Me and the Bishop

The Rector asked who would like to be confirmed by the Bishop of Oxford.  I wasn't sure what this entailed, but he mentioned that we would need new dresses. That was all it took to bring me to religion - if he had mentioned shoes I would probably be a member of a closed order of nuns by now or perhaps an anchoress - a modern Julian of Norwich.

Confirmation lessons were surprisingly interesting - knowing so little about religion there was always something to surprise me - it was like some amazing soap opera with funny names.  The best bit came after the lesson when Mrs Rector used to make us hot chocolate and biscuits, then the Rector would turn off most of the lights and tell us ghost stories.

Confirmation day came and I put on my new dress (navy blue with a white sailor collar decorated with a couple of red anchors - I can see it now) - suspect the shoes weren't so good as I have no memories of them.  We get to church to find tens of small girls all dressed up as Barbie bride in flouncy white numbers with veils (sorry - again no recollection of what the boys wore).

I don't have a veil and am in a panic.  Mum, although not an experienced confirmation attendee, was not to be defeated - she attaches my baby sister's muslin cloth (i.e. the cloth for wiping baby puke - let's not beat around the bush) to my head.

I'm sure the Bishop winced when he came to bless me - it may have been the matelot outfit or the delicate aroma of  vomit issuing from my hair.