Memories of Bridport
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Year: 1940s
Visitation Convent -Bridport-Contd. New Added Today
We soon got back into the routine and before long the summer holidays came along. The last day of school was a big event. That morning we got eggs for breakfast. That was so, when we got home and our parents asked what we had for breakfast we said, we had eggs. That was the only time in the entire term we got eggs. I used to dream of a meal, where I had a large plate of a dozen boiled eggs. That to me was a feast. The reality was every morning for breakfast we had lumpy porridge and a slice of bread and butter and a cup of tea. We were made to eat the porridge whether we liked it or not. The trouble was the porridge had large lumps in it, which was so awful that in attempting to swallow them I kept drinking large mouthfuls of tea with it. The result was, I threw up all over the table. Sometimes for lunch we had boiled tripe. In a restaurant, tripe is served with sauces and wine, we got it just boiled, tripe is the lining of a sheep’s stomach and is totally disgusting to eat. Teatime we had bread and jam and a cup of tea. Unlike Oliver Twist, I cannot ever recollect asking for more. Candy or sweets as we called them were rationed. Our allotment was 5 small sweets a week. Ice cream was virtually non- existent and certainly did not exist at school. We had to wait until we got home and even then it was scarce. Our biggest benefactors later were the American army and their generous nature. They handed out a lot of candy to the kids during the war. We received a parcel once a month from mother. This was a big event, normally the nuns would keep whatever candy we were sent and dole it out over a period of time. Except that one time I got to open the parcel by myself and kept all the candy without the nun’s knowing about it. I could not believe my good fortune and to be sure that the nun’s did not find it I ate the whole lot in one gorgeous binge. That was the good news, the bad, was I threw up six times during the night and Sister Philomena kept me in bed the next day completely puzzled at what was wrong with me. I never told her the reason. When you are a child you tend to just accept things, since you have really no reference point to evaluate them from a broader perspective. Only in later years are you able to do so. So this aspect I am going to relate of the convent’s policy has always bothered me. While we were boarders, we were not called by our Christian names, not even by our surnames, but by numbers. Each boy was given a number and that was how he was referred to. My number was 2 and my brother’s number was 39 and at meal times we sat in numerical order, we were not allowed to speak during meals. The boy I sat next to for six years was # 1 his name was Tony Pomeroy; for some reason, I cannot seem to remember, who was the boy who sat to my right #3. I think his Christian name was Raymond. Since all our clothes had to have our identification sewn into them, I once In the latter part of 1940 and early 1941 the air raids started. I was not in one of the bigger dormitories but in a smaller room at the top of the convent adjacent to the chapel. This room housed up to five beds and a curtained off bed for one of the nuns, Sister Philomena. We went to bed at 8:00PM and every night I heard the sisters singing the evening vespers. Regularly on the dot of 10:00PM the air raid sirens would go. Sister Philomena would get us up and we would walk down the stairs to the ground floor main hall and sit along the wall on the tiled floor, until the all clear usually about two hours and then troop back upstairs to bed. We still got up the next day at the same time. One night we had a particularly bad raid. Though Bridport it self was not a industrial target, what often happened was that the British night fighters would attack the German Heinkels and Junkers 88 bombers and they would turn to flee across the channel, releasing their bombs indiscriminately across the countryside. They killed a few cows that way, also a few people. The siren had gone off and Sister Philomena took everyone down stairs as usual, except for one person, me! I was partially deaf in one ear and I always slept on my good ear so I would not hear anything. That was not a good thing to do that particular night. Anyway I woke up because there was a lot of noise. The anti aircraft guns, they were called ack ack guns, which were located on the hill opposite the school were blasting up at the bombers, the searchlights were lighting up the area and I looked around at the beds and found them all empty. I remember getting up and walking down three flights of stairs lit up by the searchlights. The look on Sister Magdalene’s face when she saw me coming down the stairs was a study, when she realized I had been left up there. Kids have a penchant for getting into mischief no matter what. We were so closely monitored 24 hours a day, you would think that it would be impossible to get into real mischief. Well one kid did and paid a heavy price for it. We went for a walk one Saturday