Songline On Sea

I didn't sleep as long as expected but I went very slowly especially up and downstairs. I'm going to have to seek advice about my knees which I fear will not be straight forward having forced them far beyond what could reasonably be expected and for far too many miles. There was no way I was not going to complete the trip and I am grateful to so many people who were willing me on - that was a huge help. Now I have a desk piled high of packages sent home with local information picked up, stones off beaches, etc. I'm delighted with Paddy Hamilton's prints purchased in Dungeness which I will treasure as a particularly precious momento and which I opened first. After washing and cleaning all my gear and opening 5 months of mail I shall get back to my job as a choral conductor and choir trainer. Soon it will be time to prepare Christmas programmes! During the last few days of the walk the days were shortening rapidly, autumn was visible in the trees especially, the air perceptively cooler. In days gone by, pilgimages would finish. It feel right to be home. I have over 2000 photos to go through. From them I will select some for a presentation at our excellent Chequer Mead Theatre in East Grinstead at 7.30pm on Thursday 1 October. Anyone close enough to be able to come will be most welcome. There are a lot of people I have to thank for this year which I will do as a priority. Beyond that I am going to attempt to write a book about the whole 3 year experience. The dicipline of writing these blogs each day will be a huge help in remembering events on a daily basis. I have not added up the actual days walked but it must be close to a year in total. To those who have read the blogs, thank you for your interest - I hope you have enjoyed them. It is too soon for me to absorb what I have done and all the many experiences I had on the way. I do however know that these experiences have taught me a lot about our wonderful country, its people, its history, nature, geography, climate, but above all about myself. Everything is in a constant process of movement, change, development, evolution. It's happening out there and it's happening in here. The activity of walking takes you at a perfect speed to be able to see and experience those different dimensions. Walking is what we are designed to do. It's the first thing we learn to do and is still the best. I recommend it to everyone. End blogs.

Graham is a trickster. He got me up this morning by saying Farmer Simon had left breakfast outside my tent on a silver platter. I got up to find the brie and biscuits we had purchased yesterday. I phoned Julie and Chris of CJ's who live in nearby Ashurst to ask if they could bring coffee and take our rucksacks to East Grinstead which they kindly did. We set off a bit late to get to Hartfield where walkers were invited to join us. The walk was once again partly on roads and partly across fields. Progress was halted at Willets Dairy Farm where they make the most delicious icecream. Icecream for breakfast was a first for me. We got to Ashurst where amazingly Chris and Julie passed in their car and corrected the wrong turning we had just made. We were well behind time so had to race to Withyham and thens to Hartfield where 20 people greeted us with Union Jacks plus a photographer from the local paper. A number of friends who had joined me around the coast came to share the last lap. We lapped up the 4 miles to Forest Row where more joined at Annemarie's new tearoom. The last 3 miles I floated through mostly at the front of by then a throng of people when my youngest 2 children suddenly joined either side of me. Our arrival at East Grinstead was perfectly on time at 4.25pm. A team of people headed by Kaya and Graham had organised a finishing line and reception. I was presented with a very generous hamper of food from Cooks, 2 ex-mayors were there, many friends including Adrian who sang some appropriate songs with his guitar. We then all went to Sackville College where we enjoyed champagne and delicious strawberries and cream. It was a most wonderful welcome which I appreciated enormously and was a good ending to my walk. Graham was a wonderful companion for the last 3 days. I'm glad to have done the walk back to my hometown which would have been tough without him. I shall sleep tomorrow for as long as I want or need but intend to write one final blog tomorrow to round things off in what is bound to be a less tired state.

We suspect the site manager overheard my blog last night as first thing he offered us both coffee. To this was added half an oatcake each and half a pork slice from yesterday. The weather was good at first but during the course of our cross-country romp we experienced several weather fronts when the wind howled and there were short sharp showers. It was another 15 mile walk today. We had our first sight of the Sussex Weald as we trod part of the Greensand Way which looks over towards home territory. At the White Rock Inn in Underriver it was lunch time. This was a very pleasant experience with a home-grown cabaret as we watched our barman trying to cope with his feelings towards the waitress. His unrequited lust has been going on daily for a year and a half. The storms began over the next stretch to Leigh. It was time for Graham's £5 worth of his so-called umbrella to be tested which promptly inverted itself. Leigh was the first of two magnificent estates, quintessential English villages where the squires rule over all from the clergy down to the local publican. Penshurst was the next which also united us with the River Medway and gave an opportunity for Graham to witness the laying down of the songline. We had to find somewhere to eat and camp for the night. We chose to walk two miles south of Penshurst to the Bottle House Inn which Graham recommended for its culinary delights. As fate would have it whilst looking vacant outside the pub, Simon Fredericks stopped on his bicycle and asked if he could help. I said we were looking for somewhere to pitch our tents and were thinking about using the next field. At this point he revealed that we was in fact the owner of the field. So tonight we find ourselves guests of the local squire, camping on the edge of a five-acre field. The pub provided excellent fare. Tomorrow is a big day and definitely the last my knee is capable of enduring. I'm looking forward to it.

It was an eventful day as predicted. The double room in Gravesend at £38 was a bargain and made up for the expensive night in Cooling though it was them who had told me about it. The house was in front of a huge new mosque and close to the railway line but neither affected us. We met Graham in Wetherspoons at 9:30 for breakfast. There was already heavy drinking going on by elderly gentlemen who took our comfortable seats before we had actually finished with them. Sitting outside though gave us a glimpse of Thursday morning in Gravesend and the local population. It was not a picture of elegance or sophistication though the buildings suggest an oppulent past. We said goodbye to Kaya who went off to work in London and immediately got lost. This was quite an achievement since we were already on the A227 heading south but chose to go onto another road. Graham had spent a long time planning the route so his confidence took an early knock but we did see some nice houses and climbed up and down the only hill in town. To make up time we stayed on the A227 to get across the motorway and cross-channel railway. From then on everything went absolutely to Graham's plans as we walked sometimes on quiet lanes and sometimes on paths or byways passing Hartley and Ash, over the M20, down the North Downs, over the M26 and into Ightham where we had a delightful, very reasonably priced meal in the excellent George & Dragon. There was one particularly enchanting byway called Wise Lane which the farmer at the end of the lane suggested had been created by generations going from his farm to the pub. Another road was intriguingly called Labour in Vain Road. Our destination was Oldbury Woods campsite. We were losing light by 8 o'clock when we left the pub with still over a mile to go. We did not know that that mile was up and down a steep hill or that the road gave way to a muddy track through dense woodland. I lent Graham my headtorch since he had failed to bring one but I did this with more grace than he deserved and made do with the tiny light on my watch. At the campsite the proprietor declined to make us coffee though the facilities were right behind him. He thought we ought to pay £20 but fortunately his wife came along and gave us the correct price of £13. Graham almost managed to get Ruth's tent up in the dark without my help which I was happy for him to do but I did a little in the end. Graham tells me the weather is quite clement though I would call it chilly. It was a cracking day.

