Unbelievable! It's been twenty years. Over 7000 days!
It's been just over 7300 days since I left secondary school - that humid, mouldy, arthritis haven in Mdina - also known as the good old days at St. Dorothy's Convent.
I have to say that except for the ever-increasing grinding of my joints, and the aching muscles that throb for days after every jog, I do not feel any different to how I did back then. I might have dropped that rigid uniform, grew a few inches taller (and wider), but on the whole, not much else has changed, at least not the important stuff.
To start with my best friend is still the same as from back then. Marylynn and I attended the same school, and we made sure to pull the right strings to be in the same classroom. We were also neighbours, and to top it all off we also share the same surname. To this day, we just love letting people believe that we're sisters... because in many ways we are.
But that's not all.
Another clear mark of my Dorothean days is that I love the sight of nuns. Despite their antics, their somewhat silly discipline, and that their private quarters reek of minestra, I still love the sight of a nun. In fact I almost felt betrayed when they allowed them to make do without the veil.
Marylynn and I went on to be the bridesmaids of our physics teacher. Ms. Darmanin had taught us for three years, and being the pests that we could be at the time, we became good friends with her and her fiancé. Because she was our teacher, the wedding felt surreal. My memory of the event is kind of fading, because for a reason that only a physics teacher understands, the wedding photos were never developed.
Whoever attended St. Dorothy's School in Mdina, knows what I mean when I say, that we ex-students don't walk through those tiny streets like everyone else does. To us, every street means so much more. You see, we know every nook and cranny of the place, we know where every little street and alley leads to, we know which doorbells to ring and run, and which not to dare get close to, we know which paths are haunted, and were the nice ghosts live, we know the pregnant windows with the best views, and the best spots for secret conversations. Most importantly we know how to hold our own against the ghastly wintery wind that traps the cathedral square threatening to pull it off the earth.
To this day, no matter how cold and chilly it gets up there, I still get a warm fuzzy feeling from walking around the bastions, and in and out of Mdina's alleyways.
And now, here we are, twenty years on, and next Friday 10th September, I shall be attending The St. Dorothy's Grand Reunion. I have to admit that since the other Bezzina, also known as my partner in crime, is going to be away from the island and will not be able to attend, I was more than half tempted to give this one a miss. But I won't. At thirty-four, I think that I will find a way to attend this one on my own and will then diligently report back to base.
Ex-students of all ages are invited to the new school in Zebbug, for a night of trotting, (and later undoubtedly galloping) down the Dorothean memory lane. Check out the Facebook page (St Dorothy's Convent Grand Reunion) for more details.