That was when I was about ten. Although 5 to 10 were fucking woeful too. I started not going at about 12, pretending I was and finding out who said the Mass, my mum always knew. So did I. It was a Mexican stand off. Once she tried to catch me out.
who sad Mass?
Father Murphy
what was his sermon about?
Mum no one knows what’s he’s talking about.
Mum gives a resigned look of acknowledgement as he was well known for being a rambling, incoherent babbler and I live to not go for another week. Every mother had a network to catch us, you had to get right to fuck away from our neighbourhood. It was a big thing to do this and my mum would have gone apeshit if I got caught. Just think how fucking insane this is. Like the fucking dark ages. Kind of put me off the whole notion. Never looked back when I kicked the whole charade into touch.