MONDAY 11 NOVEMBER 1985

 It was 4.20am when I heard the Moslem alarm go off! I was very tired and was beginning to think that I might eventually be able to sleep through the alarm. I visited Calvary and the Tomb again. The 6.30am Mass was delayed - some American priests and, let it be recorded, bishops, were late.

  After breakfast, an elderly Austrian asked me to put him on the bus to Bethlehem. I decided to go with him - any excuse! We chose the Arab 22 bus - the cheapest - but not before he ran across four busy lanes of traffic to find out who the pilgrims were on the far side! 'Bologna', he shouted, as he dodged the cars on the way back.

  In Bethlehem we parted on the Jerusalem side of the hill leading up to Manger Square. The bus couldn't go into the centre due to road subsidence. The hardpressed traders weren't happy about that. I wanted to retrace the steps of the shepherds on their way back to the fields after they had seen the child. But a slight difficulty occurred! From the point of departure I couldn't see the famous church which was shaped like a a Bedouin tent. I followed the signs to Bet Sahour - Shepherds' Fields - but there are three Bet Sahours - the village, the Protestant site, and the Catholic Church. I walked in a South Easterly direction, asking the way from everyone I met.

  I showed a photograph of the church to some workmen, who looked closely and sent me in the right direction. At last, I saw the welcome sight of the distinctive unique church at 9.30am. It is a good thing the angels knew how to find it on the first Christmas!

  I had hoped to celebrate Mass there, but there just wasn't time to do so between the times booked by the Italian and German groups. Then I suggested to the Franciscan Brother that I might be able to say Mass outside. The Franciscan Brother said, 'Ah, yes the garden.' He rushed along and he led me to a most beautiful secluded area, where I said the Dawn Mass of Christmas Day. It was a most wonderful experience and I will always remember the happy, smiling Franciscan priest, Brother Theifield. We talked about that special place and he agreed that he looked after the nicest place in the Holy Land.

  On that beautiful sunny morning, I sat back and listened to the sound of Christmas carols - Adeste Fideles, Angels we have heard on high, Silent Night ..... - coming from the pilgrims in the Bedouin Church, the Chapel in the cave, and the garden. It is Christmas Day every day there, and it was my favourite place in the Holy Land.

An American TV crew was recording a film about the part shepherds had played in the history of the chosen people.

  The churches and grounds at the Shepherds' Fields are closed for a few hours each afternoon. One of the Masses was followed by a talk by a guide who overran the time allotted to that group. I used to listen in to the guides occasionally and generally, I thought they spoke far too much in the places where the walls, the building, the mosaics, and the atmosphere spoke volumes.

  Brother Theifield had agreed to drive me to Bethlehem and it was 12.15pm (half an hour late) before we got away. Having Christmas every day has its problems! We parted near Manger Square. I was most grateful to him for all his help and kindness. I looked in briefly at the Nativity Grotto. There, the people who had overstayed at the Shepherds' Fields had time for only the briefest of visits. A shame!

  I was ready for a rest and a few quiet moments, and I ate my lunch by the side of the Square only to be joined by the shoeshine man who gave me a running commentary on all the types of people who were trying to sell souvenirs at the entrance to the Basilica. Worse still, as tourists passed, he rang a bell to attract their attention and disturb my much needed forty winks.

  I went down some side streets to change cheques into dollars. At last, I found a little office, but as I stood there in the middle of those strangers, with the moneychanger persistently trying to overcharge, I knew that I had made a serious mistake and felt that I, or at least my money, was at risk. As the man behind the counter persisted in trying to give me the wrong amount, I stood my ground, demanded the right amount, gathered the money and was greatly relieved to leave the building intact. I resolved to be more careful and selective in future.

  I paid a quick visit to Giacamans to buy some Bethlehem cards and enjoyed another snack, looking down over the hillside where I had spent that morning. I could clearly see the Shepherds Fields' Church and it was quite a distance from Shepherds Fields' Village. Yes, I could see where I had gone astray.

  I caught the Arab bus back to Jerusalem and strolled down to Calvary calling on the way at a shop to make more bargain purchases of Last Supper plaques. I was there for an hour and had a long discussion with the monk about the differences between my first and second visits. On the first, I had been wide-eyed like a child on Christmas morning, and felt lifted up to the heavens. On this second visit, many of the same feelings were present but I was more aware of the political problems. I was also meeting and talking to more people and I wasn't thinking of each trader as an opponent who was out to better me. I was relaxing more in their company and enjoyed our conversations. I began to appreciate the friendly side of their nature and, with some other pilgrims at the Casa Nova, felt ashamed that I had mistrusted many of them in the way I guarded my belongings, instead of giving them a friendly greeting.

  After 6.00pm I witnessed the rapid recitation of Greek prayers and the Veneration of Calvary (in which I joined) for the closing of Calvary for the day. When I emerged from the church, I saw some tourists walking away under armed guard. I didn't know what the problem was, but it was a very visible reminder of the threat of violence in the place where Christ died a violent death.