Songline On Sea

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.