SUNDAY 17 NOVEMBER 1985.

  My last full day in the Holy Land! The Moslem singer and the Christian bells seemed very far away and I didn't get up until 6.00am - eight and a half hours in bed - a personal Holy Land record! I walked to the Holy Sepulchre and sat for a while in the corridor chapel which commemorates the appearance of Jesus to Mary Magdalen. There were many corridors, chapels and quiet little corners which can only be discovered in time.

  After breakfast I went back to the Holy Sepulchre briefly. The Coptic Church Liturgy was in full flow, while a short distance away, in the Greek Chapel before the Tomb, a two and a half hour liturgy with incense, candles, chanting, colour was being filmed.

  I heard that there was a Mass at 9.00am at the Notre Dame Sisters, just outside the walls. It is a convent, church and hotel, and although I had already celebrated Mass, I concelebrated again. There was a tremendous contrast between the liturgy of the Holy Sepulchre, based more on Middle Ages ceremonial and the more modern Notre Dame liturgy - but both based on the events that took place in the city nineteen and a half centuries before. Afterwards, over complimentary cups of excellent coffee, an American priest told me of the latest developments in the United States over receiving Holy Communion under both kinds.

  Then I set off by bus to Tel Aviv. By 12.15pm, I was eating my picnic watching the waves of the Mediterranean lapping a few feet away. I walked along the sea front of the modern town of Tel Aviv to the Old City of Jaffa, or Joppe.

  Jonah had set out from Jaffa to escape the call of the Lord who wanted him to preach dire warnings to the Ninevites. No wonder he wasn't keen. He didn't like the job description! The sailors blamed him for the storm and threw him overboard. Then he came face to face with the whale which coughed him unto dry land and into the Lord's service.

  I was fortunate to arrive at the door of St Peter's Church just as a Franciscan monk opened it during its normal closing time. He invited me in. The church, built on a prominent hill in the city, commemorates Peter's raising of Tabitha from the dead, and also the vision in which God revealed to him that he must preach, not only to the Jews but to the Gentiles. After that, Peter journeyed to the house of Cornelius in Caesarea, ate with them, preached the Gospel, saw the Spirit come down on his listeners, and then baptised the household. Peter had to justify his policy at the Council in Jerusalem.

  I was also delighted, after some persistence to find the House of Simon the Tanner, where Peter 'stayed for many days' while in Jaffa. I just managed literally, to 'get my foot in the door.'

  Now I had to chose between a relaxing hour of sitting on the Mediterranean beach, or a second swim a mile up the coast. I chose the swim and relaxed afterwards watching the sun set over the sea. In the morning, as the same sun would rise in the East, I would be flying overhead, westwards towards home.

  I got back just in time to the Casa Nova for the evening meal. I had intended to have a quiet night but three American ladies, on their first few hours in the city, were keen to see some of the sights. An American, two Italians and I took them on an hour's walk. It should have been another opportunity for more Italian lessons but Father Guido kept practising his English on me! After the sightseeing, it was time for, 'So long' and 'Arrivederci' and to bed at 10.15pm.