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An extract from the book "Tomorrow
I'll miss you," reminiscences by Pamela Wright . P.C.K. pupil 1933/1940
Page 62.
The following Hallow E'en we were
more daring. Among the trees in a quiet secluded part of the school lay
the nuns' cemetery. One of the organisers dressed a tailors dummy in a
nun's habit and laid it on a grave. Another took the rest of us girls and
the ever present sister on a walk around the moonlit grounds passing skeletons,
headless men, and hunchbacks who jumped out of the darkness, along the
way. Eagerly but apprehensively we approached the cemetery.
Fresh in our minds was the memory
of a face, delicate as Dresden china, of a young nun who had died a few
months before, and who had lain in state in our chapel for a day, while
we prayed and sang hyms and sprinkled her with Holy Water, before we followed
her funeral procession to Cemetery Hill where we laid her to rest.
Supporting each other we nervously
approached the place where she had been buried. While the 'banshee' wailed,
the 'ghost' of the dead nun with rattling rosary beads and flapping veil,
slowly rose up from the grave, whereupon everyone, including the chaperone
nun, screamed almost to hysteria. It was an excellent drama but it could
have had tragic consequences for we had gone too far. The girl who had
lain the dummy on the grave and hid nervously in the dark to operate it
was hysterical, her fear argumented by our screams. We were given a right
royal dressing down but we had also compromised the the co-operative sister
who had procured for us the nuns habit and all the paraphernalia. She was
in serious trouble with her superior for endangering the well being of
the students. Hallow E'en came to an abrupt end when we were marched into
the refectory for a hot cup of cocoa, to calm us before we were sent to
bed.
My thanks to
Pamela Wright for her permission to reproduce the extract from her book,
and to Sister Margaret Powers for her help in obtaining
the list of the deceased in the cemetery.
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