Let’s talk about the people—the actual beating heart of the place. The staff at Sanctuary Care aren’t ghosts who float in, do a task, and vanish. I swear, the head carer, a woman named Priya, knew everyone’s backstory within the first hour I was there. She knew that my aunt hates mint in her tea, that Margaret from room 6 needs her crossword puzzle sharpened (literally—she’s a fiend for the clues), and that Bill prefers to sit with his back to the window. It’s not rocket science; it’s attention. And it’s rare. They chat, they banter, they gently chide you when you try to sneak a third biscuit. It feels like a slightly chaotic, very loving family dinner, every single day.
Aashna House: South London Care Home | Sanctuary Care
And here’s the ironic bit: the residents call the staff out on their nonsense, too. I overheard a 92-year-old woman tell a carer, “Your outfit is lovely, dear, but the shoes are a crime against fashion.” The carer laughed, said “You’re right,” and promised to fix it. That’s the dynamic: mutual respect wrapped in warmth. No one is “the patient” and no one is “the boss.” It’s just people, living their lives, with a bit of professional backup.
Activities That Don’t Make You Cringe
You know the terrible bingo games with cheap prizes that everyone pretends to love? Not here. The activities team at Aashna House seems to have a PhD in avoiding boredom. They do wine and cheese evenings (yes, really), gardening sessions where you can actually get dirt under your nails, and a “book club” that mostly devolves into gossiping about the characters. They also have a visiting therapy dog named Badger, who—I’m not joking—has better table manners than most humans. If you want to see a room full of people forget their aches and pains, watch a golden retriever do a trick for a treat. Instant mood lift, guaranteed.
Aashna House Residential Care Home - Sanctuary Care | London, SW16 5BP
There’s also a quiet nook for those who just want to read or stare out at the garden without being “socialized.” Because yes, sometimes you just need to be left alone with a biscuit and a cup of tea. The staff gets that. They won’t force you into a singalong unless you actually want to sing. That kind of choice is the secret sauce. It turns a care home into a home where care happens to exist, not the other way around.
So, back to my aunt. She moved in three weeks ago. She now runs the morning toast rota (a position of immense power, apparently) and has started a campaign to get a second fish tank for “the grumpy ones.” When I visited last weekend, I found her in the garden, arguing with another resident about the best way to prune a rose bush. She looked up, waved her secateurs at me, and said, “Don’t worry. I’m in charge here.” And for the first time in years, I believed her. Aashna House—Sanctuary Care—doesn’t just house people. It gives them a place to thrive, bicker, laugh, and be gloriously themselves. Even if that means wearing mismatched socks while bossing everyone around. Honestly, that’s the dream.
