Stairway to hell

Believe it or not, this is an official, registered, designated, approved, etc., etc, cycle track. It’s on the approach to Derby, when I am later than planned, and slightly anxious about getting to the cathedral in time.

It requires half a mile of back-tracking, and then descending the slip road to the A52, which is practically a motorway.. Some swearing is involved. Possibly out loud.

Before then, it’s a nice ride, through expensive (and occasionally less expensive) villages, with paddocks, and friendly notices like “Private drive: No Turning”. Here are two ladies on horses; one gives me a happy wave; the other is oblivious, scrolling her phone.

And then the city of Nottingham, with its trams and its university. A large derelict canalside site aching for redevelopment. The thought distracts me for only a few seconds.

The Nottingham Croquet Club is unexpected. Nine exquisite lawns, five of them in play, next to what looks like a stately home’s lake, with equally unexpected statuary.

On the outskirts of town there’s a grim metaphor of the industrial life: a huge flat-faced, four- or five-storey factory towering over an endless graveyard.

A brief stop at a Persian cafe, in a very un-Persian looking place, where the banana cake has hints of saffron. But there’s no time for dawdling.

Safely off the A52, shaken but not stirred, I’m confused by two road signs pointing to the City Centre, in opposite directions. I stop to read an email from the Dean of Lincoln:

“The creative combination of music, word and art, performed with great sensitivity in a sacred space, was profoundly moving. Your portrayal of the Seven Last Words of Christ transported the audience to the foot of the cross and left us spiritually transformed by the experience.” You couldn’t ask for more than that, could you?

In Derby’s modest but beautiful cathedral, they set me up in the “retro-quire”, a slightly elevated space behind the altar, where my view of the cathedral is stunning. The word has been spread, and the space fills up. It’s very relaxed. Afterwards there’s a nice queue of people, telling me how they come to be here, and wishing me God-speed, before old-friend Andrew whisks me away, to stay in beautiful comfort in a quiet bungalow on the edge of town.