Pilgrim Cello

There are five young cyclists at breakfast, a couple of days into the End-to-End, Lands End to John O’Groats. They have wafer-thin lightweight bikes, and a vehicle to carry all their stuff; but they look exhausted already, and they’re only just out of Cornwall. Cornwall. Over the Old Tamar Bridge, which has conveyed wheeled traffic […]

It’s a lovely sunny day. I’m sitting in a beautiful Devon garden, before breakfast, trying to feel positive about it, and not quite succeeding. I’m full of doubts about the day – a Sunday performance in a big cathedral, and then a ride across the top end of Dartmoor. What could be better? But I’m

The Meditation on the Seven Last Words ends with the line, “You commit your spirit, hoping, hoping, for the best”. The reflection on Jesus’s assurance to the thief crucified with him, begins with the line, “Hope is all I’ve got”. So I just have to stop to admire this graffiti before I dive under the

It promises to be a warm day. It’s muggy, but not yet sunny. I’ve had a few flat miles, and I’ve just passed a little sign welcoming me to the South Downs National Park. Downs can only mean one thing: Ups Just past Vernon Hill House (there’s a clue in the name), Ridge End, and

Thomas is up, bright and early, to ride with me for a bit. There’s a bit of mizzle, and a bit of traffic, and a bit of a hill, but we’re off to a good start. It’s very wooded in these Surrey hills, so we’re protected from the dampness in the air, and from the

I wrote about Canterbury yesterday, and forgot to post it. So if you are faced with two blogs today, this is the second. Sorry. I was faced with a difficult decision this morning. The Cycle Travel app wants to send me on a beautiful quiet hilly 50 mile ride to Guildford. But I think there

I don’t think there is a more magnificent cathedral in England than Canterbury, the first English cathedral, dating from early in the seventh century. And better than some of England’s other grandest cathedrals, Canterbury manages to be friendly, and welcoming, and full of spiritual intensity. You don’t feel that tourism has swamped it; the tourists

Yesterday was all about the cello. Today it’s nearly all about the bike. Yesterday’s ride was short, an escorted half hour from Brockwell Park to Southwark cathedral, and back again – Jenny in front, navigating, and Alfie behind, protecting. You could almost hear the sirens. There will be no performance today. There will be a

Which came first, the cello or the bike? I was asked yesterday. And the same question, more or less, today: is the bike or the cello more important on this journey? The answer comes without hesitation. Libre, my beautiful black, curvy, shiny, companion – my cello – is what makes possible the daily offering of