VWPilgrim

First published 24th June 2023

Exactly a week after I had returned home from Manchester I decided I was going to start writing the last chapter of the blog.  I’d had a wash or two, celebrated birthdays and was feeling refreshed.  I’ve really enjoyed writing this blog, and those of you reading it have said some very kind things about it, so I wanted to make sure the last one was a good one.

To inspire me I thought I would recreate the ‘magic’ of the pilgrimage by taking Molly, along with our black lab, Oskar, out to a local National Trust property, Houghton Mill, and write.  The sun was shining, the first proper good day of sunshine since I got home, and I packed Molly with essentials and headed off just after 9am.  Perfect.

Only, I had taken Oskar with me.  I should have noticed the signs early on.  The Bluetooth speaker, had run out of charge, so no ‘warmitup’ ritual and literally the moment I turned into the roadworks on Milton road I realised I hadn’t put Oskar’s lead in.  I doubled back round picked up the lead and was on my way, again. 

Houghton Mill is only about 25 minutes away, a regular run for Molly and a place that Oskar adores, particularly, on a hot day.   It’s shady and he can leap in and out of the river Ouse.  But when I arrived at the car park there was a new sign:  “No motorhomes, camper vans or vehicles over 2m” it read. (Moly is 2.09m) Fortunately there was no barrier and, trying to look small, I drove past the car park assistant who didn’t seem to be reaching for her tape measure.

We hid under a tree and set off on the lovely walk around the grounds and the river.  Oskar was very pleased to be there, but it was a lot more overgrown than our last visit in March,  because of this I ended up going down a pathway I’d never taken before.  Still, in the adventurous spirit of the pilgrimage I went with the flow, trying to stop Oskar eating his own body weight in grass as we gradually got lost.  Finally, after about an hour we made it to Oskar’s favourite bit, slightly hot and bothered. Oskar’s favourite bit is a small beachy area on the river where he can run in and out of the water. He was happily splashing away and made a new friend in the form of another, proper size, long haired, Labrador (Oskar is a bit dinky for a Lab).  His owner was standing on the bank on the phone, holding tightly onto her other dog, a little Jack Russel.

I went over to say hello to the owner, who, slightly annoyed with me for speaking to her, said “I’m on my phone… it’s important”. I apologised and backed away and tried to extract Oskar from the scene, he was now in a frenzied battle in the river with her lab over a tennis ball.  The owner finished the call, Oskar finally came out, but then got a little too friendly with the little Jack Russel, which neither the Jack Russel nor the owner took kindly too.  After a bit of shouting and barking I dragged him away telling him he should be ashamed.

We got back to Molly, I sat Oskar on a towel and blanket in disgrace and set about making myself some coffee.  Oskar decided his punishment was over, couldn’t contain himself any longer and leapt inside Molly putting muddy paws all over the cushions and nearly sending the coffee flying from the hob.  I dragged him out, put him on the towel and ate my lunch.  Lunch was a very nice Cornish pasty from the cafe, which Oskar insisted on watching me eat – every – single – morsel.

In February I had toyed with the idea of taking Oskar with me on my pilgrimage.  He’s a good ice breaker and wouldn’t have been any bother I thought. Hazel had objected and I got the feeling that she would miss the dog more than me! Feeling slightly fraught, and in no mood to write, I decided to quit whilst I was ahead and head back to Cambridge.

On the way out on the mill, you drive along a pretty row of thatched cottages. A very good looking couple with a toddler in a pushchair, started taking photo’s of Molly as we headed towards them.  I gave them a cheery wave, and a toot, which woke the toddler up with a start. I could hear his screaming, even over Molly’s ‘put-putting’, as I made as speedy an exit as I could. ‘Magic’ over!

Aside from learning that leaving Oskar at home was a very good thing what else have I learnt from the pilgrimage part of the sabbatical? 

Spotify has a sense of humour and perfect timing! Having never written a blog before, and uncertain that anything interesting would happen, I thought the playlist could be a good ‘hook’ to reflect on and write about. Plenty happened so I didn’t need to do that, but the songs played their part. From the opening song at 4:22am on the way to St Paul’s, ‘Don’t stop me now’, to the last ‘Staying Alive’ speeding off from Manchester Cathedral, the songs, randomly chosen by the shuffle feature, often fitted the moment perfectly. I was glad that I had made the decision to screen shot each song as proof that I wasn’t making things up for comic effect!

