Lying awake, I tried to do what I had read in my Carthusian book.

At the beginning of the fifth century, a privileged place begun to be given to the invocation of the Lord Jesus and his name. For a long time the form of prayer to Jesus was not fixed, but from the seventh or eighth century (the time of Hesychius of Sinai), the consolation began to take a fixed form, or a number of forms, that always centred on the name of Jesus (or, better, ‘Jesus’ by itself was the shortcut form and ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me (or us), a saviour’ the most frequent form of the invocation). In addition, this invocation is coordinated in several ways with the breath; first in the sense that the resemblance of Jesus ought to be as constant as the moment of the breath.

I tried the technique and within moments my concentration failed and the world returns. How wonderful it would be, but how difficult to sustain such things out in the world. But then I suspect that even in the peace of the Carthusian’s cell, the lonely Monk may also lose his concentration as he moulds his pottery.

Today is our twenty-sixth wedding anniversary. We are alone now in Lincolnshire with all six children scattered around at home or abroad. I have made many mistakes and achieved little of value, but the best thing I ever did was to marry Mary.