THE number of women in Britain getting themselves to a nunnery has reached a 25-year high with figures trebling in the past five years.

For context, this is from 15 in 2009 to 45 in 2014.

But still, the Catholic church is boasting.

Never mind the many and varied sins available in the modern world, the church's pull is regaining strength.

The lure, apparently, is a "gap in the market for meaning in our culture". One postulant described the choice as trying to explain why you choose the person to marry that you do - it's difficult to summarise accurately a relationship of love. She said: "I was drawn to it by wanting a greater freedom in being able to give myself to God and the world."

God probably has enough to occupy himself with but I can understand the desire to live a life in service. If nothing else, it must give a warm, smug feeling to be dedicated to the advancement of others. I'd not be so keen on a reflective life - imagine hours of silence in which to mull over all your drunken mistakes and terrible romantic choices - but the apostolic life might be nice.

Volunteering and teaching in exchange for bed and board has its appeal. Nursing and midwifery could be left to my sisters, I don't fancy anything involving blood or small children, and certainly not both at once.

Being at the whim of external forces would be pleasant. I am incapable of making decisions. Nuns forfeit the right to choose where they live and with whom they live. Their new names are chosen for them and they have a set dress. Not to mention that their choices are given up to the whims of a higher power. And if something goes wrong, there's always someone else to blame. That would be marvellous.

Nuns have a longer life span than the average female population. A clear sense of purpose and the positive emotions of prayer and sisterhood seem to give them something to live, and live long, for.

Poverty's probably not too bad when you have a roof over your head and someone reliably feeding you. Chastity and obedience might take a bit of getting used to. So might the 5.30am starts for lauds.

No decisions, no responsibilities, guaranteed work and guaranteed chums.

The idea of being a nun is definitely appealing. The only problem is my fear of commitment. There you go: a decision I can settle on by myself after all.