I will never go into a pyramid again " I promise. I assiduously avoided drinking anything approximating the local water, but it seems that I and the rest of the crew have still suffered a solid bout of the "Curse of the Pharaohs'"

That said, the last eight days have been remarkable, one might say miraculous, in their provision.

For weeks before this shoot I've had the weather conditions in the United Kingdom permanently fixed on the desktop of my laptop. It's always been a big concern going this time of year with Britain's penchant for rainy, blustery days. The digital predictions were no comfort either: 8 degrees, 9 degrees, 7 degrees and wet, wet, wet.

Long before we confronted the weather, however, we had to deal with an even more disturbing development. Upon arrival in London we counted off our seven pieces of filming equipment only to discover that the seventh had turned into a rather stylish faux leather back-pack. I had been wondering why they hadn't charged us so heavily for overweight baggage on that leg of the journey; now I knew. You just had to be satisfied with a "lucky dip' on every seventh bag. Sadly, that missing piece of luggage contained our tripod, our lighting gear and most of the camera's batteries.

Still, when we arrived in Oxford we received our first answer to prayer. The weather, much to the amazement of the locals, was clear blue skies.  Which was very welcome since the first few days were outdoors and Oxford's sandstone is best viewed dry. I am an unashamed admirer of this university city. It represents a brilliant combination of history, learning and tradition " Disneyland for dorks, really. But as I wandered the streets I couldn't help but imagine what it would have been like to study here " and then tell everyone about it after, of course. But who am I kidding? I'm sure the rugby players who made me feel so inadequate in Bathurst would have managed to do the same here, just with better accents.

The Oxford we captured on tape included a fair selection of fascinating professors speaking from the grounds of old English manors straight from BBC sets. From there we headed to Scotland and miracle number two. I say miracle, because it involved British bureaucracy, the civilisation that invented the queue. A last-minute change of plan saw us arrive at the ruins of an ancient cathedral in the golfing city of St Andrews. I had all of five minutes to organise a film permit that would normally take weeks. Four of those minutes were spent waiting for the curator to come back from lunch. But the jovial Alison that confronted me at the door seemed to decide that I would be her good deed for the day. She rang London's office of antiquities directly, berating recalcitrant officials with the dictum "It's no like the light will last forever, aye!' Seconds later I was standing on the sodden turf thanking God for this Gaelic angel.

The interviews were as successful as those in Oxford, despite the lack of camera gear. And the cold weather was ameliorated by the discovery of the most incredible cheese shop staffed by a Texan dame. Rumours of our missing luggage continued to filter through to us like news of the war. Reconnaissance suggested it had made it to Dubai " a search-and-rescue party had managed to get it on a flight to London " it was being billeted in Oxford " and expected to enjoy some well-earned R&R in St Andrews " three hours after we had departed. The telephone lines ran hot at that point. We stayed behind at the risk of missing our flight and were rewarded with the recalcitrant bag turning up at the last possible minute.

Now we were in a race against time to get to Edinburgh airport, but traffic congestion was making our recent victory recede further and further into the distance. Enter miracle number three. My stomach threatening to rebel at every turn as sound-recordist Andy threw our VW around a series of tight corners, I rang British Airways for assistance. They could do nothing " officially. But the lady at reception called some contacts at the airport and hey presto, our non-refundable tickets were transferred to a new flight. London here we come!

My sojourn in the nation's capital began with an early morning shoot in the British Museum and a nasty accident. The Pharaoh's Curse had ensure that we were down two crew members, so that three of us were suddenly charged with carrying all of the gear on a morning the weather rivalled arctic conditions. It didn't help much that our taxi driver circled the museum twice and then eventually dropped us a block from the entrance. So you can guess I was wondering what our Father had in mind when ten minutes into the shoot I pulled a muscle in my back and all but collapsed to the floor. We managed to make it through the next three hours and then I spent the rest of the day and that night trying to lie very still and wondering what the rest of the trip would hold.

Now lots of other things happened in London while we were working there over the next three days, but I shared this event because I'm beginning to see a pattern developing. We've had some big battles so far during our little shoot, some I've been able to share and others I haven't, but it seems that we've emerged from each altercation with bruises but no major damage. In fact, on several occasions so far, what appeared as a setback turned out to our advantage. For example, we arrived at a flight connection without boarding passes at one stage and the airline's eventual solution was to upgrade us to business class. We've struggled to make deadlines because of weather and transport issues, only to find that the interviews we were going to keep waiting were themselves delayed. So far, God has taken us through the narrows on a number of occasions, but the job has emerged unscathed, even polished by the experience. That's what I think is really at work here. God is guarding and guiding us all the way but, more than that, He is using this trip to shape us.

Is it any surprise that my Bible studies have been focusing on the first chapter of James this week?

Well, my back is a lot better now and we're heading to Ireland.

See you in a pub at Dublin"