I went to school in the Holy Faith Convent in Clontarf and I was probably one of the few Protestants who went to a convent secondary school in 1962. I went because all my friends did and I wanted to stay with them. I must have been a sort of belligerent young woman, so I insisted that I go there and my mother conceded.

I had gone to Belgrove for primary, which is also Catholic, so I had come right up through the Catholic system. Belgrove was the nearest school to my house and it was literally within walking distance for a five-year-old. I could easily walk there by myself and I did.

It was difficult enough in those days. I remember sitting in class listening to primary teachers talking about these "black Protestants" and not to play with them and thinking, "gosh, that's me". Luckily I had very good friends, so the peer group didn't put any pass on it at all.

Children survive, and primary did have its tough moments, but I suppose it's all part of the educational process, to be able to cope with those kind of differences. I'm sure it has stood to me. I probably would have been reasonably bright and you survived on your brains really. Credit was given for achievement and if you could achieve you were regarded as a good child.

In those days of girls' education, I recall having the impression that I was being educated to be an air hostess, or a nurse, or a secretary. Many of us knew that wasn't for us because we had notions about our selves and what we aspired to do. I was in school with people like Terry Prone, and Kathryn Davies the sports writer, and Mary Lentin - they would have been my peers in the class, so we were a strong-minded bunch of women.

In those days we didn't have science in school and I always regretted that. Many girls' schools didn't offer science. You were streamed very much by ability and the A class did classics and Latin, the B class would have done commerce and the C class would have done domestic science.

I was very interested in Irish. We had a teacher called Ms O'Shea who was a native Irish speaker and she used to take us to the Gael Linn debates and she taught us history - and geography - as Gaeilge. I can still visualise her. She was a wonderful role model. As somebody who had a career, she just inspired us.

I loved the history and geography because of the way she taught them. I can see how a really good teacher can enthuse the young ones to be interested in learning for the sake of learning and not for the sake of passing exams. She knew Peig's family and she used to tell us stories about life in the Gaeltacht areas.

Miss Walsh, who took four of us for honours maths, was another teacher who took an individual interest. I had a feeling that I would like to go on and do something using maths, but in those days it was a very revolutionary thought to go on and do something after getting married. I did have notions that I would like to continue working.

In those days the marriage bar was in place, so essentially our role was to get engaged, get married and have children. The notion of education for women was for children to have an educated mother. There was some encouragement to go on to college, but only in the sense that it would be a place to meet appropriate husbands. It was the norm that you wouldn't carry on working after you were married.

There was a sort of understanding that the key thing would be to get engaged before you were 23 years of age, and I did myself. I did go to college and I qualified as a chartered accountant. We had our lectures in university and I met my husband there.

I think I was definitely one of the wilder elements. I loved sailing and I used to always mitch from school to go sailing. The nuns used to walk along the sea-front wall and it was difficult not to get caught. I used to serve pints in the bar in the yacht club afterwards and, unfortunately, one time I had my photograph taken and it was in the paper. I got into very serious trouble over that, but in general it was a very happy time and I enjoyed it.

In conversation with Olivia Kelly