“Are you going to play for the Pope?” Terence asked, as he snipped the hair that was a good deal greyer since the last time I’d seen him, just before Covid. “Well, you should.”
That was a few days before I left home, in the last week of May. Not the Pope himself, I thought; but how would you go about getting permission to play in St. Peter’s Square?
I had a quick look at the Vatican’s websites. But they were too complicated, and I gave up. There were lots of other things to do, and Rome was a long way off.
But now here I am. I must have been in a hurry. The miles flew by, and after an hour I was sixteen miles out of Bracciano. I had to ring the reception committee, and tell them I’d be early.
Committee? Not exactly. But Jenny and Alfie are going to meet me at the Vatican. BBC Look North, who made quite a feature of my departure, want to make another of my arrival. Do it on a phone, they said; make it look homemade.
If you don’t ask, you don’t get. So I approached the Carabinieri, four of them, chatting outside their van with a soldier, his finger on the trigger.
“We don’t have jurisdiction,” they agreed. “You have to ask the police.” I didn’t have to look for the police. When I returned to the bike, there were half a dozen of them, wondering to each other whether they should arrest it.
So I asked. I’ve come from Hadrian’s Wall, yes, on the bike, yes, with the cello. Please could I play for five minutes in the Square – a fitting end to the journey.
“We don’t have jurisdiction,” one of them said. “That’s another country. You have to talk to the Vatican State Police.”
Where, I wondered, aloud, might I find the Vatican Police?
“You don’t. I call them for you. Show me your documents.”
So with my passport open in front of him, he rang his office, and explained the unusual request. “Normally of course, this isn’t allowed. But I think they might say yes.”
Ten minutes later the yes arrived, a phone call, followed not far behind by a large but un-uniformed Vatican official.
The policeman, from the neighbouring country, held onto my passport until I’d finished playing. He handed it back with a broad smile. “Complimenti”, he said, “Welcome to Rome.”
So I’ve played my cello in St Peter’s Square, outside the Vatican. My arrival has been officially filmed, in a homemade kind of a way, and should appear on the BBC later, by way of proof.
I’ve arrived. And in 1800 miles, and forty days, I haven’t had a puncture. I’m going to lie down.
28 thoughts on “Forty days without a puncture”
Congratulations, Ken. What an amazing achievement, and you have written so beautifully about it all. Thank you!
Thanks Angela! xx
I have so enjoyed reading your daily blogs.
Do you think you might rest awhile? The Carlisle Cathedral’s strap line for their 909th Anniversary is “ Journey and Rest”.
You have personified that theme and put into practice.
Thanks Sandy. Yes, a bit of rest is a good idea…
Huge congratulations Kenneth – an achievement indeed!
A rest is in order now.
Good wishes for a comfortable return journey
Congratulations and thank you for the very entertaining blog. It’s been a daily treat!
Should we arrest it!!?? Too funny !
What an incredible journey and you shared it with us so entertainingly. Enjoy your much earned rest.
Thanks Mary. Yes, a bit of rest!
Thanks you for sharing your journey with me, Kenny! What am I going to do tomorrow morning without your journey to read about? Bravo! Maybe you could continue in down the east coast of the US? Journey down from Maine to NC where I will definitely give you food and lodging and organize a house concert?
Thanks Diane! Yes, I’m wondering what to do next…
Huge congratulations!! Now … how do you get back, exactly? 🙂
Ah yes, on a train!
Congratulations, a great journey, and it’s been lovely to read every day
sounds brilliant. if O’d heard about it, I’d have followed your journey. Bravo!
Planning on riding back?
Bravo! What a wonderful achievement. And I bet you were glad to see your welcoming committee! xx
Oh yes, best day ever!
Well done Ken, a great achievement. I was at the house concert way back on 5th June and have followed your blog ever since. Most inspiring and entertaining – what make of tyres do you have?!
Rest, recover then write your inspired poems about your incredible journey!
Congratulations from us all!
Thanks Malcolm. I don’t know what make the tyres are, but the advertisements spoke very highly of them!
I don’t know what the tyres are, but they make better ones than they used to!
Congratulations Kenneth, can’t wait to meet you again one day and play a concert with you. Bravo
Thanks Catherine – yes, definitely we will. Don’t tell anyone, but a plan is beginning to form…
You are looking seriously buff in those photos.
Guess that is what 2k of riding will do for you.
Alaska to Mexico next year? It is a tailwind all the way…