JONATHAN Aitken's recall was instant. As I turned away after introducing myself as being from the D&S Times, he called me back and asked: "Does the paper still have cattle prices on the front page?"

It seems he was an avid reader as a parliamentary hopeful in the former Thirsk and Malton constituency in the Sixties.

His recall was equally impressive when it came to recounting a journey of faith which took him "From Power to Prison to Peace".

This was the title of a lecture he delivered to a packed Kirklington church.

Such was the interest in the visit by the former Cabinet minister who was jailed for perjury, that for the first time the venue for the talk had to be changed to accommodate all those who wanted to hear him.

Mr Aitken's lecture was the last in a Lenten series run by the local church.

Having started in 1995, the Food for Thought talks have become so popular they are now an annual feature of the North Yorkshire parish.

Usually, there is a meal in the village hall, followed by the talk. This time, though, all 110 meal tickets were sold out and a further 90 snapped up for the talk section in the church itself.

It was standing room only.

Speakers at the Lent lectures have to be committed Christians and at the top of their chosen professions.

Mr Aitken certainly qualified on both counts, at one time serving as a Treasury minister.

His fall from grace came after he vowed to fight to protect his reputation after reports of links with wealthy Saudi businessman. He was found guilty of perjury and perverting the course of justice.

Mr Aitken chose to start in the middle of his story - June 8, 1999 - when he was in the dock of the Old Bailey having admitted perjury. He was jailed for 18 months.

"The phrase 'Take him down' struck a chill in my heart," he said. "I was being transformed from a law-abiding citizen to a convicted criminal and it was scary. I blew a kiss to my family as they led me away."

He was taken to a communal holding cell where "business was brisk".

But he felt the sentence was fair and he was eventually taken to Belmarsh Prison.

Mr Aitken's seamless ability to extract humour from the most dire situations surfaced as he said: "This used to be one of the less well-known jails but since it has held the likes of Ronnie Biggs, Jeffrey Archer and myself, its profile has gone up! But this was a tough nick."

More humour came as he explained that during induction, he was taken to the prison psychiatrist to check for a suicide risk.

Hundreds of reporters and cameramen had been outside the jail as he was brought in.

"The psychiatrist asked me 'Does anyone other than your next of kin know you are in prison?' I said 'Yes, about ten to 15 million people by now.' His eyes narrowed and he asked if I suffered from delusions."

He was relieved to be given a cell to himself and prepared to sleep. No chance. The inmates on the cell block tagged "Beirut" had been following his arrival and they started to chant.

"I was really scared," said Mr Aitken. "I had been warned it might be hard but nothing prepared me for the viciousness of that chanting."

He knelt down on the concrete floor and said a prayer.

"I asked myself 'How had I got into such a mess?' I had a royal flush of crises such as divorce, disgrace and prison and the answer was 'pride'.

"It is a great roadblock to a better or deeper relationship with God."

He likened his relationship with God as rather like the one he had with his bank manager.

"I thought I was in charge of the account and that I called the shots. I was a bit like a Sunday Christian."

In the dark days leading up to his court appearance, a group of people became very important and supportive in his life. He was going on a real spiritual journey.

"But my conversion was a road full of stumbles, sins and mistakes. It was not a flash of blinding light," he said. "By the time I went to prison, I knew something had changed.

"So that night in my cell, in a moment of great terror, I was able to kneel and pray."

His immediate neighbours - who had been very vocal in the chant - turned out to be rather friendly.

And once in the prison community, he was amazed at how young most inmates were.

"I felt like Methuslah," said Mr Aitken. "But beneath the bravado, many of these young men were quite vulnerable people, especially in literacy."

The former Tory minister quickly became known as 'the MP geezer who can do joined-up writing'. Queues started to form outside his cell door as more people sought his skills to handle their letters.

Then, through a friendship with an Irish burglar called Paddy, an unusual prayer group was formed and this group started to show the fruits of repentance. They stopped swearing, threw away their porn mags and rebuilt links with their families.

"I could see the changes taking place," said Mr Aitken. "Paddy became the centre of the group and he was transformed and wanted his new baby to be baptised in the prison chapel.

"I will remember that service for as long as I live and was honoured to be asked to be godfather.

"There is nothing new about such journeys of change. What was new was to see it with real people in the twenty-first century in a real life situation such as a prison."

He posed the question of what was the connection.

"Both groups have people who know there is something wrong with their lives and both groups have a remarkable resistance to change.

"Yet it is one of the most exciting and rewarding and momentous journeys one can make with three great rewards - mercy, peace and grace."

Mr Aitken's talk ended with a prayer after he requested no applause.

Taking questions, he was asked how he saw the future.

"I don't know where I am going from here," he said. "I am a full-time author; work in Christian ministry and prison ministry all over the world as this is a cause close to my heart. I recently re-married. My life is full and busy and I have no plans."

Asked if he would have taken different decisions during his political career, he said: "My political life was full of mistakes. I would have changed some priorities in a subtle way when I was at the Treasury. I would channel more resources to rehabilitation and prison literacy.

"Some of my attitudes on spending have changed - I would give a greater share of the cake to those who need compassion the most."

One person wanted to know if he had suffered prison violence.

"Just once," said Mr Aitken. "A young man wanted to go the funeral of a relative and permission was refused. I said I was sorry to hear that and he hit me. It turned out he had read in a Sunday paper that I had been to the funeral of William Whitelaw, hobnobbing with well-known people. It wasn't even true.

"But all the time I felt I was protected by an invisible wall of prayer."

Those in the audience respected Mr Aitken's request for no applause. But new priest-in-charge Julie Nelson found a neat way round that.

After thanking the speaker for 'sharing his story with parishioners' she said thanks must be due to those had done the catering for the evening.

The enthusiastic hand-clapping must have given Jonathan Aitken some food for thought ..