The Magdalene Laundries

Yesterday's Guardian included a short letter in response to recent news items regarding Catholic priests and abuse of children in their care. The correspondent made the point that nuns at her school were equally culpable but that no-one would believe her. I too went to convent schools. The first two schools I went to were run by nuns from an order based in Manchester, but founded in France. They were worldly wise enough to provide a good education at school and teacher training levels. One elderly nun did have the habit of throwing her scissors across the room to make a point ( too many puns), and once threw my needlework out of the window and into the River Irwell, but we knew she was passionate about her subject and I forgave her. My parents then went to live and work in SE Asia and my sisters and I were sent to convent boarding school, in the next town to where I live now. I never imagined I could live so close to the scene of my teenage misery. This school was rooted in 1950s Ireland, even though this was the late 60s.It was academically challenged - my mother still regrets the fact that none of us became doctors, ignoring the fact that the school didn't offer science A levels - we no longer have the heart to remind her. The nuns generally had a cruel and sadistic approach to dealing with hormonal teenaged homesick girls, trying to find their way in the early days of women's lib and the swinging sixties. Personal hygiene and laundry and communication with friends and family were all areas of power and discipline for them. Baths and hair washing was restricted ( and this was enforced), letters were intercepted though we found ways of sneaking them out with the help of the day girls. Tampax and drying underwear were confiscated ( honestly!)
I was 13 when I went and left when I was 17. My best friend had been at the junior part of the school - ironically now a residential care home. There the nuns used an iron bar across the legs as a punishment, and put naughty children to sleep in a room they believed was haunted. Whether they ever really did this is debatable, but the fact that it was used a threat for the pupils says it all. No internet, no mobile phones, censored Sunday letters - it took 2 weeks for letters to reach my parents and the last thing they wanted to hear was how desperately unhappy we were. And this was a supposedly priviledged education.
The song 'The Magdalene Laundries' describes a particular type of convent life that I feel has a lot in common with my experiences.
Ironically I now find myself leading a secular but nun-like life- with duties and responsibilities for others, working for a charity, spiritually seeking, trying to lead a 'right' life, toying with the idea of living within a community in the next ten years as work and family responsibilities change.No love life since the terrible betrayals of two years ago.
A representative of the Catholic church was on the radio this morning commenting on the furore over the emails a junior civil servant at the Foreign Office had written about the Pope's forthcoming visit. Jokes abound about nuns and convent schoolgirls too - humour can dissipate horror! He made the point that it is part of the Catholic culture to forgive and move on. And no wonder.......