We just had a lovely day out at Scarborough. I had a bag of chips on the sea front – covering it well, shielding it from the seagulls as the sun was setting. It was the second best bag of chips I’ve ever had. At boarding school just up the coast in Whitby we were taught by nuns. They didn’t allow tv, radio, record players and it was very strict. Saturday morning lessons were taught in latin. They spent a lot of time in Chapel and attended the last service of the day called Complan at 9 pm and went to bed. They weren’t allowed to talk until Matins the following morning at 5 am. Day to day life was suddenly thrown into chaos by the arrival of a new nun. She told us she had fallen in love with Peter O’Toole but it hadn’t worked out so she had become a nun. At 10.30 one night she crept into the dormitory and whispered did anyone want to go for a midnight walk. There were 27 beds in total on each side of this long room with a window between each metal bed. The mattresses were of horsehair and had to be rolled up and turned every Saturday morning. After an hour in bed they had sunk into a snug sausage shape which you curled up in. About half of us leapt out of bed and threw on some clothes and the other half lay terrified in case they got caught (goody goodies). We tiptoed out down the long corridors past the sleeping nuns’ quarters carrying our shoes and out into the night. We walked about 6 miles into Whitby and just caught the last chippie before it closed. We each contributed the odd penny here and there until we came up with the 16 p needed. I think we managed about 2 chips each but they were the best chips we ever had. Sister Val insisted we sit right in the middle of the main road to Whitby to eat them as well.