Reverend Wrant writes...

Why has the standard of driving become so bad? Is everyone trying to get on the ‘bad driving’ TV programmes? Recently I’ve lost count of the times I have been overtaken when driving at the limit in 30 and 40 mph zones. I almost expect to it to happen now. The local police staked out a road in one of our villages recently and clocked someone travelling at 68 mph in a 30 mph area. And someone told me of another driver caught locally doing 80 something in a 30 mph street. Last Sunday in the village we were saying goodbye outside the church where a car was parked on the road – legally, on a straight stretch – and were approached from both directions by cars travelling at least at 30 mph. Neither slowed and somehow managed to squeeze by each other opposite the parked car (which had a passenger in it). This in a road where you have to pull over a bit to allow a bus or lorry going in the opposite direction a polite and safe amount of space. The three of us standing on the pavement – all drivers – stood open-mouthed and unbelieving at what we’d just seen. And it’s become quite normal for me to be overtaken on country roads by cars doing 70 or 80 mph.
And another thing…
Why do people drive so close to you? I can be travelling at 55-60 mph and the driver behind me decides that a gap that would just about be OK at 30 mph is perfectly safe. Even when there is a continuous stream of traffic in the opposite direction they insist on following for miles at ‘overtaking’ distance behind me. I have three strategies, in order of deployment: put my left foot on the brake pedal so that the brake light comes on which works about 70% of the time; slowly adjust the speed to fit the gap which they get annoyed at but if they insist at driving at that distance then I’ll drive at the appropriate speed; pull over when that is possible and let them go by. The last choice is when I am scared of the driving behind – which happens much more than it used to. If I can’t see the number plate of the car behind in my rear view mirror then it is usually far too close. The other day I missed a turning because the car behind was so close – the driver apparently blind to anyone other than him/herself – that it would have hit me had I braked to slow for the turning. Years ago someone drove into the back of me and maybe I am a bit more twitchy about it as a result but even so…
And yet another thing…
Why do so many people drive around on clear nights with their front fog lights on? I’ve got them and you have to make a positive decision to put them on. Isn’t it still illegal to have them on unless the driving conditions warrant it?
Why are so many headlights badly adjusted?
Why are the headlights of SUVs at just the right height so that their reflection in the rearview mirror blinds you when the SUV is driven close behind, as it often is?
And why are cars travelling in an unpredictable or eccentric manner always driven by men wearing hats? This has puzzled me for many years…

(There, I feel better now...)

Pilgrim's pace...

A few weeks ago I walked the St Cuthbert’s Way with a friend, whose fortunate idea it was in the first place. This long distance path runs for about 65 miles connecting Melrose Abbey in the Scottish Borders with Lindisfarne or Holy Island off the Northumbrian coast. In the seventh century Cuthbert joined the community at Melrose Abbey, in time becoming the abbot of the community at Lindisfarne. Increasingly he felt called to a solitary life and lived as a hermit on a very small tidal island at Lindisfarne. Finding it too close to people he moved to an island in the Inner Farne Islands just down the coast. Even there he was visited by people coming to him, speaking to him from their boats. He was made the bishop of the northeastern Christians but after a few years retired to his island to die. Things didn’t stop there though. His body was removed by the monks when the Vikings came to call and he was moved around for many years, eventually being finally put to rest in what became Durham Cathedral. The route we followed was probably not actually trodden by Cuthbert but visits some of the places he would have known and visited on his way from Melrose to Lindisfarne. I really don’t think that he climbed over bits of the Cheviots, as we did, when there were easier valley routes with abbeys to stay in. It is a good walk if you are looking for a route with varied and beautiful scenery, that can be walked in a week without too much difficulty if you are reasonably fit, and has a bit of history to it. We treated it partly as a pilgrimage, I guess, and spent a couple of nights on Lindisfarne at the end. It was a privilege to stay in such a special place. The veil is thin there…
One thing that I particularly noticed after I returned home is the effect of moving and living at what you might call a human pace. Flying back down from Edinburgh (yes, that was the cheapest solution to the ‘how do we get there and back’ problem) meant that we covered 400 or so miles in a few hours. But during the week we had been moving at say two miles per hour on average and covering up to 18 miles a day at most. Such a slow pace means that you inhabit the landscape when travelling through it. You have time to stop and talk with people you meet on the way, time to stop and watch the herons on the river. And you note how the landscape changes. All your senses are engaged with where you are.
Life became very simple – get up, pray, eat, walk, eat (and drink), pray, sleep. Our concerns became focused on feet (blisters in my case which I knew would happen and was prepared for) and whether there would be a bath at our B&B for that night or not. A simple pattern probably similar to Cuthbert’s and his travelling companions.
And for a week or two afterwards that simplicity and feeling of being placed persisted.

Which, while it lasted, was a good position from which to be and do this curate stuff…