The nuns are busy, preparing for a Day of Recollection organized by the Friends of Holy Trinity Monastery, so they are allowing me to speak to you for the first, and probably last, time.

I am Duncan (short for Dunk'n Disorderly), the monastery dog. It's not too bad, being the only man about the place. I'm very quiet and well-mannered and I quite like joining them at prayer-times, only their singing sometimes gets on my nerves and I hide behind the lectern while they get on with things. They don't allow me in for Mass, which must be very special and wonderful, but I have plans to sneak in one day and surprise them.

I get taken for walks on the Downs, which are lovely; and I get two meals a day and a reasonable number of tummy tickles. I like that they get up early because it means I get an extra three hours in bed with nothing to disturb me. I think my basket is softer than theirs, but I haven't tried any of theirs out yet.

On the whole, I think monastic life is perfect for a dog. I am very happy, and when I want to show it I race around with my ears flapping like Snoopy's. I suppose my ears are a bit like their veils, which also flap when they run. They are very keen on God, which, as I often tell them, is dog spelled backwards. They have a lot to learn but I am doing my best to teach them.

'Bye for now, Duncan xxx.