SATURDAY 16 NOVEMBER 1985.

  2.30am! Awake! No further sleep! This is ridiculous! Perhaps it is another way of extending a holiday - by being awake longer and have more hours to appreciate it! I decided to use the time usefully and wrote my thoughts on my pilgrimage which I could deliver on my first Sunday back at Hill Chapel. I was hoping that my own homily would put me to sleep - but no such luck!

  Fr Alphonsus, the priest from Austria, had arranged to celebrate 5.00am Mass at Calvary. At supper, the night before, he was having second thoughts about the wisdom of such an early start. I knocked on his door at 4.50am. His voice came from the depths of slumber, 'Yeh, you say Mass in my place.' and so, in the peace and solitude of that early hour, I celebrated Mass at Calvary.

  After Mass I went to 6.30am Mass. What an inspiring sight it was to see the 85 year old organist limp across to the gallery steps, and to see, as always, the tears in the eyes of the congregation. For most, it was one of the greatest moments in their lives.

  After breakfast, Stanley, a Californian student at the Sion course, joined me as we walked to the Jaffa Gate to catch the Arab bus to Bethlehem. It must have been the oldest bus in the world - I have seen better ones used as hen-huts - but it would take us to Bethlehem and we didn't mind.

  We decided to walk to Beit Sahour. I must have 'sold' the walk to him! Having learnt from my mistake five days before, we double-checked at all the junctions and at a leisurely pace arrived in 35 minutes. For 45 minutes we had the place to ourselves and used the time to look closely at the various paintings, inscriptions and characteristics which added to its special peace.

  A German group arrived. Soon there were shouts from the church in the cave. They had no priest. Would I say Mass? After a some debate, consultation and hustle, I celebrated Mass using various bits and pieces of English, Latin, Greek and German. The group sang carols, and Stille Nacht after Holy Communion. They were delighted and I felt privileged to offer Mass there. We would probably never meet again but we have photographs and memories to recall that beautiful morning in the Shepherds' Fields.

  Stanley and I turned down two offers of a lift to Bethlehem - one from an Irish couple, and another from Brother Theifield, as we wanted to walk the return journey to Bethlehem. We - at least, I - chose the direct route to bring us up the Milk Grotto Road. This also happened to be the steepest - and Stanley who had spent the last 20 years of his life behind a desk, found it really tough going. Well you know what my hikes are like!.

  We paid another visit to the Basilica of the Nativity and knelt at the star which marks the birthplace of Jesus Christ. Outside, we sat down for nourishment, with Stanley, from sunny California, sitting in the shade, and I, soaking up the very hot sunshine.

  I paid a farewell visit to Giacamans - will it be five years, or longer, before I see them again? Will I ever return? Our Arab bus - the same old one - chugged out of Bethlehem at 3.00pm. After four visits to Bethlehem and two to the Shepherds' Fields, I felt very pleased and happy about the time I had spent there. It was November and in a few weeks, 'The little town of Bethlehem' would be mentioned frequently in the hymns, readings and liturgy of Advent and Christmas.

  Alright then, I took a short nap on my return to the hotel and was fully rested for the concelebrated Sunday Vigil Mass at 6.OOpm in the Ecce Home Church. We were given another long, long homily which gave me ample time to study, at close range, the pillars which stood when Herod showed Christ to the crowd. We sang the hymns to excellent guitar accompaniment; one of the guitarists was a keen Barry McGuiggan fan and afterwards we discussed the talents of the World Champion from my home town of Clones.

  I was late for dinner (that sermon or Barry McGuiggan?) but had ample time for another crash course in Italian. Later, the staff excitedly called me to the reception desk to tell me they had heard great news. 'There is an agreement of peace between Great Britain and Ireland' they announced. It wasn't exactly an accurate summary of the news, but we agreed that it was good news when there was some agreement to ending the violence. Perhaps they spoke with a mixture of joy, sorrow and envy as they longed for similar news in their own troubled land.