Historian Glyn Harris readily admits that his schooldays were not the happiest times of his life, mainly due to the "fire and brimstone" lessons at the Roman Catholic Church in Abergavenny.

It was 1946, World War 11 was over and times were hard. Glyn, also an accomplished artist and author, was just five and he found the strict teaching by teachers, nuns and priests so hard to accept that his non-attendance record at church was the worst in the whole school.

But one day as he was approaching the Convent he heard the beautiful, lilting voice of an Irish woman. It sounded bright and uplifting, he recalls.

The voice, it turned out, belonged to Sister Mary Teresa, a nursing nun who visited the sick and elderly. From that moment on, she had such a profound effect on Glyn's life that for the first time he "found the God I had been yearning for."

Glyn tells me from his home in Llanddewi Rhydderch:"In my first encounter with her she wanted to know all about me and the fact that I lived in Abergavenny's slums made no difference.

"She treated me with care and respect, wishing my family well and ending with God loves you and is with you always'. No snobbery and no religious lectures, yet Holiness shone from her like a torch in the dark."

Unusually, she began visiting the sick on a moped and later on, by scooter.

Many years later, when Glyn was in his 40s, he was working at the home of an elderly lady who had a visit from Sister Mary Teresa. It was a delight for Glyn to see her again.

"Right on time, the elderly nun arrived and gave me a joyous greeting, and disappeared to a private room to treat her patient," says Glyn. "Within ten minutes, the two aged women were laughing hysterically like a couple of schoolgirls."