Pilgrim Cello

I paid a quick return visit to St. Alban’s cathedral this morning, feeling guilty that I’d seen almost nothing of it last night. The visit was curtailed by the entry of 800 smart and confidently polite pupils from the local public school, coming for their bi-weekly assembly. But I had time to see the tomb […]

I stayed in an unsalubrious pub last night. As I approached, quite late after the evening’s performance, I could hear the bingo from quite a distance. The juke box thudded under my room until late. The unopenable window in my tiny space would have opened onto a blank black wall two feet away. They don’t

Edmund was an English king, who came to a sticky end in a confrontation with some Vikings. That misfortune quickly earned him a sainthood, and his shrine became one of the richest in England. The ruins of the abbey, that I can see from my window in Kate and Matthew’s lovely house, cover acres. I

I should have left earlier. But even now I’m not awake enough. I can’t get into Norwich cathedral, until I work out that the conspicuous notice by the door handle is telling me to turn it anti-clockwise. I need to ride an hour before a BBC radio appointment at 8.30. I want to be sitting

I went to bed last night feeling sorry for myself, reciting a litany of my complaints about life. So this morning I’m reminding myself there’s no-one to blame but me. I chose this. The road is often lonely, and every cheery greeting that elicits only a blank stare saps a little bit of energy. And

From where I’m sitting I can see a good part of Ely’s Octagon. The Octagon is a lantern, like Sheffield’s only about 500 years older. It is also tower. It sits atop the crossing, and makes a splendid statement. In their Norman beginnings, Ely and Lincoln cathedrals were in a battle royal: which could build

Worse than a mechanical failure of the bike! The cello bow is falling apart. It’s not serious, and someone with the right skills could fix it in a few minutes. But whereas bike shops are easy to find, where am I going to locate a cello bow repairer? On a Saturday. I’ve already got 70

I stop for coffee in a place called Quorn. At first I can’t work out if that’s the name of the village, or what they want their customers to eat with their coffee – which doesn’t sound like a good idea at all. Two small boys are being treated to very adult sized milk shakes,

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

In a flippant moment I once described Newark as an insignificant town in Nottinghamshire. These days I reflect more on my own insignificance, and I fully repented the comment when I first visited Newark for its literary festival last year. Newark is historic, intricate, and splendid. I’m going to be passing through the town today,