to Bothenhampton Downs. When we got there, we were allowed to roam about and play for an hour or two. There was an army dump adjacent to where we were playing. One of the boys named Victor Travers climbed over the fence and apparently picked something up and brought it back to school. The next day it had been raining and we were playing inside. The rain stopped and the nuns shooed us outside. I was the last one to leave and was standing just outside the door leading to the playground. As I stood there holding a pack of cards in my hand, I noticed a group of boys huddled together at the top of the playground. Suddenly there was a loud crack and for a moment I thought it was one of the farmers shooting rabbits on the hill opposite. One of the little boys detached himself from the group and ran towards me, from a distance I thought he was laughing, when he got closer I saw that he had no hand, he had blown it off with the detonator he had found in the army dump. One of the sisters with great presence of mind grabbed him and put his arm in a tourniquet, it probably saved him from bleeding to death. Later one of the nuns went around the playground picking up pieces of finger bones and flesh. Victor Travers for that is who it was later came back to school with a metal hand. Posted: 09/01/2009 03:13 by Howard Johnson |
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Year: 1940s
Convent Of The Visitation - Bridport - Dorset New Added yesterday
CHAPTER TWO School Years - Convent of the Visitation 1939-1945 One’s school years leave an indelible impression on one for good or bad. My views over these years in this regard, have modified considerably. The older you get, the more you tend to look at your youth with rose tinted glasses. So in relating to my school years I am trying to put myself back in that time and place. My mother took me down by train from Newbury on the GWR (Great Western Railway). It was the age of coal-fired trains with carriages that had separate compartments, sometimes connected by a corridor and sometimes no corridor. In the latter case, you were stuck in the compartment with no access to a toilet. We traveled down to the West Country to the town of Maiden Newton where we had to change to a smaller connecting train to Bridport. The date was September 3rd 1939 the day that England declared war on Germany. World War II had started. By the time we arrived, it was dark. We had to catch a bus to the seaside village of West Bay about three miles outside Bridport, where we were going to spend the night at the Bridport Arms Hotel. I remember sitting in the bus with the locals with all the lights turned off, as England was now in a full blackout mode. Everybody had to put up blackout screens on their windows to avoid any light showing at night to help the enemy bombers. Air-raid wardens were posted in every district to look out for people not complying and issuing fines. Everybody also had to carry a gasmask whenever they went out. The gasmask was contained in a cardboard box suspended by a cord, which you hung over your shoulder. We were also given a small package which included two pieces of cotton wool for your ears and a piece of rubber to put in your mouth to protect your teeth against bomb blast. Thinking back on it now, it sounds hilarious. If you were going to be that close to a bomb going off, you had a lot more things to worry about, than putting bits of cotton wool in your ears, what you would really be concerned about is whether you would have any ears to put them in. What it really demonstrated was to show the governments desperation in attempting to protect the population, after ignoring for years the arms buildup by Adolf Hitler. West Bay is a tiny fishing community with an artificial harbour entered between twin piers extending out into the sea. A river exited into this little harbour. The coast consisted of steep undulating sandstone cliffs, which came down to sea level for approximately half a mile before rising steeply again. It was in this narrow depression that nestled the coastal town of West Bay. West Bay was part of a larger bay on the coast called Lyme Bay, after the coastal town of Lyme Regis. A significant point of issue, since Lyme Bay was one of the main projected invasion points, if Germany had invaded England, though we knew they would not have succeeded! My school would have been only three miles inland of one of the invasion fronts. Newtown was a lot safer place, than where I was sent to school. Years later I did have unworthy thoughts about the degree that my parents wanted to get rid of us. The next day we spent in the town of Bridport and then in the evening mother took me to the Convent. The convent was a big three-storey brick building with a red tiled roof set in a large suburban site. On one side was a large asphalt playground surrounded by vertical spiked steel bars fencing off the play area from the kitchen gardens. A row of toilets and a covered shed were at one end and on one side was the indoor playroom. This was a large high ceilinged room with a polished concrete floor and a large coke fed steel