This one-act play, written by Martin Summers, is another melancholic look at the past as the future shows its ugly face as an old hospital in the valleys is pulled down to make way for a care home. Fairchild is a master mason who wants to preserve the memorial tablet of the miners' hospital, while Connors, the developer, has no regard for anything Fairchild holds so precious. There is an antagonism between them throughout the play and no respect is earned. I have included an extract from the work that will have a reading.

Connors, tensing, walks around the imaginary foundations of the old hospital as Fairchild, sullen, touches the memorial tablet.

Connors:    You are going senile. The old hospital was not fit for the new century. It was an eyesore and should have been condemned years ago by the council. You will be pleasantly surprised when the new building is completed. Something like this should be welcomed. There will be jobs for many.

Fairchild;    It will be steel girders and no stone worthy of the name. The old building was here for close on one hundred years and it would have stood for another century if you buggers had not pulled it down.

Connors grimaces.

Connors:   You should be going home.

Fairchild:   I will go home when I am good and ready. Mary won't miss me. I only live down the road. The old miners' paid six pence a week so they could have a doctor and build this hospital, Mr. Connors. The stone was brought by cart from the quarry on the other side of the mountain and all the men helped to build it. It meant so much to them.

Connors:    I can see the quarry. It must be about three miles away. Where was the road?

Fairchild:    They followed the old tracks and the distance is close on four miles, not three.

Connors kneels, touching the memorial tablet.

Connors:   Tell me, why do you want this?

Fairchild:   It's not right that something should not be saved. Doctor Morris was a man who would never bloody moan. Nothing was too much trouble for him and the people around the valley respected him and he stayed all his life. He would come out in any weather if a patient was sick. Not like the bastards now. They would never have survived if the mines were still going today at full production. He delivered me and would attend three births on some nights. Next morning he would be at his surgery, seeing patients, even dispensing the medicine. Can you say that there is a doctor who would do something like that today? I do not remember being ill when I was a kiddie. None of us were pumped full of pills like they are now. There was no better doctor than old Sam Morris. He was always associated with this hospital. My father said he was shy and would never say more than was required. (Laughs). He was red-faced for a week after they named the first ward after him. This stone will be all that is left for people to remember how it was.

Connors:   How old was Sam Morris when he died?

Fairchild:   Close on ninety, I reckon. He is buried besides his wife in the cemetery up the road. They lost their three children very young.

Connors:    How?

Fairchild:    Influenza. It killed many back then just after the Great War.