old men's necks

Another unwanted reminiscence, while at a lecture I recalled (this is definitely not as classy as Proust, but a step up from potty training) joyless attendances at church, which mostly seemed to involve starting at the backs of old men's necks.
The necks always seemed to be very heavily lined and porous and the lines and wrinkles and pores seemed to be a darker colour so I spent a lot of time wondering if the the old geezers actually washed the backs of their necks properly. As a virtuous child, I usually regretted such unkind thoughts immediately it being in a church and in the Presence, but at the same time I resented the elderly gents for having necks that brought on such thoughts.
They seemed to be healthier old men than in recent times, they didnt seem to cough and shake and suck their gums as geriatric types in symphony concerts do now, or maybe the repetitive nature of mass and the droning of the priest was unimportant enough that coughing and spluttering livened things up in an acceptable and wholly forgettable manner

Dont go there

It suddenly occurred to me, while engaged in similar activity -- that my earliest clear memory is not as I normally think, related to not going to school aged three and a half (I remember the school sending somebody to find out if I would go -- a happening so bizarre I couldnt have made it up and certainly nobody ever told me such a thing -- a suspicion which taints a lot of my other supposed early memories)
but instead recollections of toilet training. Various vignettes of same. Definitely dont want to go there, but its the truth.