Cooling held a fascination for Charles Dickens who loved the church and its graveyard. It is now sadly a redundant church but kept open for visitors. I visited Pip's grave and sang in the church. There is a remoteness to this area with two miles of marsh stretching down to the Thames. Those two miles would have been occasionally covered by the sea before the seawall was built. In the future it may be necessary to allow it to flood again if London needs saving from rising sea levels. There is a castle in Cooling, now owned and enjoyed by Jules Holland. He is obviously investing a lot in making it how he wants it to the benefit of everyone in the end. Cliffe is at the end of the 133 bus route from Rochester. Kaya arrived at 11:17am and Robert not long after having taken a taxi from Higham station. Our little group was complete and ready after a cup of coffee from the Five Bells pub. The walk into Gravesend was round a lot of flooded gravel pits, along sea walls, past 19th century forts, an army rifle range and a police training centre where they trained for urban riot control and football hooligans, before hitting the fringes of Gravesend. Kaya and I were able to look across the Thames to where we had walked the first day of this journey, memorably getting lost on a huge landfill site and subsequently escorted off by security guards. There was about a mile of ghastliness before getting to the ferry crossing to Tilbury. We passed a run-down pub surprisingly still used by clientele perhaps clinging on to something from long ago. It reminded me of a similar scene on entering Liverpool through the now redundant docks. Robert kept us well entertained throughout with his keen observations and dry humour, which I always enjoy. Keeping me going was the finishing line which we got to at 4:25pm and where Mary and Dil met us. We got straight onto the 4:30pm ferry. We were all singers so they joined me in singing our way across the last river. Before disembarking, Mary and Dil magically produced a bottle of chilled bubbly. The cork landed far into the fulness of the Thames and we drank. We went hastily up to the actual starting point at the end of the pier and did a photoshoot of Kaya and I in 2009, which we can put alongside the April 2007 photo. Back in Gravesend we sat at the foot of the splendid bronze sculpture of Princess Pocohontas in St George's churchyard and finished the bottle. Kaya and I went to find our lodgings whilst the others went back to London. At 7:30pm we were in Wetherspoons being treated to a splendid meal which Head Office in London had kindly arranged. Thank you Wetherspoons! Tomorrow Graham Stevens, picture framer supreme will arrive here. He and I are to walk for three days to East Grinstead sleeping for the two nights under canvas. There is to be something of a civic reception on entering East Grinstead between 4:00 snd 4:30 on Saturday so I shall keep the blog going for a bit longer. I have a strong feeling the walk with Graham will be eventful!

I was worried last night and this morning by the state of my knee. It seems to be saying that I'd given it hell so now it was payback time. I hobbled down the gentle slope to the cathedral. The West Door was open and the priest was about to offer a public prayer when Shereen rang. Shereen is responsible for the cream which I put on my feet each evening after showering and which has kept them in fine order throughout the trip. She was, on this occasion, interested in contacting Wetherspoons to tell them what a feature they have been in my blogs and would they like to reciprocate in some way. I was happy for her to go ahead and have since heard that they would love to have fed me in all their many locations - more anon, perhaps. I saw a shooting star last night over the Medway, the only one I'd seen this year. Downhearted about my knee, I took the 191 bus for an hour and a half as it went down to Allhallows-by-the-Sea and to the Isle of Grain. From Allhallows I got a good view across to Southend and at Grain the power station and lots of stuff connected with the National Grid. It was an odd area but I was glad to see it. Eventually, at Hoo, I did my shopping at the Co-op and Hoo News. I had met Ricky yesterday in Hoo News and, on entering, saw his picture outside on the lottery poster. On asking him why, he told me that from his shop there has been more lottery winners than anywhere else in the country, so they had put his picture in their advertising. I invested £1 in tomorrow's draw to try my luck. I went for a cup of tea in the pub opposite where I could not help noticing a note pinned on the board saying that anyone who used Hoo News should check their change as two people claimed to have been cheated. I was getting to know more about Hoo than I could have expected so I left to follow the poorly marked Saxon Shore Way path and to try out my walking. Amazingly, as I got into a groove and accelerated to my present maximum speed of 2 1/2 miles an hour, my knee relented and allowed me to walk surprisingly easily. It was only eight miles to Cooling where I had booked a room in the Horseshoe & Castle pub. The charge for the room was a staggering £45, more than I had paid the whole trip and this is the last night. This could not be so I did a deal with Nessy, who is on duty, that I would pay my maximum of £40 plus £5 if she would do my washing - she agreed. I had an excellent cod and chips but had to barter further for the chef to cook me breakfast at 8:30am as that was not included in the price. This is the village where Charles Dickens loved the church and where Pip visits the graveyard at the beginning of Great Expectations. Many people used to die of the marsh fever. Nowadays, above the marsh grow plentiful apples and pears with lots of horses between the two. Tomorrow, Kaya and Robert Summerling will be walking the last day with me. We are to arrive in Gravesend at 4pm before taking the ferry to Tilbury and there celebrating the end of 4,500 miles of walking!

Magees' B&B I was fortunate to stay in in Rochester and I have to thank the contract worker who was away for the weekend. It was very basic but the TV worked well and actually had a remote which many places don't. Landlords claim they get nicked, which seems an odd thing to take. I had hoped to base myself in Rochester for a further two nights but by late morning I could find nothing so took it as a sign that perhaps I had done my time here. After breakfast therefore, I crossed the bridge into Strood and checked out a further five pubs but they were all full of contractors. I at last discovered the problem. The power station just beyond Hoo is being upgraded so there is an army of workmen all requiring long-term accommodation which they can get for as little as £13.50 a night. I had to walk inland after Upnor where there is an impressive castle, as the tide was right up. I passed some boys going into the woods. As part of their adventure camp they were going to build a camp using only what they found in the woods and sleep in it. I wondered if I would be doing the same. I went down to the marina at Hoo where I had heard that a houseboat called Captain Webb may offer accommodation. It didn't but I did get to look around the very nice remote marina, despite its proximity to the power station. There was absolutely no accommodation in Hoo. I did not fancy sleeping under a hedge at this stage of the trip without even a sleeping bag so caught a bus back to Rochester. On the bus I tried a few numbers from Medway's tourist brochure. Mr Sheik at no. 88 Borstal Road said to phone again at 7:30 when he may have something. It was my only option. I returned to, yes, you guessed, Wetherspoons to fill in the time with a burger and chips which on Monday nights is only £3.99 with a pint of beer and at 7:30 was delighted to be given a room by Mr Sheik. He is a very nice man whose parents had moved from Pakistan to Kenya and then he to England. He has a mansion where I am presently sat on the verandah enjoying a wonderful view of the River Medway. Forty-two miles away, at the source of the river, is East Grinstead and Liz who is putting this blog onto the website. Thanks Liz! Two days till Gravesend and the first finishing line!

