Jun
10
2009
Secret 8 – I used to want to be a nun
When I was a child, I really really wanted to be a nun. I was quite a devout ‘Litttle Catholic’ as my grandmother used to call me, always bothering the Lord, fiddling with my rosery beads, toting round a small Tupperware box of holy water from Lourdes (seriously), singing hymns, making up my own prayers and colouring in pictures of Jesus.
Sister Spud
I had a picture of the Pope on my bedroom wall, and used to turn it around when I got undressed at night, in his case His Holiness suddenly developed an All Seeing Sense and was offended by my Wombles knickers and Holly Hobbit nightdress.
I can’t remember when it tipped in to ‘I know, why don’t I BE a nun’, or when I realised perhaps I wasn’t up for getting me to a nunnery after all. Quite probably the realisation that I might have to have a man’s name and the fact that nearly every nun I knew was actually quite vicious…Sister Joseph Mary where are you now, with your ruler slapping across the backs of knuckles and yells of “Spudballo…I’ll..slap…your…LEGS!”. What a lovely, Christian woman she was.
As a child my mother thought there were three sexes: men, women and nuns. Nuns sounded like women, but didn’t wear make up and had short hair hidden under their veils, wore long black dresses to the ground (in those days), but had big heavy ugly black lace up shoes. So, men, women and nuns.
Mind you, my mother’s judgement shouldn’t be relied on. She also thought that the reason men go bald is because they run out of hair as it grows from the top of their heads, down in to their beards and eventually they just run out of hair altogether…it’s all been ‘bearded’ out, as it were.
The Lord and I aren’t quite so pally these days, since I ditched the chance to be a Bride of Christ in favour of being a Bride of MrSpud (nicer clothes and less rules).
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