22. Kingston upon Hull

Firstly, I would like to apologise for the outrageous delay. It has been one hundred and forty seven days since I walked into the Vatican City, and not every one of them has been so busy that I couldn’t have written a closing blog entry to cap off the reflections on the walk. Though it must be said, I’m now also sympathetic to the idea that to digest one hundred days of walking, requires at least a decent period for contemplation! The rambling results of that contemplation are scattered below.

Life has changed rather drastically over the past eight months; from student to pilgrim to engineer; from Birmingham, to Haywards Heath, to Rome, ending up at, of all places, Kingston upon Hull. I’m now knee deep in the joys and challenges of the job for which I applied and interviewed during the walk to Rome. Time feels shorter than it did four months ago, but in reality I spend less of a day working now than I did walking back then. And yet, the pilgrimage was defined as much by what I experienced when I wasn’t walking, as when I was. I’m coming to the conclusion that time is what you make of it, even, and perhaps especially, the offcuts; the odd spare minutes or hour, that Big Tech, and the modern world would like to snaffle…!

It’s also an encouraging thought that I can’t recall being bored on the walk; three million steps, and the thought of more was if exhausting, not boring. Structured years of education are behind, and the amorphous decades of a career ahead; but despite the more repetitive nature of work life over student life, I don’t anticipate being bored.

Of course, I still walk, today taking a crisp winter stroll along the north bank of the ever turbid Humber. I think happiness can sometimes be simple; and I reckon I am at least a little more receptive to the plain joys a good cup of Earl Grey offers, after a chilly walk. On simplicity of surroundings, I’m clearly not quite there yet – I tend to indulge my imagination, in believing that I’m far more minimalist and spartan with what I choose to own, than I really am. Reality inevitably crashes down when I have to move everything in my car to a new house, etc. and the clutter is laid bare. I suppose a pilgrimage is the ultimate lesson in minimalism (whatever you want with you, you must carry – the strongest incentive to travel light), and yet that is certainly a lesson I seem not to have learned. Indeed, I’ve recently developed the disturbing habit of returning from IKEA almost monthly, with piles of stuff that I don’t need (and inevitably, not with the one thing I’ll have gone there for).

And so life goes on, both here in Hull and back at St Wilfrid’s in Haywards Heath, where the vestry refurbishment project which so many of you kindly supported, is getting ready for its next phase. And while I feel almost as removed now from the walk as I did this time last year, when it was but a mad half-baked idea, it is still often that little details in life surface a memory or two; and whenever I do hear the word ‘pilgrim’, even if only in a hymn on Sundays, I can’t help but crack a small smile.

Just as I started the walk with a quote from Tolkien, so shall I finish the blog with another: “the road goes ever on and on”.

Thank you all for your support.