I have just discovered that in 1871 at the age of 25 one of my cousins was working at the workhouse in Driffield as a schoolmistress.
Where we lived in York used to be a boys orphanage during the 2nd world war. It was near the workhouse, which is now halls of residence for York St John University.
One summer, we had a visit from someone who lived in Australia who used to live in the orphanage. One day he ran away to his uncle who kindly took him back to the orphanage.
Whilst they were trying to decide what to do with him, they sent him to the workhouse where he slept above the mortuary. He didn't run away again!
I’m a Pear/Apple - Part 5. Still going!!


How low are they going to go?