My last day off. Three days march now to Gravesend. Pilgrims of old used to reckon on one days march to do the 30 miles from London to Rochester and 2 to 3 days to get to Dover from London. To walk away from your home area long ago you needed a passport from your local bishop otherwise you were considered a 'rogue' and sent home. Rochester has a house near the cathedral set up by John Watts to house 6 poor travellers. I have tried to stay there last night but it is now just for tourists to visit. The small rooms had just a bed, chair and fireplace. My room at Magees B&B is different only in that it has in addition a sink and a TV. i spent my day off substancially in Wetherspoons which fed my physical needs and the Cathedral which fed the rest of me. Sorry to go on about Wetherspoons but they do as good an English breakfast as anywhere which I had in their very pleasant garden reading the Sunday Times and then tis evening the most excellent roast lamb for £8 something which included a glass of Merlot (Alan Keen, please note). I wish I had approached Wetherspoons about sponsorship but though in a sense they have. The cathedral I like as much if not more than any other. Twice, out Moving Festivals have sung in the crypt and upstairs provided me with one of the biggest musical experiences conducting a cast of over 400 performers in Karl Jenkins' 'The Armed Man' back in 2003. Evensong was well sung by the Chancel Singers and then an organ recital given by a very excellent organist from North Germany who played Vidor's Toccatta faster than I have ever heard it. I enjoyed exploring the area to the south of the cathedral where the monks used to have one of Kent's many vineyards. I have at last made contact with the elusive Graham Stevens who is going to walk with me from Gravesend to East Grinstead to plan a route. This time next week I shall be in my own bed which I am looking forward to as much as I am sure you are able to get.

It may have been a smart operation at my B&B in Upchurch but, if that if the atmosphere is not so good. Everything about the place was perfect, well ordered and very confortable. Breakfast was fresh fruit salad, then kippers, then croissant which was great but with beautiful rugs over the floors and masked women over the loo was it really necessary to put Post It notes all over the place saying, 'Lock the door', 'Return your key', 'No food in the room', and then the expected to complete a form which fished for compliments. The channel of the River Medway winds itself between mud and marsh. I walked it last time with lots of singers including a party from Holland who had wanted to walk round every possible seawall singing in a few carefully chosen churches. One of those was Gillingham Parish Church which I wanted to visit again for here was the church where John Adams had come from. John Adams was a seaman who was shipwrecked off Japan in the 17th century. He was rescued by the Japanese and is revered there having saved and founded the Japanese Navy. The church was locked and sad looking so I walked up to the market, bought a pasty and a coffee and sat on a bench observing third world England. The Medway towns of Gillingham (Army), Chatham (Navy) and Rochester all join together as the Medway town. I had planned to stay at Gillingham Youth Hostel until I found it was mild inland so chose to head for Rochester to find a nice place to enjoy my day off. This was not so easy as many hostelries are permanently used by the Social Services and B&Bs are not allowed to advertise themselves to passing traffic such as me. I have ended up in a hostelry mostly frequented by contract workers so Saturday night was a good time to arrive. The cathedral closed at 5pm but I shall visit tomorrow. I'm in Wetherspoons where half a chicken is served up with a large glass of wine for less than £8.00. Dickens would have loved Wetherspoons where your common man can be witnessed enjoying himself protected by very large gentlemen at the door. A large group of ladies dressed as rabbits were outside having a photoshoot and subsequently allowed in as I was (with Brolly). If I was asked where on my travels hit the nerve centre of where Britain is at right now, I suspect Rochester would be close. I saw Southend today which for the first time made me feel I was nearly there.

I was altogether more buoyant today being happier walking a decent 13 miles. I got the bus back to Sittingbourne from Conyer. There are 800 people living in Conyer but it has no shop, no post office and a pub with To Let signs on it. Young people have nothing to do. They used to smash the glass of the telephone kiosk but they can't even do that since BT has given up replacing it. The bus was quite full but only one person paid for the trip. It seems there are many people in Sittingbourne on welfare and one whole estate is given over to young single mothers. I read the local paper for Sheerness whilst having coffee. There were many references to the vile stench which is driving the locals crazy and holidaymakers away. Road deaths, people getting stuck in the mud and call-outs by the emergency services all featured as they probably do every week. The Saxon Shoreway Path, which I am following, is appallingly marked. I was lucky to find my way back to the west side of the creek. There is heavy industry all the way down to Ridham Dock including the massive paper mill at Kemsley and a massive new Morrisons depositary, coloured in shades of blue. I could not walk under the bridges going to Sheppey as the tide was in. The next three miles were round the Chatney Marshes, which is a very lonely corner. Nearby are two massive power stations, Sheerness and the Isle of Grain and large ships crossing the landscape in the River Medway. On the marshes large flocks of starlings and Canada geese are gathering ready for the off. I didn't blame them when it poured with rain for half an hour. The wind was fierce so that my fingers went numb - the day before yesterday had been the hottest day of the year! Lower Halstow has a population of 1500 and no shop but you can find one a mile up the road in Upchurch. I took the long way round the coast where there are surprisingly large barges up the smallest of creeks. It's an odd area. My landlady in Upchurch though runs a very smart operation so I am very comfortable. I had a very good and cheap meal at the local golf course which somewhat made up for the pricey B&B.

I feel myself winding down. It was an effort to even do the seven miles to Sittingbourne. Ok, I had loads of time but my legs were heavy and there was no rhythm. Landlord Bob cooked me a very good breakfast including black pudding in Conyer. Bob has only run the pub since last October and is packing up already having found it doesn't make enough money for the amount of work. It's a pity because his wife Claire was born in the village and loves it so I could see the intention. Bob is going back to work in communications in Iraq working two months on then one off. I was on the sea wall the other side of Conyer late morning after having enjoyed looking at some of the amazing barges which permanently reside here. Few people walk this stretch judging by the state of the path and I met no-one. The wind was up and so was the tide. The approach up Milton Creek is ghastly and with lots of new businesses and factories bore little resemblance to my 1994 map. I guessed wrong at one point and had to go back. Although it was not far it angered me as I generally make few such errors. Sittingbourne is bisected by the busy A2 whereas it is on the southern edge of Faversham. Faversham is delightful, Sittingbourne isn't. There is no pride in the town, it appears down-at-heel and worn out. There is no tourist information so I went to the Council offices to find there was only one expensive B&B and a Travelodge out of town. Clearly no-one wants to stay here. I knew Claire worked in the town so phoned Bob to ask if I could stay again and get a lift back with her. Within five minutes he rang back to say it was all fixed up so I rang Claire who said she'd pick me up outside the parish church. I had a couple of hours to kill so went to the library to find out the pub details in Lower Halstow where I shall be tomorrow. When I rang, the lady said none of the pubs in the area did accommodation bhut gave me the number of a B&B in the next village of Upchurch who I am able to stay with. I will have trouble again in Hoo and Cliffe, which I had in my schedule as wild camping. The visitors they have in this area come by boat and just visit the pubs for a drink. I met one such couple in the bar at Conyer tonight who have been sailing the east coast now for six weeks. There are no beaches any more so no more seaside B&Bs. The only tourist destination left now is Rochester, which I may have to use as a base for the last few days.

