ONE of the happiest things about St Antony's Priory, that is to say its still small voice of calm, may also have been the thinking behind the "Quiet Zone" coach on the train from Darlington to Durham last Friday evening.

The quiet zone, alas, overflowed with boisterously returning students, with their out-of-body rucksacks and with their myriad mobiles, murmuring perpetual motion. Soon they would be home, rejoicing, and inquiring as Rupert Brooke did if there was honey still for tea.

Durham decanted similarly, southerly.

By 6pm all seemed pretty peaceful, the calm before the Friday night storm.

St Antony's is but a three-minute walk from the Market Place, but could be a million miles away. Halfway up Claypath, behind the Age Bar and Kitchen, its garden offers quite splendid views across the river towards castle and cathedral.

Once it was St Nicholas's vicarage, last occupied in that capacity by George Carey, who became Archbishop of Canterbury but could have found Lambeth Palace scarcely less commodious, or more agreeable.

Now it is a house of the Society of the Sacred Mission, originally a "pre-theological" training base for would-be priests without formal qualifications, now - ministry but not necessarily ordained ministry - an Ecumenical Spirituality Centre - more of which later.

To the old vicarage has been added an extraordinary, octagonal, amphitheatrical, architectural award-winning chapel, with a stone altar in the centre of the floor and an engraved glass door designed by the Rev Toddy Hoare, Vicar of the Hillside Parishes near Thirsk.

The world intrudes; once the door was plain glass. The bold design, says one of the guides, was to prevent the society's being sued by someone who walked slap bang into it.

The world, in truth, almost intruded still further. The priory established, someone not only proposed building a hotel and night club out the back but was given planning permission by the city council.

Finally the plan was dropped, the intervention possibly divine, the folk at St Antony's either reflecting or lost for words.

Now worldwide, the Society was formed in London in 1893 by Fr Herbert Kelly, described in one of its histories as an "eccentric genius", whose bust stands outside the chapel.

Fr Edmund Wheat, another SSM priest, has recently retired from Brambles Farm, Middlesbrough, but continues, unpaid, to look after St John's in South Bank. Previously, the Society had someone in Sheffield. Middlesbrough, says another history, was a much more dangerous place.

It takes itself seriously, of course, but not always solemnly. "Dark night of the soul, " wrote Fr Kelly's brother Alfred in his November 1906 diary. "Ran out of tabak, battery of torch perished. (Also tennis has practically ceased. )" Fr Herbert himself proclaimed that the Society's purpose was to do the will of God and was inevitably asked how they knew what the will of God might be.

"You don't, " he said, "that's the giddy joke."

The priory now offers spiritual direction, courses, quiet days and services to those of all denominations, and of none.

It also offers a warm welcome, a cook who is said to be quite wonderful and the occasional, ever-amiable presence of Fr Peter Davis, who readers of this column have encountered once or twice before.

An Australian, he is Vicar of Tow Law, of Satley and of Stanley Hill Top and hopes with others to establish an SSM hermitage in Weardale. Paul Golightly, a Methodist minister and part time staff member at the priory, says Peter's a great bloke to have around.

"He's full of ideas, always wants to move situations on. Some of them are ideas that flow away on the wind, others last a little longer."

Fr Peter led Friday's service with Therese Pratt, a pastoral theologian and psychotherapist, whose Christian name has accents at all angles but may have to forgive the anglicised version. It was, said Paul Golightly, "at the far end of experiment".

Billed as "Celtic", it became CelticAustralian under Fr Peter's influence.

There was even a piece of music which began like something from Rolf Harris; aboriginal sin. About 15 were present, including a chap who'd beaten a retreat from London to the quiet cottage in the priory grounds.

The 30-minute service artfully embraced the elements - earth, fire, wind and water - reminding us of man's deadly threats to the natural world. The best bits, no offence, were when no one said anything at all.

From outside you could hear the seagulls, an unidentified bird with a song like a Morse telegraphist, and amid the tranquility the distant sound of sirens.

Afterwards there was coffee and cakes, a chance to confirm what they say about the cook, a chance just to chat.

"A lot of people come here who don't go to any other church. There are no demands made here, " said Therese.

"It isn't just a holy huddle, you can see real changes in people, " said Paul.

"It's a bit less judgmental, " said Fr Peter, strolling through the twilit garden before heading back to the hills.

Durham seemed different by eight o'clock. After the priory commitment, the old place was positively deafening.

* Details of all that goes on at St Anthony's Priory, including counselling, quiet days and private retreats, are available on 0191-384-3747, e-mail durham.ssm@which.net