Day 37 of the End to End in 2019, I was still walking on the Severn Way somewhere in the middle of Britain. In fact most of this section was through the middle bit. It did however, mark a new development for the walk: the train/walk combo. Mostly Bob drove the wheeled transport and I walked, which did get a bit more complicated on days when we swapped campsites. But in this section we were alongside the Severn Valley Railway and were able to use that to help us to and from the walk for a few days. Later on LEJOG we would do the walk/train combo again on other lines.
There were a couple of other adventurous moments: Nicky and Hilary, colleagues from school, met us on the Severn Way and we walked to Highley station together. It’s great to have walk companions, especially unexpected ones. Arriving at Highley station we walked into a bee swarm, which is highly alarming with two bee allergic people in the group.
Meanwhile in 2020, Bob and I were wondering if the LEJOG seemed to go quicker if you were remembering it rather than walking it. Not an easy idea to test or even draw a graph about. At the moment I am, like so many, in the middle of a situation not of my choosing, in a country run by a government not of my choosing. I’m easily defined as middle class: another middle. But other things put me in different groups: I’m retired so I can’t be furloughed, a home owner so I can’t be evicted. This doesn’t mean I have no vulnerabilities but I probably have fewer than some folks.
Middle or not, I do have strong opinions. I’m particularly angry about the lack of respect or value our society places on people with disabilities, something which is especially noticeable in this Pandemic. I’d be interested to know if any one who has supported the ways the response to the virus in England is currently managed has had a conversion experience as the result of the death of a family member from COVID19?
Each day I look at the information about those who have died and lament that we seem content to let numbers stand alone, without any names. Whilst war metaphors are common, even war time practices were more humane, recording public lists of the names of those who had died. Where will we build our Menin Gate or our Thiepval Memorial?
All along the route of LEJOG, each village and town had its own war memorial. Sometimes a name appeared on more than one memorial as different communities mourned the same person for whatever reason. A year ago, I used the song ‘You’ll never walk alone’ in my daily reflection. It reminded me how long was the struggle for justice for the 96 and how the active period of mourning for them is not over. ‘Their names liveth for ever more’ it commonly says in the war grave cemeteries I have visited. May it always be so.
From my remembered bible
God says ‘Your name is written on the palm of my hand’.
Jesus said ‘Look at my hands’.
Name writer, Wound bearer, Hand holder,
these and many other names I call you, God of all.
As close to me as the blood in my veins,
I am moved by your wounds:
I am honoured to see my written name.
May our acknowledgement of shared vulnerability,
bind us together, hold us closer than breathing.
Help us to leave behind the ableism that separates us
and embrace the kindom way of mutual accountability.
And for those who mourn:
we shall remember name after name after name,
in your beloved name.
Amen.
JAL: 12.05.2020 in Longdendale.