Cuthbert Remembers...Cuthbert Remembers...The 9th to 14th of August 2005 will be remembered by those on pilgrimage as a magical and deeply moving time. Good people, a wonderful sense of community and a good time had by all. Led all the way by Terry, trudging along like a latter day St Stephen and we all in his foot steps.
Chinham and Chartham to Canterbury, so they say in these parts, but why? I suppose its just the North Downs Way.
Kent in mid-Summer is all fruit and fresh smells and sunshine and huddled round the radio for the cricket scores. Willing Freddie on to his next heroic and we onto our next pit stop. Kentish pubs and churches all with histories that go back a thousand or more years, feeling at home in both and reluctant to leave either. An assault on all the senses and oh my bleeding feet!
Cramner preached here and Becket died there and 29 walked this way before! Focus the heart and mind on St Clare, St Lawrence and the Blessed Sandra of Beneden. On Becket's death and Chaucer's pilgrims and we liked the Wife of Bath, very human. I dreamt, I saw Clare one night all dressed in white silk pyjamas. Dark days in the dungeons. Becket hacked to death by Henry's men right here, on this spot. Becket didn't want to be Archbishop and you feel that Rowan is a reluctant too. He came along and said hello!
There were short legged llamas and cows with big eyes. There were earth moving snores and heart moving kindness and a bus, but not as you'd know it Jim. It didn't move and took hours to go anywhere. It was a metaphor for pilgrimage. The sum of the parts is not a very elegant beast, but it moves eventually and gets there in its own quiet time.
Battle to Beneden, Beneden to Egerton, Egerton to Wye, Wye to Canterbury, doesn't sound much, but it took 2000 years.
Yours
Cuthbert
Cuthbert is a small but very well travelled bear...