Musical Pilgrimage

The night in Canterbury on the Friday of our Musical Pilgrimage showed me yet again how people can be moved by both pilgrimage and by music; and how it’s not just the pilgrims who are touched. 

Our motley group of ten had set off from Rochester Cathedral on the Monday bound for the Shrine of St Augustine in Ramsgate. We were on the Augustine Camino, a seven-day walking route through the beautiful Kent countryside that was established ten years ago by Andrew Kelly. He and I had been introduced by Phil McCarthy, a mutual friend and fellow pilgrimage-enthusiast, and we’d decided to add a nightly concert to the usual, very well organised, drill. And so we did what pilgrims were surely doing for centuries after getting to the end of a long day of walking: we went to the pub and we sang. It began at The Chequers in Aylesford (where we got to stay in the lovely old Carmelite priory) and it was ‘60s night:’ lots of Beatles and with a smattering of Rolling Stones and Mamas and Papas. Despite almost all of the pilgrims claiming at the outset that they couldn’t sing, they sounded pretty good to me, especially when we did the Stones’ classic ‘Out of Time,’ with some of them fairly roaring out the chorus, ‘Baby, baby, baby you’re out of time; I said BABY, BABY, BABY you’re out of time.’

When we reached the 12th Century church of St Mary the Virgin in Thurnham, our next day’s destination, it was fun to do a bit of impromptu bell ringing. It was also the venue for our Tuesday night concert and there was an intimacy about the occasion. I enjoyed singing a couple of my own songs, including ‘You’re leaving home,’ that I’d written the night before my eldest son went off to university. People were clearly moved by it, with one of the pilgrims in tears. On the Wednesday night we were back in a pub, the Chequers Inn at Doddinton which dates from the 14th Century. With several of us being either wholly or partly Irish I had decided that it would be ‘Irish night,’ and what a night it was. At a certain point, I noticed an elderly couple join us and assumed that they must be friends of one of the group. The man immediately requested ‘The Fields of Athenry,’ and I gladly obliged. It was an upbeat and wonderful session, which I concluded with ‘The Castle of Dromore,’ a lullaby I used to sing to my children when they were young. I was told later in the week that the couple who had sat with us were locals who had simply been drawn to the music, that the wife had Alzheimer’s, and that she had recognised all of the songs and had remembered all the words to ‘The Castle of Dromore.’

Thursday night found us in the 14th Century Sun Inn at Faversham and we were joined for the singing by Oliver, a journalist and Ed, a photographer, who were preparing a piece for the Sunday Times about our pilgrimage. Never have I been more photographed in my life! And then in the morning, fuelled by another cooked breakfast, we set out for Canterbury. Following a lot of rain earlier in the week, the weather had cleared and there was a new spring in our step as we made our way over the corn fields and through the woods. Having lived in Canterbury for nearly four decades I’ve walked up the High Street and visited the Cathedral countless times. Yet, it was both exciting and moving to be doing it with those people I’d journeyed with, through rain and shine, for those few days. Evensong was as beautiful as ever, there was a blessing from Canon Will, and there was time to pop home for something to eat before heading back out to the 17th Century Unicorn Inn. After singing Leanard Cohen’s ‘Hallejujah’ (which wasn’t on my original playlist for the evening) a man came over and we got chatting and he said he’d been ‘drawn’ by the music. I asked him what his favourite song was and he replied, “You’ve just sung it.” Later I started, rather tentatively, to play Ed Sheeran’s ‘Photograph.’ One of our pilgrims, Ray, who evidently has eclectic musical tastes, had requested prior to the pilgrimage both Status Quo and Ed Sheeran. I’d already done a passable version of ‘Rockin’ all over the world,’ and I’d learnt ‘Photograph’ specially. During the first verse, a youngish woman came into the pub and clearly was deeply touched by the song, which I did my best not to mess up, for it’s not the easiest to play! She sat near us, and engaged with our group of pilgrims, which by now included Kathy and Dolores who always sat next to me when I was singing and whom I christened ‘The Pilgrimettes.’ Pilgrims can find fun and laughter in anything, and ‘Eddie and the Pilgrimettes’ became one of those things that we would have a little giggle about. 

The penultimate song was Eric Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight,’ and it certainly was that. The pilgrims made their weary way back to Weatherspoons (to sleep!) and I attempted to leave as well. I was stopped firstly by the Ed Sheeran woman, then by another woman who also told me how touched she’d been by the music. Finally, a third woman, who I’d spotted sitting at the bar throughout and who hadn’t shown any obvious signs of engaging with the music, told me she’d really enjoyed the whole evening, especially ‘Only You’ by Yazoo. We got talking and she was fascinated to hear about the Musical Camino and that organising pilgrimages was part of my new ‘portfolio’ and she remarked “That’s not a shabby gig!” and I had to agree that it wasn’t a shabby gig at all. 

There was a final session on the Saturday evening at the Crown Inn in Sarre before we did our last day’s walk to Ramsgate. And then we went our separate ways. But how we had been touched by what had happened along the pilgrim path. And how some of those we had passed been touched as well.