In Tintagel, Cornwall, on a bluff overlooking the sea is a little 12th century church. One day everything was wrong and I was feeling irritable. My friend Julie and I were walking back along Glebe Cliff and as we approached the church, we decided to go in instead of just walking past it like we always did. The front door was unlocked, as all church doors in England seem to be. Inside, it was empty and quiet and old. We explored, looking at the list of vicars since 1259 and the "Roman Stone" relic dating back to the 4th century. I put 20p into a little donation box and lit a candle for peace and for everything to turn out all right.
I don't think anyone else from our group ever went into that church, so it is one of the few places in England I think of as truly mine. As we walked home, it started to get windy and stormy, but I felt all right, and I like to think that little candle is still lighting my way.
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