At my back I always
hear
Time’s wingèd
chariot hurrying near;
Better get your arse in gear
Before you need a Zimmer, dear
(adapted
from) To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell
Hi
Everyone!
In
my previous blog Just the way you are I wrote that one of my Objectives for the Camino pilgrimage walk:
Friends’
Involvement.
This
time I’d like to tell you something about another Objective: Personal
Challenge.
It
took me over 4 years from first hearing of the Camino to – in the Summer of
2016 – publically committing to do the pilgrimage walk in September &
October 2017.
It was the wingèd chariot that got my arse in gear for this 21st June I turn 65.
Since 2011 in
the UK we don’t have a Default Retirement Age, but 65 is still a watershed
moment. A moment to, as
Dylan Thomas wrote, Rage, rage against
the dying of the light.
A few days ago,
as you will read below, Phil & I walked on the North Downs around Crockham Hill & Westerham.
Phil & I have been friends
for close to 40 years. We were Best Man at each other’s weddings.
Indeed it was Phil who introduced me to Dianne. (I wanted him to introduce me to Brenda Jones. But that's a whole other story!!)
Indeed it was Phil who introduced me to Dianne. (I wanted him to introduce me to Brenda Jones. But that's a whole other story!!)
As were strolling along the bottom of the garden at Chartwell where Winston Churchill lived from from
1924 until his death in 1965, our conversation
turned to what I might euphemistically describe asThe End Game.
Reflecting on
the recent death of a very close family member, Phil recommended I read Being
Mortal by Atul Gawande.
There’s a wonderful quote in Gawande’s book:
All we ask is to be allowed to remain the writers
of our own story.
That story is ever changing. Over the course of our
lives, we may encounter unimaginable difficulties. Our concerns and desires may
shift.
But whatever happens, we want to retain the freedom
to shape our lives in ways consistent with our character and loyalties.
This is why the betrayals of body and mind that
threaten to erase our character and memory remain among our most awful
tortures.
The battle of being mortal is the battle to maintain
the integrity of one’s life - to avoid becoming so diminished or dissipated or
subjugated that who you are becomes disconnected from who you were or who you
want to be.
For me Professional Life - which I still love Beyond Measure – is beginning to wind down.
[Editor: Ric
only wrote this because Dianne told him to. We ALL know Ric has absolutely no
intention of ever retiring!]
And though I
don’t yet need a Zimmer, I thought a Physical
Challenge – 34 days of walking an average of 16 miles a day for a total of 560 miles over the Pyrenees and across Northern Spain and out to the Atlantic
Coast – would really, really benefit me.
A Challenge that
- if successfully completed – would allow me to have another season of being
the writer of my own story … …
The Miles in the Legs training
over the Winter and into the Spring has undoubtedly improved my fitness. But
34 days on a 6 days a week regime remains a Big Challenge!
It’s
great news that I’ve now got so many Friends (& their Friends) signed up to
join me throughout the Walk.
I
hope even more of you will be able to join me, whether out in Spain (perhaps just in
the Bar !!) or on the Miles in the Legs’ rambles.
Talking of the
rambles, I am now up to 425 miles since I began the training last year.
Recently, I had
a great day from the Devil’s Punchbowl to Blackdown, at 918 feet the highest
point in Sussex and the 2nd highest in South-East England after
Leith Hill at 968 feet.
The view from Blackdown
Looking south to Ditching Beacon, which is north of
Brighton, 35miles away
Clammer Hill
A coffee stop with Chris & David
I’ve also been on
a River Medway ramble, close to Paddock Wood where I spent 6 months as a
Carpenter’s Mate before going to university.
By the Medway, near
Another coffee stop; this time with Barry
And finally I’ve
done a couple of walks in the Crockham Hill – Chartwell - Westerham area. One
with Barry and the second with Phil.
The Green, Westerham
Winston Churchill (on the left, seated !!) & Phil
At first sight
Crockham Hill looks like little more at than a few houses by the side of the
B269 which takes you from from Limpsfield to Edenbridge.
But it is worth
another look …
Rambling
with Ric Factoid: Crockham Hill is on the line of the Roman road the London to
Lewes Way, the M23 of two millennia ago!
Within
a couple of miles are the family homes of two Prime Ministers: Gladstone from
the 19th century and Churchill from the 20th.
William
Gladstone was the oldest Prime Minister in office. He stepped down in 1894,
aged a mere 84.
