Where would you go? 

To Skellig Michael. I went there in 1989 after my mother died and I had become rather agitated about my Irish identity because I had parked it with my mother. We started having holidays in the Gaeltacht; that year I got a boat to Skellig Michael and went to the monastery at the top. It’s extraordinary. I was very moved and intrigued by it … it’s bleak and beautiful. I had to rush away because the boat man came up and said, if you want to get off the island, you have to go now … there’s a force nine gale coming. We were indeed blown back on a force nine gale … it was terrifying but an incredibly memorable event. I would like to see the monastery again in the right circumstances. It has all the rawness of Irish Catholicism but romantic with it. It’s also visited by Star Wars fans nowadays, but I would go in a Christian spirit. 

Where would you stop on the way? 

Dublin. Which I think in the centre is one of the most beautiful cities. 

Who would be your travelling companions? 

Herbert McCabe certainly [the Dominican theologian who died in 2001]. He would be useful when we got to the pubs. He was the most interesting anglophone theologian in the last century. He’s the only man I often got drunk with but never quarrelled with. And if we’re travelling, I would like David Attenborough; he’s very secular but a wonderful raconteur and would identify all the wildlife for us. 

You can transplant your favourite pub, bar or restaurant onto the route. What is it? 

There is no shortage of good pubs on the west coat of Ireland. O’Connor’s of Doolin certainly. I once took my daughter Hester on a trip around Ireland; we stopped in Doolin and I went to O’Connor’s. It’s the most famous musical pub in Co Clare; the singing and music went on very late. At midnight, the landlord put the shutters up. Was the pub closing? I asked. “No”, he said, “It’s not, but the garda (police) barracks is just across the street and if we keep the light on, they get embarrassed.” Skellig Rock Bar in Cahirciveen is another contender. Back in the day, it used to be run by a formidable lady called Mrs Denehy. If things weren’t going well, she would tap one of the locals on the shoulder and they had to perform. They didn’t mind the children being with us either. 

Camp under the stars or find a church hall to sleep in? 

Definitely indoors. The west coast of Ireland is not a place to camp out in; I would like somewhere with a flush loo and warmth. 

Which books would you take with you? 

I would take two books: The Pickwick Papers because it is a book about journeyings and is funny wherever you dip into it. Once I fell out of bed laughing at a passage I was reading. I’d also like the poems of Edward Thomas … he makes you look at the world around you in a different way; on pilgrimage, it would be a centering sort of thing to take. I’ve been reading him a lot lately. 

What Bible verse would you ponder as you walked? 

It would be the Beatitudes, both in St Matthew’s version and the starker version in Luke 6; they really put the difficult side of Christianity very starkly. Do we really want the Ukrainians to turn the other cheek, for instance? They show the unlivability of Christianity and they have the power to challenge you. Pope Francis has said every Christian should know the Beatitudes by heart. Living with St Luke’s extreme version would be a good spiritual exercise. 

You stop in a church. What’s your go-to prayer? 

If it’s in English, it would be the third collect for the Anglican service of evensong: “Lighten our darkness we beseech thee, O Lord, and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night …” I think that is the most beautiful prayer in the English language, Cranmer at his best. If it’s Latin, the Veni Sancti Spiritus. The English goes: “…Cleanse whatever is defiled in us; Moisten whatever has dried up in us; Heal whatever has been wounded in us.”  

It’s your turn to cook. What’s your speciality? 

What about a spaghetti carbonara? You can carry nearly all the ingredients in a rucksack. As for eggs, we could steal them from someone’s hen-house. 

What’s the singalong to keep everyone’s spirits up? 

It’s not a very rousing song: “Linden Lea”. But it’s appropriate to a pilgrimage because it’s about coming home. William Barnes’s words and Vaughan Williams’s music make it the most beautiful song in the English language. Each verse ends, “…the apple tree

Do lean down low in Linden Lea”. It’s wonderful. The tune is sublime. 

You’re allowed one luxury in your bag; what is it? 

A limitless supply of clean cotton socks. 

What would you most miss about ordinary life? 

My daily morning hot shower. 

What would you miss least? 

The television news. It is all so depressing. 

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