First Holy Communion picture.

I was probably 6/7. It was taken in Mansfield, Nottinghamshire. We’d moved there from Kent in 1959 while I was still aged 5.

I was inordinately proud of that belt which had been given to me as a souvenir from Holland. It had clogs, windmills, and ladies in traditional Dutch clothing on it.

I apologise for the knobbly knees…shorts were de rigeur in those days. I was never as angelic as this photo may suggest! I was also very short-sighted, but no one had yet discovered that. It may explain the glazed expression. The ferocious nuns at my RC school forced us to adopt these sickly poses.

Indeed, their ferocity and liberal use of a cane, inter alia, eventually led to my parents falling out with the RC church in general. When we first went to a CE church, I thought I was going to be struck down immediately, such was the propaganda that had been drilled into us children. If God was keen to demonstrate his displeasure, he’s left it rather late as I am now happily worshipping as an Anglo-Catholic and have been for many years.

Oops! I’ve rambled on, but hopefully some memories may have been stirred in some of you. Keep well, everyone.