Churchill
became Prime Minister for the first time in May 1940 when he was 65, already receiving his old age pension.
Of
course, on 9th June this man may become Prime Minister for the first
time at 68:
At
Crockham Hill’s Holy Trinity church there is the grave of Octavia Hill , a co-founder
of the National Trust.
Octavia
was inspired to found the NT by the views from Toys Hill, which Barry & I
passed on our walk.
Looking south from Toys Hill
One of
the joys of Miles in the Legs is having a well-deserved pint at the
end.
Phil
& I called into the Westerham Brewery Tap room.
In 1841
Robert Day established The Black Eagle Brewery in Westerham. It was so
successful that in 1881 a branch line from Sevenoaks to Westerham was
constructed to carry beer to and from London. By the turn of the century the
brewery was the largest employer in Westerham. Production
ceased in 1965, but was re-established in 2004.
Rambling
with Ric Factoid: Following the D-Day landings in 1944, Westerham Ales were
exported to Allied troops in Normandy inside the auxiliary fuel tanks of
Spitfires! They were dubbed “Modification XXX Depth Charges” to get them
officially approved for flights.
Black
Eagle lorries delivered beer in barrels to RAF Biggin Hill where the auxiliary dual
purpose tanks were filled with Bitter on one side and Mild on the other.
Racking
“XXX Joy Juice” into the auxiliary fuel tank of a Spitfire Mark IX
In my last blog I introduced a new feature: This is … …
I said that I’d tell you a WWII tale about a Land Army Girl.
This is … Isabel
On The Salts, Rye in the early 1940's
Land Army Girl + Champion Hop Trainer
Land Army Girl + Champion Hop Trainer
And
my Mum!
Plenty of tales to tell about Isabel.
As I write, I can hear John Squire chuckling about the discussion over the price of Pick You Own raspberries. And the whole Squire Family calling out “That would be Midge Ure, dear”, Mum’s answer to help her team win one Boxing Day quiz.
As I write, I can hear John Squire chuckling about the discussion over the price of Pick You Own raspberries. And the whole Squire Family calling out “That would be Midge Ure, dear”, Mum’s answer to help her team win one Boxing Day quiz.
But this time I’d like to tell you about
Mum’s time as a Land Army Girl in WWII.
It was a 5 miles bicycle ride from Rye to Merricks Farm at Brookland for a day of physically hard work. But adversity often generates an esprit de corps and I know that Mum looked back at her years on Romney Marsh as very happy times.
It was a 5 miles bicycle ride from Rye to Merricks Farm at Brookland for a day of physically hard work. But adversity often generates an esprit de corps and I know that Mum looked back at her years on Romney Marsh as very happy times.
Jack Merricks worked the Girls hard
and they had to turn their hands to all aspects of farm work. Mum learnt to
drive a tractor.
Rambling with Ric Factoid: It was a tradition that at lunchtime on the last Friday of each month Mum drove the Girls, who were sitting on a trailer, to The Woolpack for “Drinks on Jack”.
Dating from 1410, the Woolpack’s name comes from its popularity with `owlers'- wool smugglers- who used the inn as a base for their lucrative trade.
Piper Family Legend has it that The Woolpack was the first pub on Romney Marsh which the RAF pilots saw when returning from sorties across the Channel.
Mum always said the pilots dipped their planes’ wings as they flew over The Woolpack. And perhaps they did!
Dating from 1410, the Woolpack’s name comes from its popularity with `owlers'- wool smugglers- who used the inn as a base for their lucrative trade.
Piper Family Legend has it that The Woolpack was the first pub on Romney Marsh which the RAF pilots saw when returning from sorties across the Channel.
Mum always said the pilots dipped their planes’ wings as they flew over The Woolpack. And perhaps they did!
The Woolpack, Brookland in the 1930's
If do you find yourself at The Woolpack
on a Friday lunchtime…
Take Mum’s advice: Always go for The Special. The Pheasant never disappoints!!
Next Time:
·
The third & final of my Objectives
·
This
is … another friend whom I hope I'll be able to persuade to join me on the Camino
This is Pete
Come on, Pete; you’d really enjoy it !!
Hope to see you all soon!
Can’t wait for YOU to join me!!
Buen Camino, Ric the Rambler
Follow me on Twitter: @RamblingWithRic
Camino Thought
Here’s
is a test to find out whether your mission on earth is finished.
If you’re alive, it isn’t.
Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by
Richard Bach