stove at one end of the room. This was the sole heating element for that space. There were fixed benches running down one side of the room. That was it. No toys, books or anything else to occupy and inspire or entertain the young mind during break time. In the playground, all that was provided were some wood parallel bars at various heights to play on. This was my recreation space for six years. The other end of the convent, were the daygirls classes and above that the chapel. In between were the dormitories and classrooms and the nuns quarters on the second floor. The Convent grew its own food and provided its own milk with its small herd of cows. They did there own laundry, boiling the linen in large open coppers. There was an open field past the kitchen garden, which was used for cricket in summer and soccer in winter. All the floors were polished wood and the lighting in the classrooms at night were by gaslight. The nuns had to stand on the desks to light each gas fixture. The average day consisted of rising at 6;30AM, morning mass at 7:00AM to 8:00AM, breakfast at 8:00AM to 8:30AM. Break time to 9:00AM, and classes from 9:00AM to 11:00AM.We had a fifteen-minute break and then classes to noon. Lunch noon to 12:30PM, break to 1:00PM and classes from 1:00PM to 2:30PM, fifteen-minute break and classes to 4:00PM. Break to Teatime at 5:00PM to 5:30PM and then a break to 6:00PM. A Benediction service was held from 6;00PM to 6:30PM and then prep in the classroom to 7:30PM. Break until 8:00PM and bedtime at 8:00PM . This was my routine nine months of the year from the age of 5 years until I was 11. The weekends were only slightly better. On Saturday, we had classes in the morning and a long walk in the afternoon, crocodile fashion for up to six miles; again mass in the morning and benediction in the evening. Sunday we got a break, early morning mass was only half an hour instead of an hour, but that was made up for by a two hour high mass at lunchtime at the local church. All these services were conducted in Latin. Sunday afternoon consisted of playing in the playground until teatime. It was the most boring four hours with nothing to play with except what ever you could dream up in your imagination and of course benediction in the evening and I was not even catholic. I spent a large part of my childhood on my knees, listening to a service in a language I did not understand and all it did was to drive me away from any type of organized religion. Wednesday afternoons we got to play soccer or cricket, which to me was the best part of the week. This then was to be my life, when my mother took me up to the big nail studded door and pulled on the chain. The bell I could hear tolling down the corridor and later footsteps coming closer and closer to answer the doorbell. The door opened and a nun in a full black habit opened the door and invited us in. This person I came to know as Sister Agnes. Mother left shortly after and I was on my own. Well not quite on my own since my brother had arrived a little earlier. I was taken up to the dormitory and put in a cot. The other boys had not come to bed yet as it was still early evening. My brother stayed with me for a while and told me a bedtime story; it was a modified tale of Jack in the Beanstalk. Thus at the age of 4 years 11 months and 20 days, the day after WWII began that I started my school years in earnest. The classes were divided into three by age grouping. Sister Anne took the youngest boys, Sister Edith took the next age group and Sister Magdalene took the oldest boys. We used to call her Maggie behind her back. Maggie on reflection was a striking looking nun, highly intelligent and with a kind but no nonsense attitude. She was like most of the other nuns Belgian. I should make clear that the sisters were not unkind or tyrannical in fact quite the opposite. They were very strict both on themselves and their charges. It was these three nuns who we had to deal with. Sister Anne was a red haired Irish nun who had a disposition, which matched her hair. She came to the convent in 1926 as a young woman and stayed there until she died at the age of 85. Sister Edith was a more grandmotherly type, but whatever their disposition, they all wielded a sharp hand with the cane on unlucky miscreants. When we were punished, we had to hold out our hand and received six of the best. There was a rumor that if you put horsehair on your hand it would absorb the pain. I tried it and it did not work. The convent was called the Convent of the Visitation and as I mentioned, they were a Belgian Order. They spoke French among themselves and sometimes to us. I believe some of the nuns had escaped from Nazi occupied Belgian and brought with them a little boy called Eric Bart. He slept separately from the other boys. The convent was situated on the edge of the town of Bridport and was surrounded on three sides by fields adjacent to an old Mill. Bridport itself is in the County of Dorset a most beautiful part of the West Country of England with rolling pastoral hills and copses. Unfortunately the beauty was largely unappreciated at the