VWPilgrim

First published 17th June 2023

Sara and her husband Stewart, were a good hour or so away from Ulswater in a lovely little cottage (appropriately called ‘The little cottage’) in tiny little village just off the A6. Two small roads, village green, a garage and a pub, that’s it. Sara was part of the group we used to hang around with when we were at Bredbury Comprehensive school together in the 80’s, and over the years she has done a really good job of keeping in touch. Although, through one reason or another, we hadn’t physically met for at least 12 years. We chatted about family and what had happened over the time we hadn’t seen each other, and they showed me the bar they were building in the back of the garden for their kids upcoming 21st.

We then set off for a curry they had booked. “Don’t worry what it looks like from the outside, it’s cash only and we have to bring our own booze, but I promise you it’s a good curry.” The last time Sara and I had a curry was when she was at uni in Portsmouth, there was an unfortunate incident involving her bike being locked to the top of the halls of residents stairs and wrapped in toilet paper, which I may or may not have had something to do with! Sara was right, from the outside the Cinnamon Spice in Silverdale, didn’t look much, but the smell was amazing. The food and the service was great, the best curry I’ve had in a very long time. We ended up Sara’s village pub at the end of the evening, a place where everyone really did know everyone, and the dogs were alowed to roam free! Then back home to Molly for a sleep on the drive. A lovely evening, picking up where we left off all those years ago.

Following breakfast, I realised how close I was to Morecambe, a place I haven’t been to since primary school, so I set off to see if I could find the statue of Eric. Following a chance encounter in the pub, this week, for our younger readers, Eric Morcambe was a great comedian and part of a double act with Ernie Wise. There TV shows attracted millions and always ended with the song ‘Bring me Sunshine’ and an iconic dance!

I parked up on the sea front at the end of the promenade. Parking was free and the scenery beautiful so I set about to walk the promenade, a decision I was to regret! It was a very hot Saturday lunchtime, and I thought the promenade was long because the last time I walked it my legs were little. I was wrong, the promenade is long, even with big legs! Eventually I made it to the middle and found a the statue of Eric Morecambe, and went looking for something to drink, preferbly with ice, I thought. Up a little from the statue was the impressive looking Victorian Theatre, The Winter Gardens. As I walked past, a nice man, in a waistcoat and hat, said “come in it’s free”. I could feel the cool air flowing out so I went in. And I am so glad I did.

As you enter the faded glory of the building takes your breath away. Most of the chairs were taken away and tables were scattered around. On the stage was Peter, wearing Eric Morecambe glasses, playing ‘Bring me sunshine’ on the hammond organ. I had to stay! I went to the old ticket office which was where refreshments were served. “Could I have an iced latte, please?” I asked. “No, love” said the nice lady behind the counter. Of course not, what was I thinking, pot tea, grated cheese and ham sandwich and a couple of those slightly stale biscuits please. Perfect.

I sat for an hour listening to Peter who had now moved on to classics like ‘Smoke gets in your eyes’ by the Platters. I also chatted to one of the volunteers who told me about the plans for the building and it’s renovation. They have just received a huge grant from the arts council. Then I spoke with the chair of the committee, who had got the funding, and is part of the team who are doing their best to keep this wonderful building alive. Their passion for the project was infectious. I bought a T-shirt and cheerly said goodbye, promising to come back for the grand opening.

The long hot walk back to Molly was nothing in comparison to the long hot drive to my next destination. Wendy is another friend from school days and should have been just an hour down the M6 into Wigan. Unfortunately, an accident on the motorway, and weight of traffic, meant it was two hours. Molly’s only air con is to wind the window down, although to be fair, since I had done such a poor job repairing the door, there is a lovely breeze that blows about my legs, but only when we are moving. I arrived at my destination, rather sticky and red in the face.

Wendy took one look at me as I arrived, ‘Fancy a shower, erm, now?” she asked. Did I look that bad? A shower was just what a needed, which was followed by a rather lovely whipped goats cheese salad. At the start of my sabbatical, Wendy had messaged me to say that on 21st April there was a service in the church where we used to go to youth events together. It was also where I was a cub, 1st Woodley, until I was thrown out for playing football on the roof. The service was a celebration of the church as it was sadly closing and the congregation was merging with another church, Hatherlow URC, where I became a Christian. As I had no plans that weekend, and it was a good chance to see mum and dad, I went up to give thanks for a church that welcomed even a rogue like me!

