Train to Westbury and from there to Pewsey. I was met by Jennifer the vicar who strode off towards St John’s. She has a reputation for walking at speed. Entirely justified. I’m now in the waiting room at Westbury Station and my legs feel as if they have been racked.
In the mythical past vicars used to visit. I suppose these walks are in much the same vein. At each church a small posse had developed. Cake and prayers, with coffee for the Bishop’s visit.
We walked along canal towpaths, through woods, climbed the downs. Minty the vicar’a spaniel was a happy accomplice. Six roe dear standing in a distant fI eld. The woods and churchyards are full of snowdrops. Eighteen miles in rain and wind.
On my way home now to check that the terriers are OK. The BBC are coming tomorrow morning to film something for Songs if Praise about giving up your car. I have to get the tandem ready as it seems the reporter wants to do the interview from the stoker’a seat.