I enjoy writing a blog.  I was initially daunted about writing, and if I’m honest, I only decided to write one to get out of a 5,000 word essay for the bishop at the end of the sabbatical.  I have discovered that I actually like writing, when I have something to write about, and I have time to write. I can’t remember who said it, but the advice “just start writing”, was invaluable. Plenty happened to write about, that wasn’t a problem, but it was important that it ‘sounded’ like me, like I was telling you the story in the pub.  I’m particularly grateful to a member of the congregation Tom, who, having read a ‘test blog’ that I’d done, commented on how he liked the style.  This gave me confidence to do it this way, and I was also grateful for the comments from readers as I went along, it felt that you were getting it and coming along with me.  What happens next with the blog, I’m not sure. 

Hazel became a very patient editor and helped me translate what was in my mind onto the page, not always a big fan of my work being scrutinised but I was very grateful for this. The other challenge was remembering what had happened. Boredom is a great environment for creativity to flourish, especially whilst driving, and I would spend that time reflecting on what happened the last few days as I made my way to the next destination. The only problem is, that since my brain injury I have a very poor short term memory.  This meant that, occasionally, I had to pull into a lay-bay or service station to hastily scribble a few words to help me remember,  my notebook always to hand on the passenger seat. 

Cathedrals have their own character.  The character is shaped partly, I think, by the nature of the building, but also by the team who lead worship, welcome people in, and enable worship to happen.  I was disappointed about Durham, but looking back it wasn’t just about not being able to preside, if at all really.  I was disappointed about the lack of engagement with the cathedral team, so I didn’t get  the opportunity to get a feel of what the cathedral was about, in the same way I did the others. It’s also been interesting to see how different cathedrals approach worship.  Some more laid back, others particular in the way things should be done.  I liked the way that the services would sometimes ‘interrupt’ the sightseers, reminding them that the building is a living place of worship as well as a beautiful historic building.  Those that came to services were either very devout or just curious, there didn’t seem to be anyone in between!   I also learnt to appreciate the role of the vergers, who really are the ‘oil that keeps the wheels moving’.  Dedicated, hard working, they gave me confidence and certainly made me feel welcome.   

Being on pilgrimage isn’t always easy or comfortable.  It wasn’t all worship, coffee shops and pubs!  The night at the sacred stones campsite, and in the grounds of Carlisle cathedral were two nights in particular I felt uneasy.  The week of the enforced pitstop was disappointing, whilst it turned out well in the end, I did genuinely wonder whether I needed plan B.  There was no plan B!  

Before the pilgrimage I knew that I am not great with my own company and once or twice I did feel very alone. Travelling on my own was something new and interesting. Hazel and I have been happily married for over 30 years and we always go on holiday together. We’ve been apart for various things obviously, but holidays we are always together. I missed having her being physically around to make me feel safe, bounce ideas of and make suggestions and plans with. Being on my own reminded me what a whole we are together. But this did put me out of my comfort zone, which I knew it would. My extrovert side doesn’t cope for long without people, so I spoke to people, perhaps who I wouldn’t have approached, if I had someone with me. It did mean I sought out adventure and maybe took more of a risk at times.

I learnt how to take good photos.  Despite being various shades of orange and rust (or maybe because) Molly is very photogenic.  But it was the advice of one of our students, Ed, on placement with us at the Good Shepherd that has made all the difference.  He took some fantastic shots of the church and worship over the year he was with us and just before he left I asked him about it.  He told me to just look for a different angle, maybe just slightly to the left, or bending down and looking up, look for new ways of seeing the familiar.  His advice transformed how I looked at things through the camera lens.

I also learnt to receive hospitality.  I really enjoyed the spontaneity of the pilgrimage.  There were the five fixed points of worship but the rest really was organised at short notice.  I have been so grateful for people generously making time and space for me in their busy lives.  Opening their driveways or homes, or taking me out for a drink and a coffee.  I also enjoyed having the time to listen to people’s stories about families and ministry, work and spirituality.  A joyful and humbling experience.    I deliberately didn’t want to ring round people and have a tight itinerary, rushing from one place to another.   Putting the route out on social media, meant there was a chance that I would miss people who I would have liked to have seen, and I didn’t get to see everyone which I’m sad about, but that’s also ok.  Sometimes you have to accept you can’t do everything.

On this pilgrimage, I have remembered how much I like reading, how much I don’t miss television, and how little news I need to hear to get by.  I have learnt to pray in new ways, to trust and to face some fears. I’ve learnt, to accept, and at times, embrace disappointment and be willing to follow where that might lead. There has been healing and I feel that I have grown in a way that I don’t yet fully understand and can’t quite put into words at the moment.  I am overwhelmingly thankful, for being able to have the gift of this time, the adventure I have been on and  I’m so thankful for all those that have played a part and I got to spend time with. 

I am so thankful that I have had this chance to deepen my relationship with God, and that He has brought me home.