Hush! It is five in the morning 57 years ago. The long darkened corridors of the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh are silent. Yet, at one end on the third floor, nurses are quietly gathering, as the hard, old iron radiators click and clack their welcome warmth. We each wear a red cape over our uniform – blue dresses worn well below the knee so those ‘naughty’ patients should not be tempted to have even a glimpse of our black-stockinged thighs as we bend over to carry out our duties. We carry lighted candles, casting an eerie glow over our eager youthful faces while our short hair is held neatly in place by starched caps held on with white Kirby grips.

As we proceed along the corridor, our almost ethereal, yet gentle sound of singing echoes along the corridors. Christmas carols first thing in the morning is the best that we can offer to the long-suffering patients.

Slowly as we weave our way along each floor, we stop at the entrance of every ward, to sing ‘Away in a Manger’ or ‘Silent Night’. The strains of the carols pervade the long rows of beds, causing the occupants to raise their heads. Then we move on, letting the sleepers slumber on.

Nearly an hour later, at six o’clock on the dot, cherubim and seraphim are in place on their respective wards with a cheery ‘Good morning’ and ‘How are you today?’ A bustle of white aprons flit between bed and bed with a clatter of bedpans and metal trolleys bearing thermometers and medication. The rattle of curtains being swished at top speed indicates that even routine bed-baths and bed-making are not being overlooked on this auspicious day. The aim is to ensure every patient is clean and comfortable for their breakfast. The delicious smell of bacon heralds the arrival of the large heated breakfast trolley, though the ‘special diets’ are left disappointed.

Once the plates are cleared away, beds tidied, and those able to get up are ready sitting expectantly beside their beds, the first wave of visitors arrives.

Meanwhile, in the background, the ward is left ship-shape – sluices cleaned, water carafes changed and any other task the ward sister sets her eagle eye on. However, we nurses make special time to chat to those patients who are alone.

After lunch – again at an ungodly hour, but still, hot and festive – no pre-packed sandwiches in those days – the beds are straightened once more, and everyone’s needs attended to before the afternoon visitors arrive.

For me, that day flew by. The early shift went off duty at 5pm. I was so exhausted that I went straight to my room in the Nurses’ Home in Archibald Place. Collapsing onto my bed. I immediately fell asleep. When I woke up, still dressed in my uniform, it was Boxing Day. Only then did I open my presents, but the best gift of all was the memory of the day before.