The Pilgrims' Way: Harrietsham to Boughton Lees

Sleeping in a church is fun until you try to go to sleep. Then you get stressed from all the bumps and creaks during the night. Churches are simply too big to feel secure in when you want to rest. The same feeling would apply to sleeping alone in a shopping mall. I did have a woodlouse next to my head in the morning that was curled up, though. It flexed slightly but remained curled up, before relaxing and going off on its adventures. I too left rather quickly, as I was eager to get going as soon as I could drop off the keys to the arriving warden.

The walk today was straightforward, literally. I just walked in a straight line for four hours, and made surprisingly good time.  My feet had recovered well, and while there was still some occasional discomfort, I was able to walk at a good pace. I was almost halfway to Boughton Lees by 10:30, resting for a moment at Charing church. In trying to take a shortcut to it, I took the wrong road, and once I doubled back, the road I had wanted to take was private and inaccessible. Fortunately, the village is very smart, and looks as I would imagine a 19^th century to look: red brick, white paint, good-sized windows, and multicoloured bunting zigzagging across the high street.

The church used to hold the stone that St. John the Baptist was beheaded on and was a site of pilgrimage in its own right. It is long gone now, but there is a sense of something missing still when you walk inside. Parts of the space feel strangely unoccupied. While I was taking photos, a smartly-dressed man came inside to linger for a while. It turned out his parents had got married in the church, and he came to visit before attending his grandmother’s funeral, sadly. What a mix of emotions he must have felt at that time. I wished him well in spite of events before I went on my way.

I was fortunate that it was an even mixture of road and footpath today, and especially grateful for the trees that shadowed me. The weather was bright and sunny, with a cooling breeze in the early morning. I was grateful for a clear start, but as the day wore on and the temperature reached 24 degrees, I found myself regretting once again the choice to bring a raincoat. 

After passing across several freshly tilled fields that seemed to stretch unusually far, I turned towards the estate of Eastwell. Unfortunately, I missed the church as I mistook it as a gated house. The church, which is abandoned, is interesting for having the last member of the Plantagenet dynasty buried on the grounds. He worked as a gardener on the grounds into old age, after his father Richard III was killed at the Battle of Bosworth. It would have been great to see the grave and reflect on what it represents.

The manor itself reminded me a lot of Chawton House, most obviously because they are both Elizabethan in design (although Eastwell was rebuilt in 1928 to appear Elizabethan). I spent a lot of time at Eastwell Manor, talking with the staff (I made sure to check their preferred genitive form for a person from Kent). One man, Keith, was particularly patient with me. He helped me look for a private spot to record, and allowed me to leave my bag in his office space. He even provided me with filtered water, which was very exciting (actually, the orange/lemon water they had in the lobby was wonderfully refreshing after a long walk in the sun). He also told me a story about a tiny bat he managed to save by collecting it in a napkin and taking it outside, before it exhausted itself. Another time, he dealt with a terrified fox that had run down a dead end in the house. It was stuck by the fire exit but kept headbutting the window as it panicked. Keith was badly affected by watching that fox hurt itself out of desperation, but fortunately they were able to open the door so it could run away. Keith at least has better luck at saving animals than I have.

It was filled with wedding guests, and as I walked around the exterior to shoot footage, I could observe what sort of people had come. Two lads snuck out under the trees to smoke cannabis. A lady in a beautiful duck egg blue dress was crying on the steps about the behaviour of her partner. Small children looked bored while they waited for their parents to finish their conversations. I got my footage, which is what matters to me. 

However, reviewing the audio from today’s walk, I discovered I forgot to turn my microphone on before I gave a mini lecture on Eastwell Manor. I was so proud of what I managed to film, and now it sounds like I’m speaking in the next room. I am livid and feel like I can hardly do anything right, except walk – even then, only half the time. I had planned to talk about how happy I was with my presentation of the different sites today.  Maybe I can salvage something when I edit it later on.

Despite the hiccup, I feel I’ve become quite good at delivering casual facts while walking to/away from the place in question. Compared to the start of the trip when I was very unsure of myself in front of the camera, I can now talk to myself quite comfortably. I’m essentially using the camera as a companion, since I’m by myself, and it helps to keep me entertained.

Only two days left now. Soon it will feel odd to not write an entry every night, but people will finally get to read the backlog of unpublished blog posts! For now though, I have two nights to sleep in one. See you tomorrow!