I was schooled in a Roman Catholic convent, it wasn't a very pleasant place to grow. As soon as we moved to a different county (I was 13 by then) my mother, who was not religious at all, invited the local vicar for tea. I hid upstairs but mother made me meet this guy. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
I did ask her why she bothered, especially in light of her Agnostic leaning, to make me go through this shit again. She was shocked about my earlier schooling tales, but admitted she thought I just might like to continue with 'my faith'. She thought it would be good for me...
Trouble is, I never really liked this Christianity thing. It was morbid, scary & filled with punishment for any slights (in my convent experience). Didn't like it from the off. Didn't believe it was true, or certainly hoped it wasn't.
The more I met 'god's minions the more I realised it was... shit, bullocks, full of lies.
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