If I had been born a man, I might have become a monk. I was reminded of that this week while watching the BBC2 reality TV show The Monastery.

In the programme, five ordinary guys from very different walks of life, including a former Protestant paramilitary who has been in and out of prison, live in a monastery for 40 days and 40 nights to see how they cope with the disciplines of silence, celibacy and obedience.

The monks who are either brave or foolhardy enough to allow a TV crew to film them in their most intimate moments were those of Worth Abbey, a Benedictine monastery in Sussex.

I have frequented Worth for more than 20 years. It is a place that has had a more profound impact on my life than any other. It where I feel most at home. For many years, I would not make a major decision without going back to Worth to test it out. In the will I wrote before I married, I asked for my funeral to be held there.

As I watched the five participants in the reality TV show dealing with being tired, bored, scared, curious, hostile, overwhelmed and touched to the root of their beings, I thought: "Yup. That's what that place does to you."

When I first arrived at Worth, just as the show participants did, more than two decades ago, I could not believe that men really did wander around in black frocks.

I was phenomenally curious and inundated the monks with questions like: "What's this monkey business? Why do you wear habits? If sex was created by God then what is the value of celibacy?"

The monks responded with humour, with thoughtfulness and a personal care which was far more challenging to me than my questions were to them.

I was hooked and was lucky enough to be allowed to live on site with them for several months while I wrote my first book.

At first, it seemed very odd that I, a feminist, could be held in thrall through the spirituality of men; that I, a socialist, could be hanging around at a monastery which ran a boy's public school; that I, who was writing a chapter on sexuality, could be fascinated by what these celibates were saying about sex.

But actually, the latter is not so surprising. If someone has made the conscious decision never to have sex again, you can bet he will have thought about what sex is, what it means and how libido can be used creatively far more deeply than your regular Joe.

As for the rest, I was seduced. I let go of the ways of thinking I had held so dear and allowed myself to be transformed through their mystical vision of God.

If I had been a man I have no doubt, I would have taken the step of becoming a novice at Worth.

There are many ways I could rationalise that decision. I could say that I am by nature single-minded and would benefit from the focused way of life that monasticism offers.

But actually, I think my attraction to Worth defies such explanations. It can't be explained any more than falling in love can.

The programme makers claimed to be investigating whether the ancient monastic values have got anything to offer the 21st century.

If they had asked me I'd have said: "More than anything else, I have ever come across."