Respect all, fear nun - part six
By Diana the Valkyrie
The menace from Europe


I was called in to the mother house, to the office of the Mother
Superior.  "Good news," she said, and I winced, because that usually
means bad news with a sugar coating.

Apparently, we'd agreed to a nun-swap. That means that we sent
one of our nuns to another convent, and they sent one of theirs to
us. The idea is to promote love and friendship. In practice, each
convent tries to foist their worst nun on the other convent. Nuns
are human too, you know, even if we are mounted on castors and
glide rather than walk.

"And you're getting the exchange nun," she said, in a tone of voice
that expected me to be pleased. I gave an ambiguous grunt, "Um."
"You're always saying that you need another pair of hands at the
orphanage, that three nuns isn't enough for 24 kids. So now you've
got your wish. "Be careful what you wish for," I thought.

I was expecting some pious middle-aged biddy who would be shocked
at the casual way we behaved, and who would be totally unable to
pray and pump iron as we did, six times per day. And I told Nora
and Mandy to go easy on her - at least she'd be able to help with
the kids. And maybe even the dogs.

That wasn't what I got.

"Hello, I'm Hilde Schmidt." She arrived at the orphanage, accompanied
by our mother superior, who I guessed had come along to make sure
that we gave her a good welcome.

I looked up. She was dressed in a long habit, coif and wimple
neatly in place, and she wasn't an old biddy at all, she was quite
nice-looking. I could see a wisp of blonde hair that had escaped
the coif. Her habit was fine black cotton (our were cheap and
hard-wearing linen) and her white wimple looked like it was made
of silk (our were wool, dyed black). Poverty? She's heard of it.

And she had a strong German accent. "She's from the Munich Convent
of St Hildegard," explained the mother superior, followed by "Well,
I must get back to the mother house, things to do, people to see,
prayers to pray. Play nice!" and she bustled off.

So I showed her round our place. "We're an orphanage, 24 kids
and three, now four, nuns. And 24 dogs." "Hunde?" she asked. So
I explained our reasons for giving each child their own dog. And
when I got to our prayer area, she clapped her hands, and said,
"Ah gut, eine gymnasium."

"You use a gym," I asked? "Ab naturlich," she smiled. I was a
bit surprised, I thought that it was only St Hilda's that went in
for that sort of thing. So Hilde explained. "Ich bin ein schmied."
And so I asked, "Why would St Hildegard need a blacksmith?" "Because
horses we have, and landwirtschaftlich tools we need, St Hildegard
ein landwirtschaft is." I looked at her hands, they looked hard
as oak. "So you grow all your own food?" "Aber naturlich! Nonne
cannot live on prayer alone. You farm also?" "Nah," I said, "from
a supermarket we buy our scoff. Sainsbury's." If she's going to
speak half in German, then I'm going to use cockney.

And then I did a double take, and realised the implications of
what she's been saying in her foreign way. She's a blacksmith,
smiths are usually very strong, and she was delighted to see a gym.
"So how much can you lift," I asked, which is the standard question
St Hilda's nuns always ask. We are defined by our poundages. And
piety, of course. "Vierhundertfunfzig" she replied. I smiled, pretty
much any St Hilda's nun could do 450 pounds, and I personally could
do a few dozen more.

At compline, we all went to the gym to pray and lift. I think Hilde
rather liked the idea of combining the two in one activity. So we
all chanted together

  "O God, come to our aid.
  O Lord, make haste to help us.
  Glory be to the Father and to the Son
  and to the Holy Spirit,
  as it was in the beginning,
  is now, and ever shall be,
  world without end.
  Amen. Alleluia."

And Hilde said, I suppose, the same thing, but in German.  And then
Nora spotted me on the bench, and while I was working on the
500 pound weight, she said "Hilda's a bit impressive, don't you
think?" "Not really," I puffed, "she told me that her best lift was
450 and I'm doing more than that for reps." Nora shook her head. "No,
she's doing a lot more than that.  A lot." I racked the weight,
and had a look. Nora was right - no way was that 450. I got up
and strolled over to where Hilde was benching, and I counted the
iron disks.

We use 100 pound weights, because if you only use 50s, you get a
very crowded bar. Hilde had four on each side, so she was pushing
800 pounds steadily up and down. And then I realised. She had meant
kilograms, I did a quick calculation in my head - double it and add
ten per cent, and the 450 came to - oh my giddy aunt! "Nine ninety,"
I told Nora, "she's topping out at 990 pounds. Not even you can do
that." "Eight twenty is my current best clean and jerk," she said,
"she's pushing a thousand."

A thousand pounds, of course, is the hope and prayer of every St
Hilda's nun. It's a nice round number - five disks on each side of
the bar.  Nora eyed her enviously. "I wonder what they use instead
of Septadecaherbis", she mused, "and whether I can try it?" "Ask
her," I grumped.


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