time. After all I do not think the prisoners on Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay really appreciated the beauty of their surroundings either. My earliest days in school were a kaleidoscope of memories. The nuns had boarded up the windows of the playroom to keep light from escaping at night. It was approaching winter and unless it was raining we had to play outside. The mornings were very cold and often with frost. That was good and bad. The good was we made ice slides on the asphalt and wore our shoes out in the process and the bad, was a lot of children developed chilblains a nasty form of swelling of the fingers due to the cold. The consequence was that when you went into classes you tried to warm your hands by the stove so you could hold a pencil. In the summer the heat caused the asphalt to get soft and break out in little heat bubbles, not good for your clothes. We went on these long walks every Saturday either to West Bay about six miles there and back or to Bothenhampton Downs a little closer with a view of the sea from the hill. In the summer of 1940 during the Battle of Britain we went for a walk to West Bay. An invasion by Germany was expected any day. The army had dug trenches behind the esplanade along the sea front. (No joke we were really on the front lines) We were all playing on the beach under the supervision of the nuns. When the nuns were not looking, three of us climbed back up the esplanade and got into the trenches with the soldiers. They were making tea, so they offered us some from the metal pans that they drank out of. So for a while it was quite exciting imagining us battling the Germans as they came ashore. Reality soon crept back and we sneaked back to the beach. It was in 1940 with the imminent threat of a Nazi invasion that in mid- term the nuns told my brother and I that we were being sent home, as we were going to be sent to Canada with a friend of the family, who was taking some other children as well. When we got home mother had all our bags packed. We were going on the last civilian ocean liner to leave for Canada. At the last moment mother could not let us go and cancelled the trip. That ship was torpedoed mid Atlantic and 71 children died as a result. The anti climax was we were sent back to school, I suppose you could say we were lucky to be able to do that. But such was the paranoia of invasion, that mother many years later said that if the Germans had invaded she would have poisoned us. Whether she would have done so however is open to conjecture. Personally, I do not think she would have. It is impossible to convey to people in this day and age the feelings of people at that time. It was frightening for adults, for the children it was just exciting and perhaps a little bit apprehensive during an air raid. Posted: 08/01/2009 17:44 by Howard Johnson |
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Year: 1951
Visitation Convent, Bridport
I was saddened to read the blogs of boys that had such an unhappy experience of days as a boarder. I was there from 1951 until 1957 and whilst I also remember the less than idyllic food and discipline, I tend to believe that was a reflection of the societal norms of the immediate post-war period. Are we in danger of making judgements based on our expectations of 50 years on? My 'mentor'was Sister Anne who, like other bloggers, I revisited in the late 1980s on the way back from a holiday in France when the place was an old people's home (I probably should call it a Mature Citizens Haven to match the political correctness of these days). My recollection was that she was kind to me yet kept me on the 'straight and narrow' which I believe shaped my whole subsequent life in making me confident and self reliant. This doesn't seem to be too bad a value system to have instilled in us. Some of you from those early 1950s may remember that my dad made a slide for the school which, in addition to bringing a little happiness to other boarders, may, with the benefit of hindsight, have earned me a few Brownie points with the nuns - something few of us are blessed with at the age of six or seven. Life is in reality a series of perceptions rather than absolutes and certainly my overall recollection was that, given we were all sent from our home by our parents and not the nuns, the experience was fitting to the circumstances we lived in at the time. I was expelled from the Convent a term before I was due to leave anyway because I went on a night-time adventure of absconding from the school with two other boys - anyone remember who? - which the nuns obviously considered was a slight on them. I then went on to another boarding school at Reading until I left school. May I wish you all a content future and hope those of you that were obviously so unhappy did not find your subsequent life was too blighted and that you found love and affection elsewhere. Frank (Frankie) Sharp, Number 55 Last edited: 22/12/2008 16:14 by Frank Sharp |
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 Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1948
The Visitation Convent Bridport Dorset.
