Pat Smyth, a civil servant with the National Assistance Board in West Tyrone from the 1930's to the 1950's, recalls his memories, experiences and the larger than life personalities he encountered on the way.

In the context of housing in Tyrone I have to say that paintings and picture postcards of mountainous areas like the Sperrins and the Mournes do not excite me. The last house on the foothills is not particularly attractive, however picturesque it may be on a print, when one has to plod along a muddy or snowy loanen on a chill winter's day to get there.

As office manager in Omagh, I did not do much of that, but I did make a point of accompanying each visiting officer regularly, and in all weathers, to educate myself and also to boost their morale. It was not uncommon to have to walk in a lane was ankle deep in glar (mud), or maybe take to the fields.
   
I recall that Richard Rowley, the poet of Mourne, finished one of his volumes of poetry on a memorable note. He had just finished eulogising the local scenery, during an encounter with Michael a shepherd, and he quoted the retort thus: 'Ach isn't it sick and tired I am, day after day with nothing else to look at but the damned oul mountain!'
   
John Gorman, an Assistant Secretary, who was transferred from the Ministry of Labour to replace John Godden as Head of the Assistance Board was a man of particular stubbornness, quite ill-informed and insensitive to the problems of rural home visiting.

At one time when the percentage of ineffective visits seemed unacceptably high he ordered us to post notices of intention-to-call forty-eight hours in advance, where surprise visits were not needed.

Each regular visiting officer had his own territory and allowances had to be made for mountains, hills and valleys in planning itineraries, and, of course, to have ignored new claims, notifications of changes, etc. received in the proceeding forty-eight hours would have been daft. Gorman's edit nearly drove the experienced staff mad. But it had to be tried.
   
Soon the visitors were 'fit to be tied' and when things boiled over I decided to tag along and see why the advance notices weren't working. Nearly every call was up a loanen and every one of these, without exception, was impassable with mud. We had to use the grass banks and step over briars, etc. Not one of the first five applicants that we called on had received the notice we had sent out forty-eight hours earlier.

Around mid-day we spotted a post van and from then on we met the postman plodding up each lane as we emerged. He gave us sour looks and no wonder, for he was delivering the notices that we had sent out to each householder, after we had been!

At the next conference at Head Office, which was chaired by Gorman, I rehearsed all this to the chagrin of the author of the silly idea. He reacted by telling us to send out the notices three days ahead, but he was howled down by all the rural-based area managers, since there was no way we could keep abreast of incoming mail and give three days' notice of intention to call.

Visitors needed to take out fresh applications on the same day as they came in, or next day at latest.

Pat Smyth, 2001