A Good Little Church Boy

Having been depressed again recently, I thought I would get some more down on the Blog. I stopped having counselling a few months a go, but I found that getting it off my chest did help It's taken me a while to want to do this so here goes.

Church On Sunday

My Father always insisted that we attend Church on Sunday, unless we were away such as the holidays already mentioned. If I was at camp we had a service anyway and if it was Remembrance Sunday or St Georges day, I would attend Church with my Scout troop.

Our local Church was a fairly modern C of E building.. My Father despite his ideas was in no way a Catholic, despite his beliefs about 'sin', but every Sunday, come rain or shine, my Brother and I would put on a tie, sometimes our school uniform, but always in a shirt and trousers and walk to Church. The only time I ever remember being driven was when my mother was alive.

Our Vicar throughout my childhood years was a man called Mr Vincent. He was probably in his late forties as I remember him, dark, greying hair with quite a long-ish bushy beard which could vary in length. Sometimes it was quite long and halfway down his chest. He wasn't fat but more expanded in the waist and when he wasn't wearing his dog collar, he would wear a tweed jacket with patches on the elbows.

The other thing I recall about him was he had terrible dandruff and when he wore his black shirt it would be covered in flakes from his scalp and from his beard. He was never married that I knew of but lived on his own in a large old Vicarage behind overgrown shrubs and trees.

We would usually sit as a family when I was younger, presumably so my Father could keep an eye on us, but later on after my Brother had left home, I would usually be allowed to sit wherever I wanted, with Nathan as his parents went to the same Church, and we would try for the back pews, or at least as far back as decency permitted.

Unless my Father was angry with me or building up to one of his explosions, Nathan and I would meet inside the Church and take a pew together.

I remember nothing of Mr Vincent's sermons, I probably wasn't listening as Nathan and I would whisper to each other and muck about as quietly as possible, always standing when a hymn was called, although perhaps not singing and trying to avoid the gaze of the Vicar as he stood elevated by his pulpit.

Again if my Father was in a good mood, Nathan and I would walk back together, sometimes to his house, sometimes to mine through the park. If his parents were going somewhere without him, there would be opportunity for us to masturbate together in his room.

Masturbation was my  main 'sin' in my teens.

None of this would be possible if my Father was in a bad mood. I would have to sit next to him and make it look like I was paying attention. Of course he knew Mr Vincent quite well. It was he who had performed my Mother's funeral and must have watched us two boys growing up in front of him every Sunday. However until I was 14, my Father had never approached Mr Vincent about my upbringing before.

I think the reason was that my Father's temper and his view that I was becoming uncontrollable were snowballing into something bigger than it actually was. I was usually in fear of my Father and would try to be on my best behaviour most of the time, but this was no good if he was approaching one of his explosions. Whatever I did, he would find fault, eventually culminating in me getting a good hiding!

One Sunday he stayed behind to talk with Mr Vincent and I went off with Nathan as usual. There was nothing unusual about that as he often exchanged pleasantries with him and discussed the wrongs of the world and the youth of that day.

A couple of days afterwards when I arrived home from school, Mr Vincent was in the living room talking with my Father. I greeted him as my manners had taught me to do and I was asked to go to my room whilst they talked some more. I knew then that they were talking about me.

This set me into a panic as I knew my Father was up to something.

After some time there was a knock at my bedroom door and Mr Vincent came in.

He asked me to sit down and as there was only my desk chair, he had to sit on my bed which I recall I wasn't very happy about. It made me feel uncomfortable.

My Father had indeed told him all about how 'sinful' I was and when Mr Vincent mentioned the 'M' word I wanted to curl up and die with embarrassment. He also mentioned about evil forces at work and I wonder now if my Father had referred to the strange goings on in the house at the time.

Boys Brigade was suggested by Mr Vincent

He suggested two things. Firstly that I join the Boys Brigade which was run by himself and a couple of other people in association with the Church. In fact, they were always present at Remembrance Sunday marches and such and I knew a couple of boys within the BB who went to my school.

Secondly, that I come over to his house on Saturday mornings for some personal tuition and Bible study with him. He would set me some reading and perhaps an essay each week and then we would discuss various aspects of the passages included.

At this, my heart just sank as I thought my Father had done this to prevent me from going to Football practice on Saturday mornings. I felt he was just trying to get back at me and stop me from having a life. On top of all that, I had a lot of homework to do most evenings and I couldn't see how on earth I was going to have time to write essays on the Bible as well.

After he had gone I stayed in my room sulking until my Father came in and said that he had agreed with Mr Vincent's ideas all except the Boys Brigade and the only reason for that was that he would have to fork out for a whole new uniform and there was no way he was going to do that!

It was just as well as I was happy in the Scouts and all my mates were there and I didn't want to leave. In fact I had always thought that I would stay on into the Venture Scouts and beyond and maybe even become a leader myself.

I sulked in my room.......

When the next Sunday came round, Mr Vincent asked to to come into the vestry with him and gave me some reading to do and some questions to answer. The following Saturday, I was to go to the Vicarage at 9:30 with my work and we would see how it went from there.

I hated reading the Bible and the passages I was given were uninteresting and dull. However I duly did the work set and turned up on time. It was a huge old house that smelt very musty and was very untidy. Maybe he didn't have a housekeeper? I never knew.

In actual fact, he came over as kindly and understanding. I think my Father must have painted a picture of me being unruly, wilful and disobedient, which I wasn't and when Mr Vincent realise this, he was well disposed towards me. He embarrassed me by talking about onanism and how I felt about it. I think he understood all boys did it, but of course, I was doing it with Nathan as well which was a definite no, no!

What actually happened was that after a few months, the Saturday sessions got further apart as he realised he couldn't do anything for me until they eventually stopped altogether. Nothing was ever said about not coming. He had better things to do with his time and so did I.

I only ever went to one Boys Brigade meeting, in my School uniform, before that idea was dropped on it's head as well. I stayed with the Scouts until I was nearly 17.