We spent the evening in Wendy’s garage which they had converted into a rather nice bar.   Second time in two days I had ‘bar envy’ – we do have one at the vicarage but it’s what I insist on calling the cupboard under the stairs .  We reminisced about what we got up to in school and the FURY events (Federation of United Reformed Youth) which was perhaps not as wholesome as our parents believed!  When Wendy had heard through Sara I was going forward to be a vicar her response was “What Mecca?”, given some of the things we were remebered I was surprised too.

Mecca, was my nickname at school. Nothing to do with Bingo or places of pilgramage. It was a name given to me in primary by friends to distinguish me from my brothers and counsins, and it stuck! In secondary, very few actually knew my first name was Dave, which I liked, and was sometimes helpful, there was no ‘Mecca’ on the registers!

Wendy is currently a brilliant headteacher of a local primary school, and we talked about the challenges of the education system and working in a challenging area and school.  We also covered mental health, church and the need to accept, love and welcome people as they are.  She reminded me that helping people feel like they belong is “essential for their education and all our mental health”. She also said I must watch Ted Lasso!

Sunday morning, Wendy and Andy were off early to go to an air show, so after breakfast I went on my own to the local church.  The church had no car park but there was a handy Co-op across the road where I left Molly. The morning the service, like St Paul’s Spennymoor, was a new format, also only the second time they had done it. Led by a reader and the soon to be ordained curate.  It was a nicely done, very friendly service with a lovely welcome.  Sadly no coffee afterwards, and there was a crowd at the door. Unfortunately this meant I didn’t get to introduce myself to the team properly.  

I got a cold drink from the CO-OP and sat in Molly’s doorway chatting to some of the church members as they passed by.  One chap, who I don’t think was in church, started chatting to me about Molly and I told him about the adventure we had been on.  He recommend a local park to go and have my lunch in and wandered off, saying to himself.  “eee, a vicar in a  40 year VW who’s driven over 850 miles to be here, who’d ‘ave thought it, who’d ‘ave thought it.  What a story, what a story.”

As I pulled out of the car park I saw the couple who had led the service, they waved, we tooted and drove off leaving them with a slightly puzzled look on their faces, wondering who was this strange visitor, driving a rusty old campervan?

Pennington Park nature reserve was created on an old mining area, and is a nice place for a walk and a pray. Lovely spot, where people insisted on giving you their parking tickets so you didn’t have to pay – they looked a bit puzzled when I refused! On the way in I noticed 3 height barriers, and these looked a bit small. Molly is 2.09m tall, most barriers say 2.1m, as these did, but our experince has been that this is not that a reliable measure. As they were were swung back I didn’t have to worry. Except on the way out! The middle one of the three had been closed and I approached with extreme caution. A fiesta full of lads were letting me through, I pointed to the roof and the barrier, he worked out what I meant and he beckond me forward, slightly wincing. We made it through, I stopped to thank him, “that much” he laughed hoding his thumb and finger up! ‘That much’ was not a lot at all.

After the park I headed off to my older brother’s, who has recently moved into a lovely big new house.  When I pulled up he greeted me in the way that anyone who has an older sibling will be familiar with   “You need a haircut” – “Hello Mike how are you?”  What followed was a lovely evening with my brother, his wife, niece and nephews, with their partners and children, sharing a BBQ.  There was also a bit of DIY, putting up a pagoda in case of the pending storm, all seemed in hand, so I escaped to the kitchen and found the wine and chat instead! Don’t often get time to spend with my brother and his family, and I’m really glad that I did, we made up for lost time by staying up very late! 

The next morning was Monday, the start of the last week of my pilgrimage and I headed off to my mum and dad’s near Stockport.  One of Molly’s little ‘quirks’ is the fuel gauge.  It really only registers the top halfish of the petrol tank, when the gauge say’s it’s empty there’s probably (maybe) half(ish) left in the tank. I use an app (as we have said, there’s an app for everything) to monitor how much fuel might be left.   I’d forgotten when the gauage had started registering empty, but having been told the Morrisonos near Mum and Dad’s was 2p a litre cheaper, I thought I’d chance it. It was 52 miles away, should be ok!   The concern over the fuel added a little jeopardy to the otherwise straightforward trip down. After filling up at Morrisons, saving myself at least 60p, I arrived and squeezed Molly onto the driveway of the house that I grew up in…

Just!