Few people or things really give me the creeps. Jehovah's Witnesses definitely do although I am pretty certain I wouldn't be able to single one out in a crowd if my life depended on it. I have probably sat next to many of them on trains, buses and planes and stood next to them in life's list of long queues and was none the wiser.

I have probably also gone on to exchange the usual pleasantries and niceties we seem to reserve for that horrible time when we're standing at the till waiting our turn, wondering why we always land the slow lane, the one with the cashier who is obviously new and struggling with a barcode which persistently refuses to show up on screen, or, with the lady who, after what seems like forever counting coins, suddenly realises she can't cough up all the cash and has to call her husband or another family member.

And perhaps it was a Jehovah who let me overtake when I had only the one item versus his Hurricane Katrina preparing for disaster trolley, and I was clearly going to be all of six seconds.

Still, in my mind Jehovah Witnesses are creepy people. Then again, I don't think I have ever actually seen or met one officially because the few times they have come a visiting, knocking or ringing at my door, there were three flights of stairs and about three doors between us and the entire exchange would have taken place over the intercom.

One of them just came by now. At first I thought it was my Amazon Christmas order that had finally arrived and my heart leapt wildly, because few things are lovelier than receiving a parcel. I'm sure if they ever compiled a list of life's truly delightful moments, receiving an Amazon order would definitely be on it. It's a joyous event in my world anyway - even better than getting into bed on clean sheets day.

But it wasn't my order. It was a Jehovah and my initial reaction was 'What, they still exist'? One sort of imagines that they just packed it all in one day and gave up preaching. Whenever I hear the Jehovah Witness spiel, I suddenly think of blood transfusions and Christmas trees (because for some reason they are the only two things I associate with their not-so-'good news') and I get this mental picture of someone very unhinged, unhappy and Ku Klux Klannish. I can only imagine the barrage of abuse I am going to receive online for making this observation, so I will for the record state that I am not drawing parallels here. Neither am I suggesting that Jehovah Witnesses are a racist hate group. I'm sure they're lovely people and happier than me and Catholic Joe. It's just that whenever I happen to come across one of their 'Witnesses', my hair stands on end and I get the shivers. We can't help the way our mind works... association of ideas is something we have no control over.

Jehovah Witnesses have the strangest effect of making me more religious, if that is even possible. Or perhaps, let's just say they make me like my religion better. I am not religious. I like to think that I do live a Christian sort of life which basically and loosely means that I try to be a good person, within very obvious human parameters and failings. And although I do go to church on occasion, and sometimes even enjoy it, I still prefer churches when they're empty.

And though there are countless things that I find wanting and annoying about the Church and my Roman Catholic religion generally, some of which I have written about here, I do feel a sense of belonging and I certainly don't want to belong anywhere else. I find it laughable that people actually dare ring your doorbell and try to sell you a religion. It's scary. It reminds me of those characters in John Grisham novels - leprechaun, ambulance chasing-type people who sell you some dodgy life insurance policy and jinx you forever so that your life is never quite the same afterwards.

You see it's the sales pitch that grates on me and puts me off completely and utterly. I have a great deal of respect for all the major world religions because to me, religion is something awe- inspiring. You may not feel an affinity with or necessarily want to be a part of a particular religion, but you can still appreciate it on a number of levels.

On a recent trip to Romania, I ditched the shopping malls and found myself visiting one church after another - mostly Eastern Orthodox. I was completely enthralled by what I saw. Each and every church had carpets strewn about, Christmas trees, cushions, a sink at the back, and were always supervised by volunteers. Locals paid frequent visits and seemed to pray so intensely, intently and devoutly, with repeated ferocious signs of the cross (not in quite the way we make ours), frequently bending forward and kissing the ground, fiercely kissing statues, that I found myself wanting to ask a lot of questions. Which I did.

Apparently churches in Romania are designed to make worshippers feel at home - hence the carpets, the Christmas trees, the cushions and the sink where people can wash their hands at will. I didn't actually attend a service although I was very tempted to, but laziness prevailed. In- below freezing temperatures, with me, it would. I was, however, told that it could last the whole of four hours or even longer, but one is free to come and go.

And that is what religion should be about. It should be thought-provoking, make you want to ask questions, arouse your curiosity. It's then entirely up to you whether you want to discover more about it or even endorse it. Religion should not be rammed down your throat or your intercom and certainly not be posted in your letter box like the turkey sausages that are on offer at Lidl.

michelaspiteri@gmail.com