Take a pew

As a child, I attended a Church of England school in the south of England and this meant that we would regularly have services in the local church. The church was one of those that would suck the warmth out of the air into its walls; of stone; I think on one occasion we could see clouds of our breath and it was July.

St Mary's church had uncomfortable wooden pews, prayer cushions that we never used and hymn books with paper so thin you were in danger of splitting an atom if you torn the page. However, it was the location for the Nativity Play each Christmas and other school events that parents would be obliged to attend.

Some of my childhood memories take place within that church, such as playing Joseph every Christmas. I'll have to ask my mum why I was regularly picked for the part, but it was the fact that some of the girls in my class would argue over who would play Mary - I think there was a fight one year - that it stays with me.

One of the best memories involves my brother, a marrow and the annual harvest festival. He was given the marrow to carry in the short procession around the church and then lay it upon the altar, with the other offerings. Our mum accompanied him into the church carrying the massive marrow, his teacher led him to his pew, fifteen-minutes passed and the procession began. As my brother walked passed Mum empty-handed, she was baffled and asked the teacher where his marrow had gone…he'd lost it.

The joys of attending church were balanced out by the time everybody forgot the words to the Lord's Prayer and were made to repeatedly write it out back at school. There was also the Christmas service during which the congregation was subliminally encouraged to commit suicide. It was so depressing, we sang 'In the Bleak Midwinter', foul-smelling incense was burned and the service was officiated by a monotone vicar.

As I grew up, I began hearing more and more stories about the church from my parents, who were on the PTA. The church never invested any money into our school, the church is one of the largest landowners in England and why do they always need money to repair their roof - the one part of the building you can't see needs repairing?

My disillusionment with the church increased with age, until the only religious aspect about me was the fact I had been christened. When I was in my late-teens, my uncle asked me if I would be a Godfather to my cousin, to which I replied, "Yes, I'd love to!" While I was repeating the vows during the service, I was making my own promises in my head and heart; they weren't religious, but they meant a great deal to me.

In 1998, when I was spending my first three months in Finland on an exchange trip, my future wife was in the process of leaving the Lutheran church, "Why be a member of a club that doesn't interest me?" she asked. At one point I was a little worried, she was leaving the church, she was always wearing black and she had a black cat, so I used to play 'Witchy Woman' by The Eagles whenever she stopped by.

Since neither of us had any religious alliance, when it came to planning our wedding we opted for a civil service. We wanted to make use of Finland's natural scenery, so we held the service beside a lake, surrounded by birch trees and our families looking on. On the day, I thought that the setting was more religious than any church, since we were surrounded by 'His' work and not a manmade structure.

Now we have had a daughter, the time came to decide whether we would christen her, but we felt that would be a little hypocritical. Together, my wife and I planned a naming ceremony for and made the whole affair far more personal than any text from a Bible ever could. Katie will be raised to make her own decisions and she can explore any faith she chooses…so long as it isn't Manchester United.