out of the ordinary

Because what has become ordinary has been put on hold for a couple of days. I have purple tape along a tendon line of my left leg, and frozen peas on hand. It is interesting that we can fall into routines very quickly, so that, when we quickly fall out of them, our bodies take a while to adjust ... everything takes different lengths of time to catch up. I have walked 299 miles ... give or take a metre or two ... and have only just left south west England, and am now writing this from Herefordshire. I will go back to South Wales, to the exact spot that the picture of the Wye was taken, and resume, hopefully in a couple of days time. I dreamed last night that I had continued walking, on to Monmouth, and in a half awake state this morning tried to convince myself that if I'd dreamed it, I had really walked it, and so I wouldn't have to do it again. But in order for me to say I'd walked Land's End to John O'Groats I think I would need to be awake.

I have been thinking about how inclusive just posting on facebook isn't though, and so I have tried to use this time constructively and make this blog. I was, after all, asked if I would, and I thought it would be too difficult from a phone, but apparently it isn't. So ... I'll give it a try over the next week or so and see what happens. For now, there is a selection of bits of writing below that I had already posted to facebook on the dates quoted.

For now, some reflections on the past three and a half weeks ...

I guess I never really imagined that it was such a big thing to do. I mean, I know 1233 miles is a long way, but I thought it wasn't so out of the ordinary. I have realised it is. And that it's not the easiest thing I have ever done. Times when I feel out of the ordinary are when I walk into the suburbs of a town in walking boots with mud up my legs, and a large backpack on, and realise that not everyone is dressed the same way as me; when every other guest in the campsite is in a camper van or a caravan and I feel a little bit envious; when people hand me money on the top of a hill because something has connected deep inside them which has made them realise that the freedom and welfare of a people constricted by personal and political circumstance is worth opening their wallet for; and when I am in 'bed' (sleeping bag) by 10 and up at 6, having spent the last three years of my life listening to 'Sailing By' and the beginning of the Today programme with no time for reflection, and barely any time for meaningful relationship or conversation, in between. And my faith in people has been almost instantly reconstructed .... the kindness of strangers is overwhelming at times - in a donation to the fundraising, in the help with laundry, in the buying of a drink, in the recognition of tiredness and need of encouragement, in the time for conversation and connection, and in the gift of a free night in a campsite or two. And the encouragement of friends everywhere who have been reading my posts and looking at the pictures should never be underestimated. It means such a great deal.

And some memorable things ... playing the piano and singing in a deserted church in Somerset in full waterproofs, foxes on high cliffs, sea mist, a dolphin, a knitted Easter garden, round tables in King Arthur's cafe in Tintagel, buzzards, two peregrine falcons, Lundy on a crystal clear evening on a mirror-like sea, lots of food banks, a military firing range being used, taking pictures of a GCHQ communications station (should I be writing that down?), surprisingly wide views, being chased by cattle over and over again and the immense satisfaction gained from shouting at them to 'f*** off' over and over again until they actually do, an electric fence shock (big), hanging onto a fence post above a cliff in winds strong enough to have blown me over twice already, the indescribable anxiety of being at Land's End alone, how much the M48 bridge over the Severn rattles, the pleasure of companionship, champagne, unexpected meetings with friends, singing Vivaldi under the M5, Orff under the M48, and Elton John to a herd of cows, being alone in mist, the delightfulness and strangeness of village shops, the individuality of village pubs, realising that it's not surprising that the Somerset levels flooded so badly, saints' names in Cornwall, wild camping for the first time and not alone ... and much more.

This is all for a reason ... please consider donating to the fundraising! It doesn't matter if it's 5 pence or £500 - it all helps people living in a situation most of us are lucky enough to only be able to being to imagine.