I have got overrelaxed lately. I slept in too long and only at breakfast did I look to see how far away Sittingbourne was. Shock horror, I wasn't going as far as Sittingbourne, only to Conyer Quay where my schedule suggested wild camping but I had sent my camping gear home ages ago. I left Sue's house, thanking her for her kind hospitality. Donna-dog had kept her up till 2:00am being sick, didn't wake to say goodbye and, I hear, has been asleep all day. At age nine yesterday's walk was clearly too much. I asked Sue if she wanted to walk again today but was not surprised when she resigned herself to tired dogsitting. I went for a once round the cathedral, both upstairs and down in the crypt. I remembered the event at the end of our first Very Moving Festival, when all my four Pilgrim Hymns were sung in 1997 and then the fourth hymn sung by my Bromley Youth Choir upstairs as part of an international children's choir event. I went by train back to Faversham passing through the Kentish fruit orchards. I was finding it hard to seek out accommodation in Faversham so gave the pub in Conyer Quay a ring not expecting much. Landlord Bob didn't seem very keen to accommodate me, perhaps because he's giving up the pub in a week's time, but he said ok and has turned out to be both pleasant and helpful. I called in to my second shrine of today, St Jude's in Faversham. Allan from Margate had suggested visiting but it was a rather obscure place housed in what had previously been a Quaker school, then cinema, then Whitefriars Catholic church. I eventually left Faversham at 5:00pm, which sounds ridiculous but it was only a seven mile walk and this was the hottest day of the year. I got back to the coast at the Harty Ferry, turned left into the setting sun and plodded on the seawall between the Swale estuary and the North Kent marshes. It was utterly quiet, its remoteness beguiling. I love this lonely, bleak landscape. The pub in Conyer Quay I had visited before in 2001 with Steve and Paul on our last Moving Festival together, when we walked the other way from Gravesend to Hastings performing to and with schools who sometimes walked with us. Walking the path again I often think of those wonderful days, especially on this north coast. The weather is scheduled to change tomorrow. An ex-police Alsatian is watching me write this blog outside the pub. He was kicked out of the police force after having failed the aggression test I'm pleased to say!

Today was somewhat improvised. After waking in Sue's house in Canterbury I suggested she walk with me to Faversham. She and Donna, her utterly adorable guide dog were ready very quickly. We took the bus down to Whitstable, bought a couple of salmon sandwiches in the absence of crab, plus a pot of marinated octoput which we downed surreptitiously with a coffee before setting off. The elusive Robert Summerling was hotfooting it down from London to join us for the day. We walked on slowly almost to the Sportsman's Arms, past Seasalter and waited for him to catch up. We hid from the heat of the day at the aforementioned pub reckoning we had plenty of time. In fact the walk to Faversham takes you on a very roundabout route up the windy creek and was much further than we had anticipated. The overgrown vegetation slowed us down on a stretch which is clearly not walked by many people. Highlights of the day were the variety of beach huts, the house being built over an existing house and a boat being renovated within a boat well up the creek. The tide was well out as we approached Faversham so the creek was all mud. There was a lot of boat restoration going on at the harbour and a pub which we were more than happy to patronise. We were in the home of Shepherds Neame Brewery, the oldest in the country. Robert, who had been his usual entertaining self all afternoon, caught the train back to London and Sue and I back to Canterbury. Poor Donna had not eaten all day so ate something off the floor of the train. It was a bad move as it made her feel sick. In such a situation it appears she goes into the garden and eats grass in order to throw up. We ordered an Indian meal which we enjoyed despite Donna still behaving strangely. So I have an unexpected third night in Canterbury staying with a friend of a friend who is now definitely a friend. Robert is intending to come down to walk the last day with me, having been there on the last day of the first year way up at Cape Wrath. I have to go down one creek, round another, and up yet another to get to Sittingbourne tomorrow. Another very hot day.

I cannot believe how kind the weather has been for some time now. The last wet day was way back at Littlehampton so most of Sussex and all of Kent has been not just dry but hot and sunny as today was. It was the shortest of walks today, less than six miles so we did everything at leisure, beginning with breakfast. Sue and her guide dog joined Jean and I travelling down on the 4A bus from Canterbury back to Herne Bay. It was one of those endless bus journeys that went round the houses showing us such places as Greenhill, which I would never have chosen to visit and would not choose to again. Herne Bay has a peculiar pier. It is now very short with an unattractive bowling alley on it. Way out at sea is the other end, the long stretch between having been dismantled. I learnt a lot about guide dogs today and their amazing abilities. Donna is a lovely dog but she chose today to be less than perfect, running off and getting lost, and doing more sniffing than she is trained to do. It is built up almost all the way to Whitstable. The brief stretch where it isn't has a notice saying "Naturism is not condoned here" which was certainly being obeyed today. At Whitstable the tide was at its lowest so we were able to walk out to sea along the sandbank known as Whitstable Street. Many people were enjoying the same walk with the sea so calm, especially to the east. We had the most delicious fresh, cool crab sandwich at one of the several fresh fish cafes by the harbour. Old fishermen's huts have been converted into expensive dwellings for hire but the climax was visiting an old oyster yawl called Favourite, built in 1890 for Sue's great great grandfather, Edward Carden, which is exhibited in its own back yard above the shingle. We caught the bus back and before long were consuming cockles, mussels, crayfish and anchovies purchased near the harbour. It was but the prelude to an excellent three-course meal consumed in Sue's garden with occasional bell interludes from Big Harry in the cathedral.

Yesterday's blog was a little brief - the fact is it was done in haste as Allan (pronounced in a French way) and his reiki partner Yoko from Tokyo had offered to perform a healing session on my knees and I was keen to see what would happen. Yoko was finding it hard to stay awake on my left knee - I've never personally been bored with my left knee as she clearly was. Allan was on my right knee but he, I felt, was rather distracted by the music and the company which consisted of a born-again man from Kyoto who was snoring, Yoko's 8-year-old daughter who would have been better in bed and another lady who was trying to be as quiet as possible. I went up and down the stairs to try my knees out but there were no miracles around. The most spectacular thing about last night was the sunset and afterglow over the seascape which had inspired Turner. Today was hot yet again. Having turned the corner and now walking into the sun, there are a string of beaches on the north side of Thanet which are quite beautiful, surrounded by an abundance of beach huts. There were some very brown bodies adorning the beach presumably purchased from further south. I love the remote stretch across the Wantsom Channel fashioned by the monks of Reculver which you see in the distance but take ages to get to. I was walking well - Allan and Yoko had certainly done something and soon I was overtaking people towards Herne Bay and partaking of a huge Italian icecream. Jean Bentley met me and we drove in her open-top MG Midget to Sue's house in Canterbury, where I am staying. We had an excellent wild salmon for supper and copious amounts of wine which hopefully have made this blog flow beautifully. A lovely day.

