When we got married, I was still working in accountancy. I was not happy in this work. I was willing to try and carry on but there was no joy in it.
Many years before, my friend Lalage had suggested that perhaps I should think of being a teacher. It seemed a nice thought, but I could not see myself studying again or going to University.
The office I was working in was close to home in Surbiton, but it was truly awful. As I worked, all I could sense was anger as all the staff seemed dispirited, working only for their wage packet in a dark, soul-less way. This situation was exacerbated by the management’s bad, uncaring attitude towards the young employees, most of whom were foreigners.
I felt frustrated and trapped by this painful situation and we started praying earnestly about it.
I had heard about the wonderful Evangelist Katheryn Kuhlman, who was preaching and having healing ministries all over America. I had read many of the books written by her and felt a close affinity to this ‘enigmatic’ lady who drew thousands towards Christ. I simply could not understand why the Church was not taking Christ literally and, at that time, one rarely heard of miracles except those associated with the Saints and Lourdes.
I wrote to her and asked her to pray for us. I do not think I told her any of the details but just told her I was having a difficult time.
A week or two passed and things at work got worse. I felt it important to make a formal complaint to the London office and was rewarded by being fired over a trivial event in the office. I was now out of a job.
On hearing this, Stuart, one of the members of our prayer group, asked if I would like to take his place at the school he was teaching at since he was leaving soon. I was intrigued, since Lalage’s suggestion had always stayed at the back of my mind.
At that time, it was possible to teach at prep schools without much difficulty as long as one was well educated and had a sound knowledge of the subjects they were meant to teach.
On a freezing, cold February night, I went to bed with these thoughts and concerns still on my mind, still undecided about what I should do. Was I being reckless thinking about a career change in my late 30’s, throwing away years of study and experience in accountancy? On top of that worry, I had a really bad back-ache and was in acute pain.
I eventually fell asleep and dreamed that I was walking along the beach in St. Julians, Malta, and could smell the fishing bait used in Mediterranean countries. It was night but there was a brightness to the sky and the waves, though high, had a stillness to them. I suddenly realized I was walking between the waves in a straight path towards the far end of the beach. Alongside the unseen me, I saw footprints in the water as though someone was walking beside me. I walked along this opening and could distinctly hear the words “You have walked the waters”. It was as though Christ were at the far end beckoning to me.
Immediately there followed another dream with young men in tight black leather on motorcycles who looked ominous. A voice seemed to be saying “Phone Paul”.
I woke up with a start and sat up suddenly realizing that my backache had disappeared. I was ravenously hungry and said to a surprised Ursula, “I need to eat.” This was about 3am in the middle of the night. Despite there being no heating on this freezing February night, the room was so hot it literally felt like an oven. We got up and opened a window to cool it down. Then we heard what sounded like footsteps running up and down the stairs to the front door - as though all the demons were fleeing from the house. We praised God and sat back to enjoy the peace that had come over us. I was so hungry, I then raided the kitchen and found something good to eat. Praise God, what a great night that was!
I knew exactly what the dream was saying. The next day I contacted Stuart. The school he had been teaching at was an Anglican prep school which was run by Rev Mr. Hill, a very committed Anglican clergyman. I went for an interview and Mr. Hill asked me to give a lesson about the Renaissance. I am afraid I went slightly overboard and sounded like a lecturer, but he was not too put off. I got the job and taught English, History and Maths.
Nearly six months later, I received a letter, from Kathryn Kulhmann. The postmark showed that it had been posted in February and had obviously been delayed somehow in the post. The letter read:
“The great victory of faith is to stand before some impassable Red Sea and hear the Master say ‘Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord’, and Go Forward!
Step out in faith, wet your feet in the waters and you will see them divide before your very eyes and as a result of your active faith, the path will open in the midst of the sea and the answer to your prayer will come - God will not disappoint you or fail your trust.
Please! know that we are joining you in prayer across the miles, looking for the ‘parting of the water’ and the manifestation of the power of God in answering your heart cry.”
The Lord in His infinite wisdom had delayed the arrival of the letter to strengthen my faith. Had I received it when it was sent, I may have been tempted to think it influenced my dream.

