career in the nursing profession. The NHS was blessed to have the likes of Betty and so many other young Irish girls who came to Britain to work for them.