Sandwich was very good to me - I could easily have got very comfortable there and it was something of a wrench to leave on the bus back to Ramsgate. Today I have been able to see all the east side of Thanet which they tend to consider as one large conurbation. The main towns of Ramsgate, Broadstairs and Margate are all joined by a string of houses all along the coast. It was yet another very hot day and an almost cloudless sky. I found Ramsgate to be vibrant, Broadstairs was probably the busiest beach I've seen on all the coast, and Margate frankly baffling. I walked for quite a way on the beach whilst the tide was out, beneath the white cliffs, then along Cycle Route 15, called The Viking Way. The cycle network is much better marked than the footpaths since Sustrans had a bundle of money thrown at it in 2000 as a millennium project. I had very good directions from Allan Sweeney as to how to get to his retreat in Margate, called Heaven by the Sea. I am staying in his so-called India room, which he has meticulously prepared to give it an Indian atmosphere. I chose it in preference to the Angel room, which he also offered me. Allan is a phenomenon who I will not describe yet for every minute in his company springs new surprises. More anon.

Having the luxury of staying in the same comfortable surroundings for three nights has been a huge help at this stage of the walk. I have had the opportunity to recharge my batteries ready for the last lap - it has felt like a bit of a summer holiday really! Ramsgate was only a seven-mile walk away so I was in no hurry and partook of the excellent breakfast pastries available in No Name Cafe while reading The Times in Kate's slate-paved little garden. Across the River Stour is the enormous Pfizer factory which make the wonder pills I am now taking and made walking today definitely easier. On the other side of the factory past the huge cooling towers of the old power station is the Island of Thanet. Here in Pegwell Bay St Augustine landed on his mission to bring Roman christianity to Britain. On a glorious day like today, with the tide out, the huge bay looked magnificent. Not having rucksack to carry meant I could walk bare topped to show some sun to more than just my very tanned legs and forearms. The Red Devils did a dramatic fly past which I caught above a field with one of those enormous combine harvesters - wonderful! Ramsgate was great. They are doing up a fine terrace of Regency houses just before Cliff End. Then there were bowling greens, croquet pitches and entertainment for all the family provided by the Alpha Course Christians before entering Ramsgate itself. There are some very fine properties in Ramsgate and a great deal of work going on to restore them. It seems a happening place. There is still a ferry and a busy marina. I had tea, then caught a bus back to Sandwich. I had been invited for supper by Jan and Tony Cooper, who live four doors down the High Street from Kate and Simon's house. Jan cooked a splendid meal and Tony regaled me with many interesting short stories which he wove magically into the conversation. Tony is a professional storyteller - it was a great evening.

You may expect me to say I had a lie in this morning but no, I was up making an appointment with the local doctor. At last night's dinner was close neighbour, Jan, who on hearing about my knee problem recommended getting a prescription for Arthotec 50, which she had taken for her joint problems and has been leaping about ever since. She did not demonstrate this phenomenon but at 3:20pm I was called before a Greek doctor on locum duty. He was intrigued to be involved in my project and listened carefully as he bent and straightened my impressively tanned right leg. He was happy to prescribe 60 of the tablets but reckoned I would need an arthrosectomy operation on completion of the walk. Kate showed me the town briefly before she and Simon had to go back to Sussex as her son was visiting. She has kindly left me use of the house for two more nights since it is easy to get back here from Ramsgate, which is only a few miles away. After picking up my prescription I walked at a very leisurely speed around Sandwich on a path which used to be defensive walls. What a delightful town this is. It has been very involved from way back in national and international affairs. Thomas Paine was a local who wrote political pamphlets in the 18th century which influenced both the French and American revolutions and then was involved in helping write the famous American Constitution in 1787. On The Butts archers trained before sailing to France for the Battle of Agincourt - it is now still well used but as a cricket pitch. There are beamed houses galore along The Strand, which runs parallel to the old harbour. Alas the shore is now a good distance away. Much of the new land is now excellent golf courses. The town is a venue for many tourists who could easily give two days to visiting Sandwich and Canterbury. I had excellent seabass at the George & Dragon but whilst happily reading the newspaper. The dragon appeared in the shape of a not unattractive but very drunk lady who persuaded herself I should have company. I drew my sword several times in self defence and would have been tempted to use it if she had followed me into the graveyard where I made a call to Margate to book in to a retreat called Heaven by the Sea for Saturday night. The curfew bell did toll tonight at 8pm and continues chiming every quarter of an hour as I sit in Kate's delightful garden under the cloudy sky which obscures any chance of seeing meteor showers.

By good fortune my very good friends Simon and Kate Crosby have recently bought a house in Sandwich and had invited me to stay so it was only a matter of walking an extra five miles from Deal to get to them. I sat on a bench in Dover having a coffee and taking in the scene whilst at the same time reading the local newspaper. This told me that the main issues in Dover are people trafficking and drugs and tobacco, none of which surprised me. Folkestone and Dover, as close neighbours with common interests, have long been in competition. Of the two I found Dover the more interesting and with more of a sense of purpose. I met many walkers up on the cliffs overlooking the harbour. St Margaret's Bay is the nearest point to France - a mere 21 miles which confused my mobile phone so that I was twice welcomed to France. There were many expensive houses on the high road I took out of St Margaret's to avoid going down to the bay where cross-channel swimmers traditionally take off from. It is a very pleasant walk down into Kingsmere where there are lovely houses built along the top of the shingle beach. There were lots of wasps out today, the weather being rather humid and still. Walmer Castle I passed, which I have visited before but I particularly enjoyed walking into Deal with its fishing boats on the beach and fine houses along the promenade. I had arranged to meet Kate by the pier who was there waiting at a cafe with her bicycle and dog, Millie. Kate is a very energetic lady and had already cycled five miles to Deal and had a swim before walking back the same route with me. Rucksack and brolly had a ride in her bicycle basket as we walked the length of three links golf courses into the lovely ancient town of Sandwich. There was my friend of many years, Simon, unhappy at walking with an aggravated septic toe but well able to sustain an evening of excellent conversation over a splendid meal. We did this in the garden the better to hear the tolling bell which chimed for ten minutes after eight o'clock to tell the people to take in their pigs, a tradition that goes back a long time. Tonight the curfew bell for some reason did not toll. We had fun anyway.

TOM'S HOMECOMING

As you are all aware, Tom has been walking along the coastline of Great Britain over the past 3 summers. He is now coming very close to finishing. He started the walk from Tilbury and will arrive there on Wednesday 26 August but from there he will be walking back home to East Grinstead! His arrival date in East Grinstead is Saturday 29 August and we would like to make it a warm welcome for him.

Graham Stevens from the Gallery will be walking all the way from London to East Grinstead with Tom, but we would like to celebrate his achievement by having as many people as possible to join him on the last leg. Here are points where you could join.