For unruly behaviour, I was delivered to boarding school at the age of 4, after enjoying wonderful times on a Devon farm. I was taken to the Convent by my parents in an Austin 7. I remember crying and staring at the red and yellow floor tiles while Mother Superior Sister Agnes Francis and my future form mistress, Sister Anne, promised punishment if I didn't stop. For high spirits, this turned out to be a long punishment, lasting until 1953. The nuns ruled the boys with discipline that today would result in prosecution and school closure. After Mass, breakfast in winter was a sordid affair starting with a tablespoonful of Cod Liver Oil. If it made you vomit, you were very lucky if you didn't receive a thrashing with the cane. The taste was taken away with a bowl of lumpy porridge. Talking was strictly forbidden and disproportionate punishment did the trick. Time was allocated after breakfast for use of an outside row of toilet cubicles, which had to be used even in freezing conditions, before lessons. Considering food was still on ration, they did their best with delights like black sausage, butter beans or swede with mash potato. Fish was guaranteed on Fridays. Regular desserts were lumpy Rice Pudding or Semolina. Education was by intimidation. If you were slow on the uptake, it was assumed a hit round the ear or a sharp ruler over the knuckles would lead to understanding. When I reached the age of 7, Sister Mary Edith took over my education in Religious Knowledge, Arithmetic, English Language, French, History, Geography, Nature Study and spelling. There were fortnightly reports on conduct, politeness, application, discipline and order. In spite of the harsh discipline, we did get the occasional treat. The weekly walks to West Bay taught me to hate wet weather. I enjoyed outings such as to USS Missouri off Portland Bill, Gundry's rope factory, Glastonbury and the Bridport Royal Charter Pageant. Even got to cheer the Princess Elizabeth and Margaret on their vist to Bridport. Rin Tin Tin and Micky Mouse were treats with rare film shows shown with a religious film. Coronation Day turned life upside down. There were no lessons and a TV was hired for the day. The pupils' and nuns' eyes were glued on a small screen with little contrast, but enjoyed a shared national event. The Coronation was seen in colour at the Bridport Cinema at a later date. There were two dorms for above or below 7 year olds. In hindsight bath night once a week was a rum do with the nuns bathing you in nice hot water, not allowing the cast of an eye to others being bathed. The dorms always seemed warm and the beds always had clean sheets. In 1994 I took an American writer friend to see where I had been made a social inadequate. To our surprise, there was an old people's care home. In 2008 I took my mother, and was shocked to find it no longer there. New houses were where I remembered the Convent to be. Not even a plaque to commemorate the devotion of all those nuns. It seems the place has no history and no pupils who became famous, other than the writer Douglas Duff. Last edited: 15/10/2008 17:02 by Rex Duffy |
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Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1958
Boarding At The Visitation Convent
My brother and I attended the Convent as boarders from 1958 to 1961 after the death of our mother. We were pretty traumatised on our first day there but were gently looked after by the wonderful Sister Edith. I later remember serving at her funeral. The discipline could be quite harsh at times and I do recall the infants being forced to eat there own vomit at breakfast. Not being allowed to go to the loo when you needed to, especially at night, is a lasting memory.The education was very good and I did well there, having joined with English as my second language. I do remember the room with the strange creatures in jars, it was where we would go for our haircuts. My brother and I enjoyed playing football and represented the school in local competitions. Our home games were played on the field opposite. We went on to win a cup competition against a local school, who were the strong favourites. My brother Steve was the goalkeeper and team captain. We got our pictures in the local paper and played the match at the Bridport FC ground. Mr. Greening, our coach, was so pleased he took the whole team out one afternoon to watch Bridport FC play and introduced us to the players. It was the first football competition the school had won. I remember the long walks to West Bay and elsewhere come rain or shine and sunny summer afternoons on the beach under the cliffs. There were many pupils attending the Convent whose parents were serving in the forces overseas and they would go away for the holidays to exotic places like India, Africa and Asia, locations I could only dream about then. I have fond memories of the school, but we were always glad to get away at the end of term and be back in London. Posted: 08/08/2008 00:45 by Emeric Molnar |
