[Acrylic-bob]

I recall that at the age of 6 we were instructed, at school (St. Oswalds, Willows Lane),on the rituals and dogma associated with making our first confession. So every day for what seemed like an eternity we were made to turn our chair round and kneel on them and chant the Confession Formula;"Bless me Father for I have sinned" etc etc. There is a lot to be said for learning things by rote.

Then one unforgettable day our teacher, Miss McGinn, (Who I believe had red hair and freckles.) decided that she would treat us to an explanation of the evils of sin and the consequent necessity of confession. Remember, we were 6-7 years old at the time. She said that every time we committed a sin it was as though we had placed Jesus on the cross again and that his wounds would open up and bleed. This revelation was delivered with such macabre relish that it silenced the lot of us, the ones that weren't in tears that is. There was a good deal more of this in the days and weeks leading up to the event itself, but thankfully my brain appears to have blocked most of it out.

I am sure that a psychologist would have had a field day with Miss McGinn. I am also sure that it is a wonder that we turned out to be reasonably sane individuals. Or maybe I am overreacting here?