Pilgrimpace's Blog

A year ago we were all geared up for our Silver Wedding Anniversary.  A big party had been organised.  Fifty of our closest friends had been invited.  We were all ready.  Then Margaret rang and told us to check our Marriage Certificate.  I did.  We had made a mistake.  We were a year early (maths is not my strongest point).

Well, we laughed and we went ahead.  No one minded that we had got them there under false pretences.  We had a great party and a great celebration of 24 years.

And today we are celebrating – quietly, modestly, and I hope lovingly, 25 years.  I have found the notes I wrote for a speech at the party.  Reflecting on our marriage, that you cannot easily have a marriage with just the two of you – that you are part of a community of love and support, practically supporting you, holding you, enriching you, sharing the journey (whether this has been with help in bringing up Meenakshi, help in tough times, or, in the week before the party, in finding emergency keys when I left the other two locked in the garden by accident.  Thank you to all of you – we have woven a beautiful cloth together.

I have been thinking a lot about marriage over the past weeks, about length of time, what it means to walk with someone for more than 25 years – there were no grey hairs, wrinkles, spare weight then.  It’s been a wonderful time.  Thank you to Bharti.

I closed by reading lines from the poem The Way of It by RS Thomas.  You can read it here.  It begins:

With her fingers she turns paint
into flowers, with her body
flowers into a remembrance
of herself. She is at work
always, mending the garment
of our marriage

and ends:

She was not deceived,
but accepted me as a girl
will under a thin moon
… as someone
she could build a home with
for her imagined child. 

Here’s to some more time walking together.

​Home now and reflecting on a great pilgrimage along the North Wales Way. Report and reflections coming soon.

​Arrived, bathed and on the train home. Proper reports to follow

​We should arrive in Holywell tomorrow. 

We are trapped in a pub in St Asaph. No need to send help.

​The way to Gwytherin slowly unfolds