As a boy, I used to walk around the living room copying the movements of the gunslingers I watched on television. I would stand in the living room, Candy cigarette hanging out of the corner of my mouth, legs apart, plastic gun hanging in its holster around my waist, waiting for my imaginary foe across the room to draw before I did (Just to give him a chance!) It’s a nice memory.
In fact, on one particular occasion I took my imaginary gun fight one step further. A priest came to visit my parents, can’t remember why (Probably to exercise them of their demons) Anyway, he was sat at the table in the living room when I sauntered John Wayne style through the door next to the table, dressed as a cowboy, complete with hat, sheriff star and my trusty old plastic six shooter.
My first instinct (Which I acted upon) was to advise the aforementioned priest to “Stick em up! However, I was just to fast on the draw and quicker than Billy the Kid, I drew my gun and knocked his hat off, which fell onto the table and knocked over his cup of tea, which soaked his hat!!
Needless to say, my parents were none to happy, but the priest, to his credit, laughed it off and actually sat me on his knee and let me pretend I was on a horse. Let me suggest that in today’s current climate that would probably be frowned upon!
So anyway, I’ve never been religious, despite of or because of the fact that my parents sent me off to church every Sunday (I very rarely went. I always made my way to the nearest football field for a kick about with my mates) But on the day of the ‘Hat in the tea incident ‘ I felt like I developed a certain amount of respect for the priest, so much so, that every now and then I’d pop in to church on Sunday to show my face, and respect.
So, that was just another memory I felt like sharing.