I went to Church. It wasn't too bad.

I went to church last weekend because my daughter is Christian-curious, reads the Bible every day; and yet I am a dusty old lapsed Catholic in blizzard washed Warehouse jeans and a jumper, who scrolls Twitter (and still calls it Twitter).

She wore a dress.

I wore whatever I could find on the floor. The floor is my wardrobe and I like it that way because at least I can find things.

We had talked about which church would be the most suitable for our needs. I thought the one that started at at least 11, but no. They start at 9:30.

As we drove around, I noticed my fuel light was on and we would need to choose a church that was relatively close.

And there it was. A good solid Anglican number, presumably facing toward England. The parish had recently held a garage sale to raise funds for unisex toilets, and across the parish lawns were strewn old books or the odd portable bassinet. It actually reminded me of my own house.

We ambled down the driveway to the main assembly area. I had no idea what I was doing but it all started to make sense. Someone opened the door for us, and then a person in vestments noticed we were new. Shit.

As much as I tried to make it about my daughter’s first time in church, I knew that it was all about my first time back in church. I’m not going to talk about belief here.

Ok, so I lost belief in God when dad died.

It happened in the undertakers. Dad was restored to an almost Botox-rich life, but dead at the same time. And I thought: this guy has absolutely left the planet. There was no Heaven or Hell at all. He just left us and I have never had the Sensing Murder vibes that I will ever see him again.

Meanwhile, my daughter had an amazing time. She even took the Sacrament that was offered to all who believe. I sat still in the middle pew and watched the slow-moving double-queue of believers and watched her walk up to the altar.

After a lot of singing, we were back in the social vestibule. Gregg’s Red Ribbon roast was flowing and I noticed that the majority of the congregation were over the age of 70. Is this how people survive old age?

The problem I am having is continuity. Because my daughter is now hooked, so am I.

I have a stye on my left eyelid that needs seeing to. Can I wear sunglasses to tomorrow's service? At least I can look down alot more.