But the blue vaporous
end of day
Brought peace, and
pursuit baffled quite,
Where between
pine-woods dipped the way.
I turned, slipped in
and out of sight.
I trod as quiet as the
night.
Rupert Brooke 1887-1915
Rupert Brooke 1887-1915
We reached the split. In Boughton Lees the NDW forks to form a lasso shape, both sides meeting at Dover, where the pilgrims would have then swam to Calais. Nah... just kidding.... they would have taken a boat or British Air then gone on to Rome. We took the road to Canterbury and touched our feet at Becket's shrine , so effectively the pilgrimage is done, but we're going to do the Loop.
Four more days. We've come about 103 miles from Farnham, though the addition according to the GPS is somewhat under and in reality with extra walking outside the trail section its probably more.
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| Magna Carta Souvenirs: Write Your Own! |
But today was a bad day...... I've been brought to a screeching halt by SHIN SPLINTS.
If you've ever had shin splints you understand. This should have been a perfect walking day, a short 10.5 miles (comparatively) through fields and flat terrain with surprizing hamlets and villages. About halfway through I was crippled. The last 5.5 miles I hobbled one step at a time with such pain it would sometimes bring tears to my eyes. This isn't good.
Getting out of Canterbury was fine. I still don't like the pavement walking. Too much of the walk has been on streets and paved roads. Its hard on the legs, maybe that was part of it. Or when the path is on a hillside and your foot is angled. Canterbury was left behind quickly as we walked into the burbs of allotments, chatting nabes, tiny houses with plastic toys and bright flowers, then into farmland.
Roses are everywhere now, in gardens and hedgerows, the air smells like grandmother soap and perfume. The cooler temps give them their vibrant color. And bees, bees, bees! The British are into bees letting them nest everywhere, planting flowers for them.
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| Still Happy Here |
And what a treat of a hamlet called PATRIXBOURNE! Another movie set but with a genuine demeanor. Every house had a feature, every house had a garden. Linda has more guts than I do, she'll lean right into the yard to get a good picture.
The name Patrixbourne comes from an earlier village, then called 'Born'. The manor was then taken into the hands of a Norman lord called Richard Patric. The Patric family name eventually merged with the Saxon 'Born' to create the present village name. If I had a town named after me it would be Mercahampton. The Merc Place on the Water Meadow.
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| Most Houses Had Whimsical Carved Corbels |
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| Even a Ford! |
Best of all was the 12C St Mary's church because it still retained its original features. We stopped here for lunch. While we ate the church lady came to open up and asked us to sign the visitors book. She was very proud of her church, pointing out the Norman doorway,
the Saxon stained glass, isn't this gorgeous? So simple!
.......the Saxon cornice with mythical creatures and what she called their Green Man,
though he was too melted to really tell. The arched carving above the door (tympanum) depicts Christ in Majesty, surrounded by a bewildering variety of carved animals, foliage, birds, human figures, and mythical apocalyptic creatures. Among the figures you can make out are a double griffin, a tortoise, doves, and quite a few figures that simply defy description! There is damage to the tympanum, probably inflicted by Cromwell's soldiers in 1641
Another good story - Set into the south wall is a tomb recess with an unusual canopy with tracery resembling a scallop shell. There are Victorian floor tiles decorated with the Coynyngham (Cunningham) family crest and motto 'Over, Fork Over'. There are several intriguing and frankly rather unlikely stories for the origin of the motto. One fanciful version suggests that when MacBeth,of Shakespeare fame, killed King Duncan, Duncan's son and heir, Malcolm Canmore, fled and hid in a pile of hay. The farmer called for help, telling his son and farm workers to 'over, fork over', and pile more straw on top of the fugitive. When Malcolm came to the throne after MacBeth's death 17 years later, he rewarded the farmer's son with the Thanedome of Cunninghame, and arms in the shape of a hay fork.
About this time I'm in pain, it wasnt long after leaving Patrixbourne that the leg gave out so the rest of the day's energy was spent in enduring and getting through which really wrecked my world. I did rise above to notice some things though.....
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| A Pilgrims Sign |
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| How Beautiful Endless Fields of Barley Can Be |
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| The Incredibly Disgusting Sadness of People Who Dump Their Trash |
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| Made It |
On to ice, stretching and Advil......Let's hope tomorrow is better.
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