It was a strange feeling going into a church I did not know for a service that I did not really believe in, but once inside I couldn't help a feeling of warmth and security. Outside there were wars and road accidents and murders, striptease clubs and battered babies and frayed tempers and unhappy marriages and people contemplating suicide and bad jokes, but once in St. Martin's there was peace. Surely people go to church not to involve themselves in the world's problems but to escape from them.

I am not a great cook, I am not a great artist, but I love art, and I love food, so I am the perfect traveller.

I am very cautious of people who are absolutely right, especially when they are vehemently so.

When in doubt, resort to animation.

I mistrust total competence. I've always felt life is a series of small disasters we try to get through.

As I work in the afternoon on committing to paper some of my morning's thoughts, I find myself just about to close on the knotty question of whether or not I believe in God. In fact I am about to type, 'I do not believe in God', when the sky goes black as ink, there is a thunderclap and a huge crash of thunder and a downpour of epic proportions. I never do complete the sentence.

The trouble with travelling back later on is that you can never repeat the same experience.