It’s now Wednesday, late afternoon, and Dot is out visiting Hickling school for a SIAMS inspection. I have started writing my sermon for Sunday. Dot had a touch of diarrhoea at lunchtime: hope she didn’t catch it from me. Mike Read came round unexpectedly this afternoon to bring me a copy of his new book of chess games. Told me a bit of his life story involving a gunman, an insurance company and several nervous breakdowns.

So the Holy Land pilgrimage is over, with only a slight uneasiness in my stomach to bring it back to life. Oh, and the photographs. And this blog. And possibly a piece on my website. And…

We set our alarm for an unearthly hour on Monday 24th, got out of bed shortly after 4am and got a taxi up to the Cathedral for 5.30. I knew it would be too early – we waited at least 20 minutes in the rain and cold and wind before it turned up, being joined at intervals by our fellow-travellers.

Eventually it arrived, and the trip to Luton Airport was quite quick and uneventful., as was the passage through the various levels of purgatory to the Departure Lounge. Had a coffee with Anne and James Whittet, who we know, and met a couple of other people.

The Easyjet was late leaving, of course, but made up time a bit and we reached Tel Aviv in early evening, meeting our tour guide Hanna (Israeli for John) and got in the bus. I might as well get it out of the way quickly and say our driver was totally brilliant, especially in the narrow streets and tiny parking places we came to love, or at least know.

We drove to Tiberias – quite a long trip, reaching our hotel too late for supper but in time to eat the “cold plate” they had placed in our room. Quite nice, actually, and the hotel was pleasant enough. Not that we were there much: the next day we had a 6.30am call and made an extremely early start. Our bedroom overlooked the bus station, which was interesting, and when the mist cleared later in the day we could see Lake Galilee.

The weather was quite pleasant, and we drove to the Mount of the Beatitudes, where we had some liturgy and I lost the bus. Not a good start. However, I found it again without too much embarrassment, and we drove north to Caesarea Philippi, which may have been my favourite stop. We were on the edge of the Golan Heights, not far from both Lebanon and Syria – we could see them both – with Mount Herman in the distance. The scenery was stunning and the buildings were in ruins, as they should all be. It was the source of the Jordan, the site of the cave of Pan, entrance to the underworld, and the place where Peter told Jesus that he was the Messiah.

More liturgy, and we headed south again, along a road which was apparently undergirded by mines in case of an invasion. I just hope they could tell the difference between an invasion and a tour bus. We reached the Church of Multiplication, near where Jesus fed the five thousand (Vermehrungskirche). To be continued…