End of year dance

At the end of every school year, there was the customary end of the year dance for all those girls completing their schooling.  This was a time when the school leavers could really go to town with beautiful, expensive party dresses.  Coming from a family where money was exceedingly tight at the best of times, this was especially thrilling for my big sister.  My one aunt who was a fashion pundit, directed my mother and sister to all the right shops, where magical creations hanging behind drawn curtains were trotted out one at a time for close inspection.  After much deliberation, a beautiful, delicate pink, chiffon dress with yards and yards of flouncing skirt was eventually decided upon.  After all, this was my parent's first daughter to reach the end stage of her schooling.  Satin shoes, a pale pink see-through stole, and a necklace and handbag borrowed from my aunt completed the ensemble.

The long anticipated evening arrived, when the beautifully dressed school leavers were allowed to parade through the children's quadrangle over-shadowed by it's central palm tree.  This too was a time when for once, all the boarders were allowed to hang out of the upstairs windows, exclaiming with many Ooh's and Ahh's and gazing with great admiration at all the finery on display.  This was a true fairy-tale scene.

The only unusual part of this pageant was the fact that partnering them to the dance, were their fathers!  So there were these beautifully dressed girls with coiffured hair accompanied by portly, graying, balding men.

All the mothers were obliged to sit around the edges of the hall, while their husbands twirled and waltzed their daughters off their feet.  My father said everything was going well until someone decided to play the Flight of the Bumble Bee!  Sweating profusely and breathing heavily, he finally collapsed into a chair.  Meanwhile, my mother was having her own embarrassed little dance around the hall with one of the nuns, not quite knowing who was leading whom.  Johann Strauss was in great demand that evening.

In my mind's eye,  I can still see the photograph of all the girls with great big smiles and twinkling eyes, their stiff petticoats straining to be released from the confines of the chairs.

As far as I can remember, that was the last time such an event took place at the convent.  By the time it came for my middle sister's end of year dance, the scene had completely changed with not a single father in sight.  The whole event now consisted of an afternoon tea, with lots of cream cakes from downtown Anglo Swiss bakery, a talk by the Mother Superior and a presentation of metal crucifixes.  Perhaps there had been a revolt by the girls against their dads!  Who knows!  All I know is that that was the end of a particular era.