1pm The Anchor Inn, Church St. Hartfield
(01892 770424 for reservations if you would like to have lunch before your walk)

3pm Station Rd. Forest Row
(front of Leisure Centre by the Recycling facilities)

OR

If you would like to welcome him at the finishing line in East Grinstead
4 - 4.30pm High St. East Grinstead
(paved area in front of Broadleys)

and
4.30pm ~ 6.00pm celebrate on the green at Sackville College with some bubbly and Fish and Chips!

This will be a short celebration with a view to inviting everyone for 1 October 7.30pm at Chequer Mead 'Speakers Corner' where Tom will be giving his presentation on his epic journey.

It was wonderful to share a couple of days with my youngest daughter Alys, now 23. We were late for breakfast so were presented with very sad looking eggs and bacon. We were staying but 50 yards from the splendid Lees Cliff Hall, built into the cliff overlooking the sea. Fifteen years ago I conducted a cast of hundreds in a performance of Yanamamo in which she took part as an 8-year-old so we went in briefly to reminisce. The weather was rather dull as we did a few things in town including a leisurely coffee. To get to Dover we had to climb up the cliff above what is known as The Warren. The cliffs are in danger of collapsing further onto the railway line below along the stretch where there is an impressive RAF memorial to the Battle of Britain. The weather cleared and it became very hot but less sticky. France became clearly visible from Shakespeare Cliff on which the blind King Lear had stood but not able to enjoy as we did. The path runs close to the busy main road full of lorries going to and from Dover docks. Out at sea the Channel was busy with shipping traffic. I was on reasonably familiar territory in Dover but had not needed to find lodgings before. Alys went on a bus back to Hythe to pick up her car. I checked out a few places and ended up in a B&B by the station, run by Cypriot Lazarus and his wife. I anticipate sleeping well but will hopefully wake like Lazarus. Weatherspoons provided me with a large steak and a beer for less than £7. Wonderful. It feels like there is little to no cartilage left in my right knee which becomes increasingly uncomfortable.

Marion, my hostess, generously only charged me £30 for dinner, bed and breakfast. She then allowed me to stay in her house alone until ready to leave. Alys arrived at 11.30. We had a lengthy coffee whilst the weather was mildly sunny before setting off at a leisurely speed to do the brief six miles from Hythe to Folkestone. She had chosen the easiest of days by chance. It was a totally flat walk with the wind behind us. We sat on the shingle beach as the tide reached its peak and the weather deteriorated. The wind got up as we turned the corner leaving Dungeness behind us and seeing Folkestone before us. Following the seafront brought us to the harbour and the reality of Folkestone's present state. Gone are the ferry boats and only a few fishing boats use the harbour to supply the fresh fish stalls. I had a crab sandwich but neither of us were into whelks, cockles or clams. Alys wanted fish and chips which we ate down a side alley where a policewoman was reprimanding the daughter whose mother worked in the chip shop. Children playing asked for money with the ease of street kids. The whole area was depressed and uncared for. So too were the streets around the harbour. Up in the town was only a little better. We were entertained by young men dressed as girls in short skirts who were eventually pursued by community support officers as one too many of the group exposed themselves in public. We found a hotel which suited us on The Lees overlooking the sea with a large balcony. As the sun went down it was illuminated by shocking purple light. When it came to eating there were very few places available but were fortunate in the Italian restaurant we found which produced perfectly reasonable tasting pizzas.

My hostess I had to rouse in order to pay her. She had the same clothes on as last night and confessed to having been up talking till 3.30am. I suspect she slept in the bar. I found breakfast in the George Hotel which had a large bronze statue of a horse on a vast plinth out the back. I remembered Kaya telling me of a large horse recently stolen from a private house so I asked about it. The landlord said he was looking after it for a friend who had moved. Someone had paid £25,000 only to find it was a fake. I had no intention of walking the 4 miles from Lydd to Dungeness. After 10 minutes of hitching I got a lift from Paddy and Helen who are both artists journeying home to their cottage right next to the lighthouse which was amazingly exactly where I wanted to go. I was invited in to look at their studio and ended up buying a set of 3 prints of an old fisherman's hut abandoned on the shingle and oddly twisted by the wind. We had tea, we did business, I was gifted a banana, an apple, went to visit the remains of the hut and eventually started the 15 mile walk to Hythe. After an hour and a half I was at Littleton just down from New Romney where I had arranged to meet Tim Leeney, his wife Olga and her daughter Barbara. What an entertaining afternoon I had. Meeting Olga is like getting tangled in a whirlwind. Within 5 minutes planns had changed 5 times. Within another 5 minutes we had gone by car to the nearest pub where she and Barbara ordered Sunday roast. Tim ate all of hers, she ate a litte of Barbara's and then ate the bread she had brought from Forest Row bakery. Barbara brought a touch of Cambridge elegance to the coastline promenading in a hat and dark glasses and would not have looked out of place at the Canne Festival. Tim is an expert mountaineer so the flat landscape and endless promenade was probably not his idea of an adventure but compensated by his as always adventurous conversation. They put in a few miles then left. There are massive new sea defences after Dymchurch then the army takes over and I had to walk along the busy road to Hythe. The army have been in Hythe since the farcical days of the Military Canal which continues to Folkestone. They have been doing shooting practice here for 200 years! I thought Hythe would have a string of B&Bs along the seafront - in fact there was precisely 1 which was full. I was guided to Moyle house where I arrived axhausted. Within an hour of arrival I had had a hot bath and a 3 course meal during which I discovered my hostess, Marion had a lot of connections with Forest Row and her husband is area representative of Making Music who are the official body which protects the interests and wellbeing of amatuer music on a regional basis. We had much to talk about. Great weather.

Not a long walk today and very flat. The fact that I am so tired is down to my knee which is getting more and more sensitive. My lodgings in Rye were unusual. There were 2 themes in the house, Audrey Hepburn and Buddha. I was pleased with what must have been the cheapest rate in town at £30.00 B&B (from £35.00), but if you have to wait half an hour for your room to be ready, sure thing it's an alfresco situation. I like the eccentricity except for the matress on the single bed every spring of which I could feel. Every fitting in the house was botched, for instance, after midnight I thought someone was breaking in so went downstairs to investigate. I approached the back door and the sound stopped. I opened the door, the bolt came off in my hand and a dog ran in and up the stairs. I went to the loo where the light wouldn't turn off, then back to my room where I could not lock the door, there were no TV controls and only the hot tap worked in the sink. Everywhere I went a framed photo of Audrey Hepburn watched me - it was great fun and easily worth £30. Rye is something of a toytown which lives off its past which is as far away as the sea. It is a worthwile tourist destination with Winchelsea nearby and Romney Marsh for those who are interested in remoteness. I strode down onto the marsh and after 3 miles was on the abundantly sandy Camber Snads which were packed out with families and young children. The blob of humanity was thickest by the car park and cafes. I walked along the sea edge feeling very out of place dodging children playing and building sand castles. The tide was up so I took to the sea wall. The sandy beach soon turned to shingle. The army were out on their range so I had to circumnavigate it on the cycle path to Lydd. Lydd fascinates me. I knew it from visiting the church when it was one of several marsh churches which had art exhibitions in it years ago. Now I view it as a laast town on the edge of a remote area and felt the same feelings as I had in St. Just in Cornwall - a feeling of liberation where anything goes - home rule - it's own law and order. I found the Royal Mail with new landlords who have only been in a week. I had to wait for a room to be prepared - it was their last with no TV and dirty windows. However, for £20 I had the room, a hot bath and all my washing done. My landlady's father is in the Guinness Book of Records for having circumnavigated mainland Britain in a rubber dinghy with an outboard motor in 1976 in 6 weeks. He had raised £25,000 for the RNLI who had hosted him on his journey. I've listened to a bit of Johnny Scrotum and the Muckspreaders who are performing live tonight. The local newspaper tells of a man who had an extra terrestrial experience on the marsh and of a new travelling cinema called Flick in the Sticks whihc will save people from here going to Ashford. The weather was very hot today.