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Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1920s
Visitation Convent
I was a boarder at the convent, with my older brother , from September 1927 until Decomber 1929. Contrary to the report given by Alan Noon, (not of my generation) the nuns treated us well and, with reflection over the years, with understanding and kindness. Some names of nuns _Sisters Agnes, Edith and Gertrude. Reverend Mother was a kindly person - not that we had much to with her directly - my abiding memory of her is that she had a mole on her face. Walks, long for children of our age, were a great feature - Bothenhampton Downs , West Bay, Eype and other names which I cannot remember now. We also bought sweets ('gob stoppers,' sticks of liquorice etc) in town on our walks. We also played cricket ! I won 2 prizes, books, which I treasure to this day Food - I don't remember much about except that on St Cecilia's day (Nov 22nd) those learning music got a little extra . I remember in one of the waiting rooms, perhaps while waiting for our lesson, there was a glass cabinet in whcih there was an ostrich egg and a stuffed baby crocodile (or alligator) A special treat one year, for all, was a showing of the silent film of "Macbeth" The projectpor was set up in the recreation hall with a protective cage around it I can still see, in memory, the scene where Lady M declaims "Is this a dagger I see before me..." Perhaps not entirely suitable for 6 to 10 yeaar old's. Heating in the recreation hall was effected by a large "Tortoise" stove. One year we put on a "play" called I think, the Toy Drum Major" and even now I can remember the words nd music I have no memory of major discomfort - I believe we were aequately fed and were warm at night. A curious feature of bath days was that as little boys we were required to wear bathing trunks ! What I suffered from most was home sickeness At holday time , for those boys living in London and going home by train, a nun would accompany us to Maiden Newton station and see us on to the London express. What joy it was to find my mother waiting for us on the arrival platform at Paddington. Posted: 26/01/2008 22:16 by First Name Last Name |
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Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1947
The Convent
My father died the year after I was born and his employer Burton's, provided for myself and my three brothers to attend private schools, which is how I came from London to the Convent at the age of 4. I followed my brother Colin who had been boarded there for a number of years. Even today I still have nightmares about the place and the horrible way the nuns treated the children. We were required to remain in our seats even if we needed to go to the toilet. Subsequently many kids soiled themselves or urinated where they sat and were brutally punnished for doing so. At bedtime the nuns checked underwear to look for mistakes that might have been otherwise overlooked. In my 3 years of residence I remember slaps across the head and face; rulers across my knuckles; and yes, I remember the cow on the railings who groaned in pain, his eyes wide open as he waited for death to come to him. I remember arrogant priest visitors we had to serve with cakes and cookies we were not allowed to have; I remember polishing those endless wooden floors and long refectory tables;I remember the black pudding full of grizzle and weak pea soup we were required to eat; and the interminable silence we were so scared to break. I remember the cold, dark latrines on the right side of the photo and the spiders. I also remember occasional joy with the arrival of a letter from Mum or a parcel from home wrapped in brown paper with string and red sealing wax. In 1960 I went back to take a look and found the Convent had been converted to a home for the aged and thought how absolutely tragic that these evil nuns could catch the innocents at both ends of life to make it into a living Hell. Someone wrote that the Convent was demolished in 2000. Too little, too late. This should have been done while the nuns were still in it back at the turn of the century, to give kids like me memories of their early school years they would never dread recalling. Posted: 13/01/2008 20:05 by Alan Noon |
