Thanks to the virus, George is working from home, keyboard steaming away, but still time to observe the birds in Mile End, London. This morning at 7.30 our street in Canterbury should have been busy with drivers off to work but the only traffic was a pair of pigeons and two magpies, pecking at discarded takeaway food. The birch tree was busy with long-tsiled tits a few minutes later.
Our pilgrimage should take us from Sandwich to Canterbury in easy stages. We have been planning it but we don’t know when we will be able to walk it together, but here’s a little taster: the last day into the city.
This section of the walk is quite unchallenging. Should we be unable to walk together from Sandwich as a community, perhaps groups could walk this 5km stretch on successive days. The walk is almost completely off road, but on well-maintained national cycle track, footpaths or quiet residential roads until the city centre.
St Mary’s church at Fordwich is open from 10.00 so we can gather there for prayer. I spoke to a custodian who was about to cut the grass; he was relaxed about our pilgrimage. The church, though ancient, is wheelchair accessible; there are box pews but choir benches below the sanctuary. The church is in the care of the Churches Conservation Trust and is not used for regular worship. This Annunciation window at the East End is special; maybe an Eastern influence?
The Old Town Hall shown at the top of this post may be visited but is not likely to be wheelchair accessible! The path goes across pastureland with wooden bridges which have cattle grids but there were no beasts when I cycled in mid-March.
On entering woodland the path climbs away from the valley. In a more open stretch there is a motorcycle exclusion gate into Sturry Road Community Park. We are now on former War Department training ground, used from the Crimean War until recently. Another path runs from the WD boundary stone down to Tennyson Avenue. Our path goes down past the Northgate Community Centre. There is a chicane, designed for wheelchair access but not for lads on scrambler bikes who would be tempted to churn it all into mud.
Here we can chooe the river path or quiet streets to reach St Thomas’s shrine and on to L’Arche’s Glebe garden for a well-earned BBQ.
Yes, we are thinking about climate change. In the vanguard of Church thinking on this concern are the Columbans, an international community of priests, sisters and volunteers who often work in places vulnerable to the effects of climate change. They can see it happening while it is still possible to dismiss the concerns as scaremongering in western cities.
Fr Sean McDonagh writes: (follow the link for the full article)
Despite the promise made at the Paris Agreement in 2015, countries will have to increase their level of ambition for the sake of the future of humankind and all other species.
Researchers writing in the prestigious journal Nature questioned whether planet Earth had passed a series of tipping points on climate change. Tipping points are reached when the impacts of global heating become unstoppable in terms of the runaway loss of ice sheets, destruction of forests or rising ocean levels. Until recently, scientists believed that it would take a rise of 5 degree Celsius about the pre-industrial level, to breach tipping points. Recent research suggests that this could happen …
The good news is that we now have technologies such as renewable energy and electric vehicles which could enable us to make serious cuts in greenhouse gas emissions. Inger Andersen, the executive director of the United Nations Environment Programme warns that “that the world’s fate would be sealed in the next few years as carbon would rise to such a level as to make dangerous levels of heating inevitable.”
We may feel we can do nothing useful, or we can actually do lots of little things: litter picking, tree planting, travelling by public transport or walking … none of it makes much difference on its own, but if we see, judge and act as though God has put a new heart within us, a heart that loves the planet we are given for our home, we will be faithful in those little things. Do read Fr MacDonagh’s article.
Three years, give or take a week, I have been working at L’Arche Kent’s Glebe garden. The River Stour flows alongside; not a wide stream, so we can hear, and in winter and early spring, see across to the flats (apartments) opposite. We often hear snatches of conversation as people walk by, but today, for the first time, I became aware that people were talking from one balcony to another. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and I was alone on our side, so perhaps I was hearing something that was often going on in the background, even in this age of secure outer front doors and entry phones. But I do think this neighbourliness was indeed something new. It was certainly heartening.
Saturdays, I usually avoid the city centre but this weekend I had to pass through. It was quiet, very quiet, but I saw more people that I know, and had a long catch-up wih a former neighbour. He was concerned for the football club he is a part-owner of; even paying part-time wages is a challenge when no money is coming in. But with gyms closing, gatherings prohibited, even the community teams are suspended, including school children and wheelchair players. They don’t want quiet Saturdays!
It becomes clear that sport is important for more than passive entertainment.
There’s a virus about, so maybe we don’t want to look at skulls or gravestones right now. But Henry Brown of this town (Fordwich near Canterbury) has some fine lettering above his plot as well as the two skulls. Whatever else was wrong in England in January 1720/1, there were skilled stonemasons about, and they needed no W.B. Yeats to urge them to cast a cold eye on death.
The date 1720/1 does not indicate that the mason did not know exactly when Henry Brown left his town. It just shows the confusion that prevailed between England and Continental Europe in the years between Pope Gregory XIII introducing the calendar that bears his name in 1582 and its adoption by Britain in 1752. Although the Gregorian was more accurate and sorted out most of the slippage between the earth’s year and the calendar year, the British were not going to accept this crazy, Catholic, continental innovation. Not in 1720/1 anyway.
Why was I in Fordwich? Despite the virus, I’m still allowed exercise and I was preparing the way for a L’Arche pilgrimage, and Fordwich to Canterbury is the last 5 km stage. No major hazards is the good news!
Under bare Ben Bulben’s head
In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid,
An ancestor was rector there
Long years ago; a church stands near,
By the road an ancient Cross.
No marble, no conventional phrase,
On limestone quarried near the spot
By his command these words are cut:
Cast a cold eye
W.B. Yeats Under Ben Bulben.
On life, on death.
Horseman, pass by!
WE have a little project to share some light-hearted reflections on life with the virus. This is from a letter to customers from Sutton’s Seed Merchants.
Yesterday in conversation with an enthusiastic gardening journalist we were discussing how gardeners are generally an optimistic bunch of people. We take tiny seeds, put them into the ground, hoping they will germinate and flourish. Many of us have planted trees that we don’t even expect to see fully mature in our lifetimes. Our plants are blissfully unaware of the troubles of the world and caring for our gardens, patios and windowboxes also gives us the chance to escape for a while.
Gardening is a wonderful hobby where in a large garden or even a balcony a few plants can provide months or even years of pleasure. We recognise how important this hobby is to our customers so I can assure you that we will continue to do all that we can to help you to enjoy your outdoor (or indoor) spaces.
Happy gardening!
David Robinson,
Managing Director
We will be sharing a few light hearted reflections on life with the corona virus.
Four and a half year old Abel received the news about school closures level-headedly. He’s looking forward to donning his Hi-Viz vest and using the litter-picker, as well as gardening again.
An Estonian friend’s news from home: Tallinn is unnaturally quiet, few people on the streets, but the forests and beaches are full of people enjoying unexpectedly not being in town. Let’s hope and pray they stay safe.
No sooner had I written that paragraph than I read that in France, the Prefects of Departements around the coast are closing all the beaches to the public.
A rustle in the bark chippings next to me as I walked home through the park. A blackbird? No, a Rat.
Ten yards ahead, a woman was feeding the ducks and pigeons …
Will Turnstone 