ABSTRACT
I found myself in a car the other day with a new acquaintance who, like me, served time in a French convent school some 40 years ago. This happy and rare coincidence always provides a great opportunity for reminiscent whooping and giggling about Reverende Mère, white gloves, dictée, learning Fables de la Fontaine by heart, and doing danse eurythmique in white tunics.