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Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1940s
Visitation Convent Boarding School, Bridport
During the 1940s, I lived in Weymouth, but from May 1942, when I was 5, until July 1947, I was a boarder at the school. I was happy there, and still remember the names of my teachers - Sister Anne, Sister Edith and Sister Magdalene, and also the names of many of the other nuns there then. We had a walk every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon. We walked in twos - with one nun leading the column and another bringing up the rear. Sometimes we just went to West Bay, at other times we would go to Loders (which seemed very far) or Allington, Symondsbury Copse or Eype. Meals were taken in silence(well, maybe not always total silence). We had to attend Mass every morning at 7.45 and before breakfast. On Tuesday and Saturday evenings we attended Benediction. I was an altar server and choirboy. On VE Day 1945 Union Jacks and Belgian flags were hanging from the top windows of the convent and we had a game of cricket in our convent field opposite. We had spiked iron railings around our playground and one morning in 1947, I happened to look out of one of the top windows of the convent building (before it was time to get up) and saw what seemed to be a grey shape draped over these railings. A cow or bull had tried to jump them and killed itself in the attempt. Sadly, the school closed down about 1970, and the whole convent building was demolished in 2000. I last visited Bridport in 1994, so I haven't seen the houses which took its place. Last edited: 12/06/2007 14:56 by James Mcguinness |
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Bridport, the Convent 1903 (ref: 50486) |
Year: 1958
Convent Of The Visitation
I was born in 1950 and attended the convent as a boarder, leaving in 1958. I travelled by train with my mother from New Street station Birmingham to Paddington station London where the convent nuns met up with us and the other schoolchildren for the journey to Bridport station. We used to have long country walks during the summer and I can remember going to a place covered in long fern vegetation in which we played. The regime at the convent was very strict and the education standard extremely high. French and Latin were taught well before the 11 plus age. I still have a couple of the bills for my upkeep that were sent to my mother. I also have a couple of photo's of myself taken during my time at the Convent. One of them shows my class mates and I in the classroom being taught by Sister Edith I believe. Our clothes had our name and number attached, mine were Cash's name tapes with the number 4. I still have my teddy bear with my name and number attached to his ear! I returned to see the convent in 1982 during a holiday in the area and met Sister Anne. Her first words on seeing me again after many years were 'good god its Alan Yardley'!! I have been told that the convent has since been demolished and houses built on the site. I have mixed feelings concerning my time at the Convent. Whilst the standard of education was extremely high, I personally experienced treatment that these days could be considered little short of abuse. I suffered nervous problems for many years after leaving the Convent and memories of being caned and forced to eat my own vomit are still with me 50 years later. I can confirm Alan Noon's recollections of not being allowed to go to the toilet. I remember standing in front of a stone sink in an unlit ground floor room washing my underwear with a large bar of soap whilst a nun stood behind me telling me how wicked I was for having soiled myself. I have every respect for some of the nuns who taught me, the young novices were especially kind, some of the older nuns however were little short of sadistic bullies. How brave they must have felt subjecting little children to such abuse. Last edited: 20/04/2008 22:11 by Alan Yardley |
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 Bridport, from Allington Hill 1897 (ref: 40068) |
In Memory Of F.a. Brake, Born 1895
This is where we played as kids - all eight of us! Our grandad was born in one of the houses on the bottom left-hand side. He lived there all his life and my father plus my eldest brother, sister and my nephew was born in the same house. Five generations lived there for over 100 years. It was sold out of the family in 2002. My grandparent and parents where also married in the St Swithins Church. A lot has changed sadly, a lot more houses built. Last edited: 16/01/2007 20:27 by Amanda Brake |
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