Whatever the challenges facing Pope Benedict XVI in Britain next week, they pale in comparison with 1982.Pope John Paul II flew in at 8 o'clock on a bright May morning to a country at war in the Falklands, with casualties overnight against the troops of Argentina, an overwhelmingly Catholic country.
Almost to the wire, no one outside the Vatican knew whether the visit was actually going to happen. Vincent Malone, now retired auxiliary archbishop of Liverpool, sat through a health and safety meeting - should the Savlon be in tubes or jars was one agenda item - expecting a message from Rome that would call the whole thing off.
However, the charismatic "Polish pope" was determined to become the first serving pontiff to visit the island that had turned its back on Rome nearly 500 years earlier.
John Paul had sprung the idea a year before, in a video link to the Catholic national pastoral congress in Liverpool. The timing was perfect for the Anglican church and other denominations fired up with ecumenical vigour.
After kissing the runway at Gatwick in front of 3,500 singing children, and scooping up a 12-year-old with cerebral palsy in his arms, he met their expectations in full.
On the first day alone, he departed from his prepared text three times, to call for peace in the Falklands, and in Northern Ireland - whose struggles were represented throughout the visit by protesters from Ian Paisley's Free Presbyterian church.
But, as the Guardian's then churches correspondent, Martyn Halsall, puts it today: "That was an expression of the fundamental Christian ideal of peace. It transcended politics."
The nitty-gritty of the visit lay elsewhere. "John Paul had clearly been very well briefed about the relative liberalism of English Catholics on social issues," says Halsall.
As the 62-year-old pope toured nine cities in six days, delivering 16 major addresses and drawing vast, sunny-natured crowds, he put the tenets of his faith into a contemporary, British context.
"One veteran observer even floated the idea that this was a new pope – Jean Paul III," says Halsall. Especially significant was a visit to Canterbury and an embrace with its archbishop, Robert Runcie - a see and its holder whose status the Vatican did not officially recognise.
The first pope from outside Italy since the 15th century, John Paul had some of the Anglophilia of many Poles.
Among the most enthusiastic of crowds were Polish communities settled in Britain. He addressed them in their own language on three occasions.
More widely, John Paul spoke with the eloquence of an actor and poet - both part of his CV - of his delight in being the country's guest.
He called himself the "bishop of Rome" - a phrase used slightingly by Henry VIII - and met the Queen (although not the prime minister, Margaret Thatcher - the Vatican secretary of state, Cardinal Casaroli, did the talking with her).
Halsall singles out three especially striking occasions, one related to the Falklands specifically, the other two with resonances for all humanity.
"It was extremely moving when he appealed for peace at Coventry cathedral, drawing on the new church amid the ruins of its blitzed predecessor.
"Then, his relationship with young people at the youth service in Cardiff was pure charisma.
"And when he moved among the elderly, ill and dying at a special service in London, he became a simple priest, doing the fundamental work of his calling."
The crowds posed problems every bit as expensive as those in preparation for Benedict. Logistics were often horrendous; and security at Coventry alone cost £2.65m at today's prices.
A perimeter fence at Glasgow, where Protestant bands played Orange songs at a small counter-rally, cost £160,000.
Six Free Presbyterian ministers, arrested on the first day for alleged public order offences, were released on bail only after the pope's aircraft had lifted off for Rome.
There were disappointments, too. Security fears and excessive hype saw the crowd at Heaton Park in Manchester fall to 200,000 instead of the predicted million.
In an ironic reversal of the Feeding of the Five Thousand, one stallholder threw away £2,000 worth of unwanted burgers, sausages and chips.
But overall, everyone was satisfied and extremely relieved, even though the Falklands war continued unabated and fundamental issues between the churches were not resolved.
One of the last, and most lasting, images was John Paul's gentle teasing of the youth rally, saying twice that he had to return to Rome, which prompted, with stylish timing, huge cries of "No".
He hoped to come back, he said, but that was not to be.
Soon his successor arrives instead.
SIC: TG/UK