I wrote the scenes anyhow, finished the bible and in October, while I was editing it, Jon and I at last found a barren weekend . The author at Winchester Cathedral. October weather can be identical different from May cheerfulness. We started in cold mist in Winchester, the cathedral rising romantically from the gloom. I wished I could stay inside it, admiring the longest nave in Europe, Jane Austen ’ s grave, and noteworthy gem and wood carvings. But pilgrims don ’ t hover. As we walked up the High Street and through the medieval West Gate, it began to spit with rain, which carried on as we crossed the railway occupation and passed the prison and hospital, good as Violet does on a hot August good morning. It rained harder as we walked through the suburb – houses Violet would not have seen. I know because I was carrying a 1930s Ordnance Survey map to consult aboard our modern one. I looked for an grove that is marked on the old map, hoping to spy a murmur previous apple tree, but there were entirely 1960s bungalows. As we ultimately left the city and joined the Clarendon Way, it in truth began to pour. “ I ’ m sure this is beautiful in the sunlight, ” I kept saying as the rain tested my raincoat ’ s mettle. By then we ’ d besides donned the ultimate chagrin – waterproof trousers, which swished as we walked and made me feel about four years previous. We ’ five hundred planned a break in at Farley Mount, an 18th-century folly erected by a local man in honor of his racehorse, which he had saddled with the bizarre name Beware Chalk Pit. Violet has the lapp theme. curiously, in this exemplify, liveliness mirrored art. In my scene, Violet is planning to eat her breakfast rolls at the repository while admiring the horizon. But a inflict class is there already : the wife gives her the side-eye for being a charwoman on her own, and Violet feels forced to move on . The writer at Farley Mount pyramid. Photograph: Handout We were planning to sit inside the white pyramid to rest and dry off. But two frump walkers had the same theme and their kittenish hounds enjoyed barking inside the echoey chamber so much we had to flee the noise.
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In rain or shine, the Clarendon Way is a celestial walk, along straight Roman roads and improving and down hills, offering views of green and brown fields broken up by hedgerows and clumps of woods. Finding the cornfield where Violet meets the lone man, I was immediately struck by how very different life and art can be. Where there had been corn there were just benign turnips. “ But this is where the concern began ! ” I thought. Maybe we would have better luck at the John O ’ Gaunt Inn in bantam Horsebridge, which Violet flees to. But here again, life did not imitate art : I popped in to look around, and the whole geography of the interior was wholly unlike what I ’ five hundred imagined : the bar was in a different position, and it was bright and aired rather than dingy and smelling of chip fat. Plus the staff were friendly, whereas I made the 1930s publican nosy and black . The John O ’ Gaunt Inn in Horsebridge offered a friendly welcome As we trudged past the many tributaries of the chalky River Test, where modern dry fly fish was born, anglers unbothered by the rain plied their lines. then came Broughton, where late that night we had an excellent, by chance creative meal at The Tally Ho ! hostel. From there we momentarily diverged from the Clarendon Way and stride across area to our B & B in Nether Wallop where, after 15 miles in the rain, I hung my sop clothes over the radiators and did what Violet does : “ She kicked off her boots and was asleep in a minute. ” In the dawn, fair weather transformed everything. Nether Wallop may have a joke diagnose, but it is a lovely village, with thick thatch hang over windows like eyebrows and actual roses around the doors. Used for filming the Miss Marple BBC TV series, it is besides where Violet ’ s love interest Arthur lives and rings bells. here we met friends who were joining us for the second 13 miles of the route . Clarendon Palace ruins, dear Salisbury. Photograph: Richard Newton/Alamy twenty-six miles has a certain ring to it. Add 0.2 miles and you get … a marathon. Which is what we found running towards us along the narrow path – 1,000 participants in the annual Clarendon Way marathon. Rather than swim against this rampart of humanness, we cheated and went around, cutting seven miles off the distance. We finished the route in mellow fall sunlight with the leaves equitable beginning to turn, walking through sleepy villages and by harvested fields.
equitable away Salisbury we passed through Clarendon Park, an old hunt grind, and the ruins of Clarendon Palace, built by Henry II in the twelfth hundred. now it is all crumbling flint walls, surreally populated with grazing llama. Poor Salisbury has been in the news program for all the wrong reasons, but it appeared to have bullishly recovered from russian interference. Its cathedral is a corker, with its 123-metre steeple dominating the horizon. It has beautiful stained glass, particularly the gorgeous modern “ Prisoners of Conscience ” window in the easterly end. The chapter House famously houses a copy of the Magna Carta. I touched the walls of the cathedral, bringing greetings from that other great cathedral I had good walked from, my pilgrimage complete. Despite the rain, I was gladiolus I ’ vitamin d done it, and would do it again – the whole thing adjacent prison term. I barely need to check when the marathon is . A Single Thread is published by Borough ( £14.99 ). To order a transcript for £11.99 go to guardianbookshop.com. free UK p & phosphorus on on-line orders over £15