"I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train."
Oscar Wilde

Whether its catching up on the news during the daily commute to and from work or passing the time on a long train journey, we all like something to read on a journey. But the holiday season spurs us on to seek something a bit different. Perhaps something less demanding to rest the addled brain, or something surreal to offer an escape from normality.

Admittedly the present British weather is more likely to inspire those planning a couple of weeks in the not-so-British-sun than impromptu nights under canvas, but wherever you're headed a good book could make all the difference to the quality of your relaxation.

If you haven't quite reconciled yourself to 'Chick Lit' or its masculine parallel, why not take a little of Wilde's advice? Your diary isn't up to scratch? A well-chosen biography could be the next best thing.

To help you out, we've prepared a few extracts from recent lives of famous -and infamous- clerics. Read on and get ready to make an informed choice on the sensations most suited to the space in your suitcase:

"Like many who proclaim their love for the poor, Trevor Huddleston came from a wealthy background. In 1913 the Huddleston family was living at 36, Chaucer Road, a large red brick Edwardian house on the outskirts of Bedford. Trevor was born on 15 June, four years after his sister Barbara, and was baptized when he was five weeks old at the parish church of St. Paul. He was given the name Ernest Urban Trevor.

A branch of the Huddleston family was deeply religious. One of Trevor's ancestors was Fr John Huddleston (1608-1698), a Restoration priest and Benedictine monk who helped Charles II escape from Worcester and who received the king into the Roman Catholic Church on his deathbed. There were many generations of Huddleston clergy, spurred on by the family motto Soli Deo Honor et Gloria - 'Honour and Glory to God Alone'.

But Trevor did not belong to this branch. He was a descendant of the sailor Huddlestons, who were part of the British Raj in India. In 1890 his Uncle Willoughby, a naval officer, had received a gold medal for rescuing a seaman from shark-infested waters off the Bay of Bengal. Trevor's father, Ernest, the son of an Indian army officer and one of twelve children, had run away from Bedford School at the age of 14 to join the merchant navy. After transferring to the Royal Indian Marine, he ended up commanding the Royal Indian Navy, before returning to England as a nautical adviser to the Indian government. He, too, had received a medal for his courage; in 1897, he was awarded a Silver Medal for gallantry at sea, when a troop ship, with over a thousand men on board, was wrecked on an island off the coast of Mauritius. He was awarded a knighthood in 1937...."

"As the door of the Old Palace banged behind Eileen and the family as they departed for the cathedral, I was left alone in the main lounge to await the summons that would most certainly change the direction of my life. At lunchtime with my family around the kitchen table there had been nervous laughter as Andrew, who had had his hair cut that morning, recounted hearing another customer talk about the 'enthornment' of the new Archbishop. We all agreed that that was a great description of it, although another of the family volunteered, 'At least he didn't say "entombment".'

Somewhere in the building Graham James, my Chaplain, was sorting out the robes I would shortly wear. From the lounge window I could see and hear the crowds of people teeming around the west front of the cathedral. They were there to catcah a glimpse of the Princess of Wales and other dignitaries including the Prime Minister..."

"Brian Brindley (1931-2001) possessed the essential qualification of a great English eccentric: he did not know how eccentric he was. When I was a reporter on the Reading Chronicle in the 1980s, I would sometimes run into the then Canon Brindley striding through Sainsbury's, panting from his heavy shopping bags, dressed as an eighteenth-century Roman monsignor. His buckled shoes with red heels - painted by himself - clopped like horses' hooves against the linoleum as he scoured the aisles for ever creamier puddings; his fatness was disguised by a soutane with 39 red buttons, 'one for each of the Articles I don't believe in', (As the highest of high churchmen, he had a robust disrespect for the Church of England's Protestant heritage; his organists had it written into their contracts that they must never play Luther's 'Ein feste Burg') There was a touch of the pantomime dame about Brian, which could cause sniggering in the checkout queue."

"One of the finest views in the whole of England is that of Durham from its railway station. The eyes are drawn first up to the towers of the magnificent cathedral perched on a hill, above the river, and then to the medieval castle close by, and finally down the steep wooded banks to the river Wear, and to two of the numerous bridges which today span the river in its spectacular gorge.

On 20 July 1901 a small, very frail, elderly man with masses of grey hair was preaching to a large congregation in this cathedral. It was the annual Durham Miners' Gala day, and the town was packed with miners and their families. Brooke Foss Westcott, Bishop of Durham, was preaching at the annual Gala day service. He was a dying man - this was to be his last appearance in public - but only a few people present knew this. He spoke of the love of God in Christ, which lkindles a responsive love in our hearts that is the motive for all Christian work and action. He quoted Robert Browning to the effect that life is for learning love, and spoke movingly of his own personal conviction that the love of Christ and obedience to his will are the two secrets of life. He mentioned his love for the county of Durham, and his pride in its..."

"Ever since I was a little boy I have simply believed in God. I discovered this belief as a conscious matter of engagement, response and will when I was told, at the age of ten, that Jesus showed that God was for me. It was made clear to me that God was for me, because God is for all, because God is love. In Jesus God was especially and particularly demonstrating his divine dynamic of love as an invitation and assistance to us human beings to enable us to develop our own dynamic of love. I knew something about love because it was clear to me that my mother loved me, with the support of my father, who kept our home going in a very friendly way. At the age of ten this was all very simple and obvious - and promised to be wonderful.

At the same age I began to understand that human nature also involved a different and, indeed, conflicting dynamic - labelled 'sin' in the overall story of God's dealings with human beings. It was the contest with sin that provided the substance and dynamic of the Bible. I cannot say that as a teenager I had a deep and overwhelming snese of my own personal sinfulness, but it was obvious to me that there was a great deal wrong with the world. I could see that much of this wrongness and misery was caused by human beings. And at the strictly personal level, in the course of life I myself became involved in actions and events about which it was more appropriate to be ashamed than proud. This problem of the pressure..."