York Hill Chapel
The first time I was sent to Sunday School was on Sunday afternoons at my father’s chapel, in York Hill. There were probably two rows of us, mostly waiting to go home. On one occasion, some Teddy Boys banged on the door and our Sunday School teacher repelled them with a hefty shoulder to the door. She claimed that God had given her extra strength. While we were pleased about that, all we wanted to do was to get out.
The second Sunday School I was sent to was on Sunday mornings at the Elim Tabernacle, in the Lanes, opposite the Bath Arms. It had a huge interior and later I realised that it had an interesting and fairly ancient history.
The aging Miss Stokes
Sunday School was run by Miss Stokes. She seemed, to us, to be about 90. She had a particularly striking feature in that she had impossibly bad breath. The service began with a hymn such as ‘Jesus wants me for a sunbeam’. This lead onto a biblical story from Miss Stokes and ended with an impromptu prayer. We hardly filled half a pew of what was a huge space.
I don’t remember how or why I stopped going to Sunday School. I suspect it was for much the same reason as I later left my father’s church. I didn’t believe a word of it.