There wasn’t time for more than a piece of toast and a few strawberries last night before Adrian whisked me off to see a performance of The Taming of the Shrew, in the medieval Bishops’ Tithe Barn. The Bishops must have collected a lot of tithes in those days, but now it’s hard to find a use for such a building.
Adrian has charged his bike overnight, so that he can ride up onto the Mendips with me. It’s quite hard work. Halfway up the steep hill I have to stop. Adrian’s electric bike just sails up, but when he stops the slope is too steep for the bike to start again. He wobbles, and falls gracefully into the thorny hedge. An old lady, planning to drive by, stops to look, and refuses to go past, blocking the road. She’s not helping.
I see him safely dusted off, and back on the bike; but he’s a bad influence on me. A moment later I fall off too – for the first time, I remind myself, in 1,000 miles.
Usually I can squeeze past a tractor. Not this one. I turn round, and make a tactical retreat.
In Chew Magna – what a name – the big church is preparing for a big wedding. Two ladies are making a bit of drama with large arrangements of white silk flowers. There’s a working party – at least a dozen people – tidying up the churchyard. And a young man with a guitar on his back is striding out of the church muttering theatrically.
“Stress, stress, stress,” he’s saying to himself, so that everyone can hear, “anyone got a cigarette?” Inside the church, Sire Yohann de Hauteville is practising his yoga.
When I get to the coffee shop the young musician is there, sitting on the step, theatrically practising his vocals, and writing things down. I try, unsuccessfully, to avoid eye contact.
“I’m trying to get the words to the two songs they want,” he says; “I don’t know them”.
“Have they only just told you?”
“They told me about two weeks ago.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“In an hour.”
The way into Bristol is excitingly edgy, and there are prancing Irishmen outside the main station who want to know if they can borrow the cello. But I tell them I’m on a deadline.
It’s only three months since I did the Meditation here in the cathedral, with added commentary and silence, for a Lent Quiet Day, but it feels like half a lifetime ago. It also feels like a homecoming, and I’m very happy to be here.
Dean Mandy is here to welcome me again, and there’s a large audience. I’m looking over their heads, up to the West window, and feeling wonderful.
My young cousin Richard is here, and a couple who saw the performance by chance in Truro. They say they’re here by chance today too. They can’t believe I’ve cycled here from there. There’s a couple in matching T-shirts advertising Island Pilgrimage – “a round Britain prayer sail”. They are a month into their 3-year journey, and Bristol has good mooring.
Charles has brought his cello, on the off-chance of a bit of busking together, but I’m anxious to ride on; there’s still a long way to go this afternoon.
Richard guides me onto the Bristol Bath Railway Cycle Track, lovely and flat and straight. But after he turns round, to catch a train on a line that still has them, I’m hot and tired and hungry. I regret declining Charles’s offer of tea. I have to stop at a village shop for milk and cake – a whole cake – and then again at a pub to rehydrate. This isn’t hilly, but after 30 miles I’m more weary than I was in Cornwall.
So when I stop at Malmesbury Abbey – magnificent, even though a shadow of its former self, and with a Norman doorway to rival St. Germans – I’m very tempted to stay for the Malmesbury Singers’ concert that’s just about to kick off. But I know if I sit down I won’t get up again. And I have to get to Oxford tomorrow, and that’s a long way too.
Dear Kenneth.
It sounds like like you’ve had a bit of a trial today. I admire your amazing fortitude. I empathize with Adrian on his electric bike; I never stop mine on a hill; they’re so heavy it can be impossible to get them going again.
Keep going! It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing.
Your daily pilgrimage journey’s are always full of fascinating and evocative detail and I follow each post with anticipation coupled with a degree of trepidation that all has gone well or obstacles successfully overcome or their effects mitigated by the kindness of others and your innate resourcefulness and “divine providence”?
That afternoon following the Bristol cathedral performance was a real scorcher as I travelled south on four wheels. It was great meeting you- the quality of your music-making would have made me fall off my bike…it was a real treat to experience and has remained with me.
I am very impressed with your dedication and fortitude on this pilgrimage Ken, in this heat and the distances you have travelled. Perhaps I may catch you on your journey one day. Good luck.
It was lovely to see you again -and I haven’t been called young in a long time! I’m glad to hear you had a good onward journey to Malmesbury and have fun in Gloucestershire!
Meeting that tractor reminds me of a scene from a Mad Max Movie!
You declined the invitation to tea? That’s ok to do? I thought you were supposed to accept whatever was offered? And that woman who would not help! Oh I’d like to see her puncture her tires and then ask for your help. Hmph!