I get to worship in the little chapel where Michael Ramsey prayed, or in the big one where Cosin and Lightfoot are buried. I preach to unemployed miners (or, more likely, their widows) one day and university students the next. I have the huge privilege of being part of Durham Cathedral, one of the greatest buildings in the world, where Cuthbert is buried one end and Bede the other. I have the joy of being present for, and having a hand in, new Christians (baptism and confirmation), new ministries (licensing of clergy from parish to parish) and new vocations (working with ordinands and then ordaining them), so unlike a regular parish priest a good deal of what I do is 'special', and I'm conscious of that as a great privilege. I have a wonderful team of colleagues both locally and nationally. I belong to, and sometimes speak in, the House of Lords, the senior house of the 'mother of parliaments'. I have published books and articles on a wide range of subjects and I still enjoy writing as much as I ever did. I don't play enough golf but when I do I only have to hit three or four good shots in a round to come home happy (we all need something where we can enjoy doing badly).

Best of all, I have a beautiful, intelligent, feisty, gorgeous wife who keeps me well up to the mark; and four children who are the treasure of my life; and two grandchildren who are small but awesome. And -- remarkably considering I'm only 18 months off turning 60 -- two parents who are in good health.

So am I 'satisfied'? Of course I am; I'm not grumbling; many people would cheerfully change places with me. But OF COURSE I'M NOT, not at all. I would love to be able to pray for longer and with more depth. I would love to know the Bible much, much better. I would love to be a wiser pastor. I would love to be more holy -- at least, I think I would, I hope I'm not just saying that, because part of me means it badly and part of me is scared at the thought and the possible cost. I would love to be able to bring healing and hope to so many people with whom I come into contact and for whom I can often, so it seems, do really rather little (though one never knows, in God's strange economy). I would love to have finished my series of 'The New Testament for Everyone' -- just finished Acts, and still got James/Peter/Jude/John letters to go, and then Revelation. I would love to have written my big book on Paul, still in the planning stage after many years. I would love to have time -- or the relevant help -- to stay more on top of the mountains of paperwork which flood in every day and which my office simply can't cope with. I would love to be able to bring reconciliation to warring factions in the church, without compromising the truth of the gospel and the truths which flow directly from it.

So, no, I'm not satisfied. But I am very, very grateful to God for a million great blessings and to many, many friends for wonderful support and encouragement. Anyway, who needs satisfaction? Oscar Wilde described a cigarette as 'the perfect type of perfect pleasure -- it is exquisite, but leaves you unsatisfied'. Whatever else Wilde knew, he knew that satisfaction and happiness are not the same thing.