I have a vivid memory of the moment I realised Santa didn’t exist. I was around six years old, it was the height of summer, and I was sitting on the step outside our back door, thinking about God. The existence of God, back then, was something that annoyed me: it meant that every Sunday, we had to go to church.
Then I realised: there isn’t actually any evidence God exists. I only think God exists, because this is something people have told me.