Very soon after being healed and deciding to move out of accountancy, I was given the opportunity to try my long-held dream of being a teacher. It was through Stuart, who had become a Catholic, that the offer came about. After his conversion, he decided to join the monks in Fort Augustus in Scotland. His health remained a problem, yet he managed to stay on and was eventually transferred to Ampleforth Benedictine Abbey in Yorkshire. Stuart had been teaching at a private Primary School in Strawberry Hill, Twickenham, run by an Anglican Pastor named Mr. Hill. Now thoroughly disenchanted by accountancy and the senior members of the company I worked for, I went for an interview with Mr. Hill and was accepted as a teacher of English, History, and mathematics. These were an enjoyable few years when I gained a reputation for being disciplined and capable of maintaining order and achieving good results. The boys were polite and keen to learn so there were few, if any, problems.
One fine day a School Inspector turned up and seemed to be pleased with what I was doing. He said he was amazed that I had no teaching qualification. He advised me that, although the government at that time allowed non-qualified teachers to teach in privately run schools, it may be useful to qualify because, as he said, “The law may change in the future”.
This very much set me thinking and a very dear friend of mine, called Karl Grigg, helped me to apply to Strawberry Hill, St. Mary’s Teacher Training College which is a College of London University. I was accepted at the age of 37. Both Mr. Hill and Karl have since passed away. Karl and his wife Joanna had suggested we join the 3rd Order of St. Francis and Ursula, and I were accepted into the order a year later. During the ceremony, I held Francis, my son, in my right arm. I spent three wonderful years and worked hard at Mathematics, English, and Religion. In my final year, I concentrated on Religion as my main subject.
Teaching Practice went well in all years, especially the third when the unexpected happened. I had a group of 16-year-olds dressed in the modern ‘bover boys’ leather gear who were not showing too much interest in religion, and they needed a great deal of coaxing. I was told this was the last time I was to be monitored and was to expect two inspectors to turn up for the lesson. During the time I had spent with the class, I noticed one young man who was extremely polite, who listened and was the only non-Catholic in the class. I spent some time praying and eventually picked up courage to ask him if he would like to talk about the drug problem and what was being done to heal this sickness. I based this on what Jesus suggested we do about healing, helping, and feeding our less lucky neighbours. Without a pause, the young man said he would be happy to do this. I was concerned and asked him if this would put too much pressure on him, but he assured me he was not at all worried.
On the day of my final teacher training practice, three supervisors turned up including my Religious Education lecturer and a teacher at Richard Challoner school where I was teaching. I walked into the classroom and asked the boys to treat their peer with respect and to listen and ask questions. I referred to the words of Jesus about healing the sick, feeding the hungry etc. This young man got up and talked brilliantly about the problems of addiction and what was being done to help by religious organizations and the present day thinking about causes. I was flabbergasted by his knowledge as were the rest of the class who asked numerous questions. The supervisors came up to me and congratulated me and assured me that I would get the highest grading possible. I said I had very little to do with it, the student was brilliant, and the Lord had answered my prayers.
When I saw this young man later on, I congratulated him and asked how he knew so much about drug addiction and the help given to these unfortunate people. He looked at me straight in the eyes and said he thought I knew. “Know what?” I asked. “That my father is an Anglican Pastor and runs a drug addiction Centre in Kingston called ‘Kaleidoscope’”. The truth is, I didn’t, I had only been teaching there for 10 days. Praise God and thank Him for answering prayers.

It was through Stuart, who had become a Catholic, that the offer came about. After his conversion, he decided to join the monks in Fort Augustus in Scotland. His health remained a problem, yet he managed to stay on and was eventually transferred to Ampleforth Benedictine Abbey in Yorkshire. Stuart had been teaching at a private Primary School in Strawberry Hill, Twickenham, run by an Anglican Pastor named Mr. Hill. Now thoroughly disenchanted by accountancy and the senior members of the company I worked for, I went for an interview with Mr. Hill and was accepted as a teacher of English, History, and mathematics. These were an enjoyable few years when I gained a reputation for being disciplined and capable of maintaining order and achieving good results. The boys were polite and keen to learn so there were few, if any, problems.
One fine day a School Inspector turned up and seemed to be pleased with what I was doing. He said he was amazed that I had no teaching qualification. He advised me that, although the government at that time allowed non-qualified teachers to teach in privately run schools, it may be useful to qualify because, as he said, “The law may change in the future”.
This very much set me thinking and a very dear friend of mine, called Karl Grigg, helped me to apply to Strawberry Hill, St. Mary’s Teacher Training College which is a College of London University. I was accepted at the age of 37. Both Mr. Hill and Karl have since passed away. Karl and his wife Joanna had suggested we join the 3rd Order of St. Francis and Ursula, and I were accepted into the order a year later. During the ceremony, I held Francis, my son, in my right arm. I spent three wonderful years and worked hard at Mathematics, English and Religion. In my final year, I concentrated on Religion as my main subject.