Rye is 2 miles beyond Winchelsea which was my scheduled walk for today but Kaya had to catch a train back home from Rye where there is more going on and places to stay. Jenny Linds Pub in Hastings where we had stayed did not serve breakfast so we went out and bumped into the soprano who had been performing last night in the street and who had been in the next room with her partner, manager, technician, driver, all rolled into one ample frame. She was off to do a Victorian evening in the Isle of Wight next, one of her 200 gigs a year dressed at breakfast in full regalia of hat, curled hair, lavish make-up, floral dress, heels and was there a parasol?! They seemed ill at ease after he'd just picked up a parking ticket. Almost everyone was dressed up in Hastings as pirates in anticipation of the parade later in the day. Our walking clothes felt less out of place in this happening town though young girls often stare open mouthed at Kaya being more used to pirates than a beautiful Japanese lady carrying a rucksack! The local paper was full of photos of people having fun, local arts projects, drug related crime and an irrate letter from a lady complaining about the person who had written to complain about seagulls. I was sad to find the electric lift going up the steep cliff by the fisherman's huts was not working. The ranger who happened to be right there said it has been struck by lightning years ago and never been repaired. A pity since I knew the 4 miles to Fairlight were very hard work. It is the start of the Saxon Shore Way which I had done in 2001 as our last Very Moving Festival, the other way round so it had been the end. I remember it being exceptionally hard work but at the time I did not know that the arteries going down to my legs were badly blocked. Up until 5 years ago I could not walk more than 100 yards without having to stop and wait for the blood to get down below my hips. I passed the hospital in Brighton the other day where they had in 10 minutes cure the problem and offered thanks. I wonder if they do knees? After the hills the landscape completely flattened out as we walked along the Military Canal. Winchelsea is an odd place having been played tricks by both history and geography. Spike Milligan was buried in the graveyard in 2002. He wrote his own epitaph for his tombestone in Gaellic which translates ' I told you I was ill!'. Rye is the gateway to Romney Marsh on which I look forward to spending the next 2 days. It provided me with a splendid Indian meal tonight.

We both had delicious kippers for breakfast before going to the Towner Gallery. The gallery used to be located elsewhere and only moved to its new premises adjoining the theatre, which isn't the Winter Gardens, in April. Kaya liked the building more than the exhibits. We saw 40 pictures chosen by local people from the 4,000 in their collection. This covered the gallery from such reasonable criticism as parochialism. 20/20 would have been more interesting but Eastbourne is a tennis town. We eventually left Eastbourne after another cup of coffee and soon hit the massive new housing development around the harbour to the east. It was hot, damned hot, with only the occasional hint of a breeze. I photographed each martello tower as we passed, which amounted to about seven today. We were forced to walk on shingle beaches approaching Pevensey Bay where William the Conqueror arrived in 1066. Private properties have gardens right down to the top of the beaches which are privately owned by them up to the high water mark preventing anything as useful as a path to the coastal walker. We stopped to call in on Garf and Gill who provided a much needed cool drink. The last time Kaya had met them was in a box at the Royal Albert Hall as I was supervising hundreds of Bromley schoolchildren on and around the stage. On to Bexhill where we caught the last ten minutes of their day at the Pavillion, which was quite enough time for the Joseph Beuys exhibition. I am sure the things which happened around him were very exciting but they don't translate into great stuff to exhibit. The concept behind the art is more important than the art itself (Kaya's sentence). We eventually found a cup of tea in Bexhill which, from what we saw, was rather sad and drab, except the art deco pavillion. The railway runs closer to the beach than the busy main road we were intending to walk. The shingle beaches had tired us and slowed our progress. Coupled with the ominous presence of dark clouds coming our way, we resorted for the last four miles to taking the train. Hastings has developed a great deal since I was last here in 2001. We walked into the Old Town looking for somewhere to stay and found ourselves walking up the historic high street into a cauldron of human activity. It is the week of the Historic Old Town Carnival and they are having a street party tonight. We found the last remaining room in the pub overlooking the live bandstand in the epicentre of noise and activity. The night is so hot that we have to have all the windows open but we like being in the middle of town. Having started the day with kippers we finished with traditional fish and chips in a local eating house.

I had the house to myself in Pevensey Bay as Garf and Gill had gone to London. It's hard finding what you need for breakfast in someone else's kitchen. It's very mild down here at the moment. Last night I lay on the shingle beach and gazed up at the altocumulos stratiformis duplicatus clouds. They were in the sky over London on Monday evening the Times Weather Eye recorded, so I'm guessing that the fluffy layer I was looking at was the same. In Eastbourne I did some shopping and checked into the new Wilmington Hotel. I was attracted to what the action movie Pelham 123 with Denzel Washington and John Travolta in the very attractive 1920s cinema, so I slipped into the 2:30pm show. It may seem odd to sit in a cinema when the weather is so good but I do live outdoors most of every day and it did turn out to be an extremely good film. But Kaya's National Express coach set off half an hour late from East Grinstead so I used the time to visit the excellent new Towner art gallery and watch some tennis on the grass courts beside the big grandstand which the gallery overlooks. I had read the local newspaper whose headline rejoiced in the fact that less elderly people are retiring to Eastbourne these days. There are still plenty but also there are swathes of young especially Spanish and French teenagers here to study English in what must be many language schools. There were three separate articles about people who had committed suicide at Beachy Head. The local coroner must have a most unenviable job! It was so mild that after supper Kaya and I sat on the shingle beach and enjoyed the moon over the sea with many others, some people still swimming in the sea. I like this town. The Dutch elm trees outside the hotel are only just coming down so have survived much longer than elsewhere. I do enjoy and need these days off. I have two more over the remaining three weeks before getting to Gravesend and journey's end. After that I have added three more days walking so I walk into East Grinstead where I shall cross a finishing line near my front door at 4:30pm on 29 August.

