Being a boarder also meant a rigorous religious upbringing. Morning prayers, 6.15 am Mass, Rosary, prayers before and after meals, night prayers, and during Lent who prayed most, We. Then there was being an Altar Boy, but all prayers to be learnt were in Latin. Somehow I managed and frequently assisted in mass from as early as 5.30 in the Priest’s Chapel, St Peter’s Church, and in the girls convent opposite our school.
I assisted Fr Soler, Fr Casale among others. Since Fr Soler was quite deaf we had to answer the Latin prayers loud enough else he would turn around and glare. Whereas Fr Casale was quite blind and would hold the big Gospel book near his nose; I liked him, he was a great Geologist and would reward us well for any unusual stone we brought back from picnics. But one day it was bound to happen. All because our skirts were just too large for us. So I would roll the skirt at the waist to make it shorter.
Now on this day during mass, I carried the Gospel and had to go down a couple of steps, genuflect and climb up and place it on the other side of the Altar. But you guessed it, my skirt began to unfurl at the waist and got into the tip of my shoe. I flew with the Gospel down the steps flat on my face. You can imagine the rest.