Forgive me, Master Yoda

It's Census Night in Oz. I filled mine out online because that was the easiest way.

When I completed the previous census, in 2001, I ticked "Other" for religion, then wrote "Jedi" in the additional information box underneath.

In the weeks beforehand, an e-mail had circulated encouraging people to do this in the hope the Australian Bureau of Statistics would recognise the Jedi way (whatever that might be). It'd been two years since "The Phantom Menace" and rumours were flying like pod racers on Tatooine re: "Attack Of the Clones", fuelling my passion. I "reasoned" that since I thought about "Star Wars" every day but couldn't say the same for any religion, it was most truthful to put Jedi.

Add to this the fact I was nearing 30, going through a first-third-of-life crisis and unable to afford a convertible sports car (I settled for backpacking most of the way around New Zealand).

In tonight's census - forgive me, Master Yoda - I didn't answer Jedi. I put Catholic, which is what I was raised.

I haven't started going to church again or anything, but I find myself thinking about it regularly, even missing it.

There's always going to be a connection there for someone who was head altar boy and being steered towards deacon-hood (and eventually priesthood) before I gave up on Sunday mass.

Sometimes I wonder if we can ever separate ourselves from what we were taught as kids - whether by religion teachers and the local parish priest or a little green guy who lived in a galaxy far, far away.