Its dark and cold outside, I am 18 years old, at home, waiting for my father to give my girlfriend a lift home. He will, but  insists, not until he has watched a BBC documentary which is about to start. It concerns an obscure village in Spain, one called Garabandal. My mum is also there, sat by the fire quietly knitting yet another jumper. My girlfriend is keen to go, in fact very keen, never really at ease in the home of a catholic family; she is most irritated not least at having to sit through a programme with an overtly Roman Catholic theme! So it was, that I, in this prickly atmosphere, at this one most significant moment in my life, unsuspectingly approached and stepped on to, what would become a ‘Road to Emmaus.’

And so it was that I listened with increasing attentiveness to the revelation of a living, ever  present God through the words of a humble and beautiful woman; Conchita Keena…