This is complete waffle. Waite tries to play the bumbling Englishman abroad, but that's been done so much better by inumerable others (Palin, Bryson - ok, an honourary one anyway). The jokes aren't funny, and are invariably laboured and anticlimatic. Neither is there any real insight into the life of the Archbish or the workings of the C of E (even if that kind of thing floats your boat). A few years ago, I attended a public talk by the author on his terrible hostage ordeal in Lebanon; he came across as eloquent, erudite and witty. What a disappointment then, that these memoirs are easily my top contender for the dullest book ever written. Avoid this book (or preferably use its pages to dab up that drying paint on the fence you've been meaning to redo for ages - it'll provide more entertainment)