Leweston Manor - 1958-1963

A long time ago, when I was quite new, I went to school and lived at Leweston Manor, a convent in the North Dorset rolling countryside. I wasn't an ardent scholar, let's face it, and the smell of the chemistry lab determined that I would never excel in the sciences. I have recently been reminded that I would often feign collapse at the beginning of any class in the chemistry lab to get out of the class! My fervent interests lay in reading about the Elizabethan Voyages, Shakespeare's plays and sonnets, art, and needlework. I enjoyed Ancient History, Algebra, Geometry and Latin. My piano lessons were a delight. Mrs. Likeman was a true saint! On those days when she just knew that I hadn't adequately practiced my scales and arpeggios, she'd whisk me off to her cottage and we'd make toffee, or draw pictures of her rose-covered cottage in Long Burton! When I first went to Leweston we slept in a dormitory of about 12. Mother Margaret Mary's cubicle was in the corner of the room, and it was always a great mystery to us what it must be like behind the locked door. Anne Fuller decided it for us, and threw my teddybear over the high cubicle wall! I had to retrieve old Ted, so with the aid of many helping hands I managed to 'hup!' my way up and over. Unfortunately, for the crucifix, which was lying just so on her pillow, when I jumped down onto her bed, it went flying, and landed in more than a few pieces on the floor! I gathered up old Ted and threw him back over the wall, then gathered up the scattered cross, and poor Jesus, Who had fallen off, and replaced them lovingly and carefully on Mother's bed. Then clambering up onto the bedstead, and taking one last look into this immaculate, private world of a young nun, I 'Western rolled' it out of there! I was an instant heroine! The bar had been set, and from that day on, if there was a dare to be given, it always fell in my lap! One of the more pleasant challenges was to sneak into the huge walled fruit garden and pick large amounts of redcurrants for the huddled masses on the other side of the wrought iron gate...it wasn't locked, simply 'out of bounds'. Hmm, in reflection: was I, indeed, the heroine they made me to be, or actually, their slave?!! No matter...when I think back on Leweston Days, there are only smiles in my soul!