ABSTRACT
I don’t think one of us really knew what it was about, but we were somehow separate; some like Ian Baggett, even thought they were chosen. I found it more difficult. I was ‘chapel’ not through direct family but through a powerful grandmother and spiritual adoption. My mother and father were carelessly infidel, at best glad to have me out of the house on Sundays, at worst fiercely sceptical. ‘Don’t you come that creeping Jesus stuff here’, was quite sufficient martyrdom for an eleven or twelve-year-old aspiring boy-preacher.