Jill had left before I got up and Garf had had his swim in the sea before I emerged for breakfast. Garf was chairman of the Bromley Youth Music Trust during my 6 years there as Director of Vocal Studies. He is one of those people who give little away but bit by bit you learn more and more how interesting, original and creative he is. I went back into Eastbourne on the bus, found a hotel for Kaya and I to stay in tomorrow and explored dentists but found none to look at my chipped tooth. The nearest emergency dental surgery is Hailsham which made me loose interest and anyway I had to get back to Seaford and walk 6 of the Seven Sisters to meet friends at Birling Gap. I was late before I even started from Seaford at 1pm giving myself 2 hours to get to them 7 miles away. If the tide had been right I could have crossed the beach where the river meets the sea at Cuckmere Haven so intead had to walk up to cross the Exeat Bridge to come back again. The weather was fine as I walked quickly to begin the chalk cliffs which are considered a hard walk for most but for me were nothing as a veteran of the Southwest Coast Path. I did the Six Sisters in 40 minutes which was precisely how late I was to meet Jean Bently, Roy Cakebread and his daughter, Jane, who I had stayed with way back in Bude. We enjoyed tea and each other's company for an hour before Jean and I walked on over Beachy Head to Eastbourne. Although Beachy Head is the highest point, the climb is gradual as we passed the lighthouse which is on rollers and which has been moved back from the eroding cliffs. Descending into Eastbourne, we were attacked by a multitude of flying ants who were aggrevatingly active as the evening became very mild and the wind dropped. Jean left and I got the bus on to Pevensy Bay where I am staying a second night and enjoying the full moon and the sound of the sea writing this blog on the veranda.

It was a memorable morning in Brighton. I had breakfast with Orlando and looked at some of Joanna's fantastic cashmere knitwear. They live in a lovely house just on the crack between Hove and Brighton. Orlando Gough has written the music which I have sung over the last 3 years either in churches, on beaches or this year, crossing rivers. We had a chance to sing through it after breakfast and I was relieved that what I have done with it is in accordance with how he had conceived it. I am hugely indepted to him for what he has provided me with and I hope it is special for him that his music through me has been the thread through which the 4,500 miles Songline has been created. It was further to the Kemp Town area of Brighton than I had thought so I was late for coffee with Natasha. I was married to Natasha for 5 years before Kaya. She has married again and has 2 lovely children who sadly I missed as they had gone to Drusilla's for the day. It was a gloriously sunny day as I left Brighton which as a seaside town had impressed me more than any other and there are not many to go. I passed Roedean and then St. Dunstan's where the oldest man in the country had died last week at the age of 113. He put his longevity down to whiskey, cigarettes and wild women! Peacehaven was a strange experience. I was hopefully reliably informed that it was built for servicemen after WW2 so the population has mostly changed. I crossed the Meridian which linked me with East Grinstead. Newhaven did not excite me. It was a quiet Monday afternoon but the town seemed sadly depressed. I sang across the RIver Ouse and ended the day's walk in Seaford. I had arranged to stay the night with Garf and Jill Collins in Pevensey Bay where they have a delightful holiday home right behind the shingle beach. We had an excellent dinner with a friend of theirs called Trish who played tennis and looked like Virginia Wade.

Ann and Brian dropped me off in Worthing on a bright fresh sunny day, perfect for walking. On the way, we stopped to look at a Catholic Church where the hanger-shaped curved ceiling had been hand-painted by a local man who had spent 5 years doing a copy of the Sistine Chapel. I looked around Worthing - well, at several cash machines before eventually squeezing £100 out of Alliance&Leicester, then visited Ambrose Place where Harold Pinter lived for a couple of years in a wonderful house. There were many people out enjoying the sun. It was 12 miles to Brighton which went quickly as I promenaded along the esplenade with the wind behind me. At Shoreham, the chapel of Lancing College looked splendid above the River Adur. I was expecting that but not seeing the row of houseboats in the mud at the harbour just before the footbridge. The boats are all very different - one large boat had a whole bus inserted into it with giant insect wings on the front. Everyone was very busy around their boats. I had to walk on a busy road for a bit between the river and a railway line where the river ddecides to turn east before entring the sea. You can get back onto the coast at Southwick which turns into Portslade which turns into Hove. Its a rather strange stretch with a supposedly private beach and a row of unusual white houses full of well-known people like Heather Mills and Des Lynham. Heather Mills has recently opened a vegan restaurant on the seafront which is probably at least frequented by the curious. There is a remote stretch where I had to carefully clamber over a stone groyne. I have to be careful and concentrate doing things like that now. I turned round as I landed safely to see 5 completely naked men posing on the rocks as if for a male Pirelli Calendar. I felt out of place with Rucksack and Brolly so strode off along the shingle rather than getting shingles from sitting naked on hot rocks! From the beginning of Hove, there is a wide esplenade with lots of all sorts of people. The Regency buildings are fantastic. The esplenade gets wider and wider with a wide expanse of grass as Hove becomes Brighton, more and more people, entertainers, a French market, and then the rusty old collapsed remains of what was once the West Pier. I rang Joanna to find where Sillwood Road was and within 2 minutes was with her and Orlando. We watched cricket, I bathed, then we had the most splendid meal of barbecued lamb which Orlando cooked whilst watching cricket. Despite loosing another bit of tooth on a peppercorn we had a great evening.

The bed that Ann and Brian put me in was so comfortable I found it hard to get out of it. There was no hurry today as I only had to walk about 8 miles to Worthing. Brian drove me back to where I had finished yesterday in Littlehampton which was the East Beach Cafe - an interesting piece of architecture which looks like a sculpture against the shingle beach. I loved it and its Battenberg cake though public opinion is apparently still mixed. The fact that it causes a reaction to my mind makes it a success. It started to drizzle as I started walking and proceeded to worsen to relentless rain which continued throughout the day. Still in Littlehampton I came across a mass of people dressed in white in the water. They were the Mount Zion Baptists from London who had come in coaches for baptism in the sea. Further on I met a lady with 2 Italian greyhound dogs which she had rescued from a dog home. She was rehabilitating them after a previous owner had badly abused them. They were extraordinary dogs which apparently the Romans used for hunting. The walk was along shingle beaches and privately owned grass verges called Grasscur which runs between the shingle beach and very desireable houses with lovely gardens. I had lunch in an excellent seaside cafe at Ferring before plodding through the incessant rain to Worthing Pier where there was a 700 bus waiting to take me back to Littlehampton and a second evening with Brian and Ann Timms. The weather affected everyone today - the test match - a wet last day at Goodwood and in Brighton the Gay Pride Rally. I shall be there tomorrow after what is supposed to be a better day. The weather as a phenomenon is being hotly discussed in the press as the forecasters had predicted a very good summer. I have become used to rain through July and August which has apparently historically often been the case. The fact that we are able to survive whatever comes our way is an important part of our National psyche. Everyone I passed today had a comment to make about the weather, all of which were humourous rather than downhearted. I reach the closest point to East Grinstead on this trip tomorrow when I reach Brighton.