Harry Bucknall - Like a Tramp, Like a Pilgrim: On Foot, Across Europe to Rome

LIKE A TRAMP, LIKE A PILGRIM

HARRY BUCKNALL

Harry Bucknall was born in London in 1965 and brought up in Dorset. Travel has been an indelible part of his life since early childhood summers spent exploring the Poole Harbour archipelago in a Mirror dinghy. Educated at Harrow and the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, he served as a regular officer in the Coldstream Guards. After, Harry worked in the oil and mining industries and as a consultant in the Middle East. He has also produced theatre on the London Fringe, sat on the Olivier Awards Panel and acted as a reviewer for Arts Council, London. As a freelance travel writer, he has contributed to both the national and international press. Harrys first book, In the Dolphins Wake, about his journey from Venice to Istanbul through the Greek Islands, was published in 2011.

With my continued thanks to Saint Spyridon of Corfu,

This book is dedicated to the memory of

David Parkinson,

A good friend and a gallant man.

It is the road that teaches usand the road that enric hes u s

Paulo Coelho, The Pilgrimage , 1987

Like a Tramp,
Like A Pilgrim

On Foot, Across Europe to Rome

HARRY BUCKNALL

Also by Harry Bucknall

Published by Bene Factum

In the Dolphins Wake

Contents

Note

*

Denotes passage of a day or more in the narrative.

EVERY DAY THAT I sit at my desk looking out over the Dorset Downs, I never forget what a great privilege it is to write. Working on Like a Tramp, Like a Pilgrim has brought me such joy, not only because of the adventure itself but for all the people I met along the way. This was a journey which started five years ahead of that May morning in 2012 when I set out from St Pauls Cathedral. Countless friendships were made and a number rekindled in the process, in some cases after 30 years or more the experience was worth it for that alone. But it took the efforts of many, before, during and after the enterprise, to help get the book to completion. The majority appear in the pages that follow; one or two have had their names changed either for my or their own sakes, while a host of others, in the shadows, selflessly leant their shoulder to the wheel on my behalf.

Through two long winters and a glorious summer as I typed my manuscript, these special people, whose kindness and generosity helped bring the pages to life, have rarely been far from my thoughts.

My parents, Robin and Diana, for putting up with my flights of fantasy; my brother, James, for letting me stay hidden away from the distractions of the everyday, and Tessa, his wife, who has lived with every stage of the Tramp these past two years; my sister, Kate Benson and James and Azucena Keatley for being the diligent guardians of every draft; my readers, Peter and Anne Williams, Alan Ogden, David Prest and Nicholas Armour who gave so much of their time to challenge, cajole and bully the text into some semblance of form and forewarn of howlers.

Anthony Weldon and Christopher Lee for nurturing the scheme; Phillip Sturrock, for his counsel; Artemis Cooper, George Waud, Barnaby Rogerson, Stephanie Allen, Anthea Gibson Fleming, Ben and Tessa Fisher for their introductions; Mark and Alexandra James for their words of encouragement; Annie Maguire for her timely reminder; William and Bronwyn Marques and Joe Paterson of the Confraternity of Pilgrims to Rome for their invaluable briefings; Edmund Hall, Lucy Dichmont, Philip Noel, Christopher Page, Cassian Roberts, Sergio Gimenez, Graeme Moyle and Martha Bofito for their invaluable assistance in getting me under way; Rose and Andy Keir in the village for looking after my dog, Sam; Canon Mark Oakley, the Reverends Ewen Pinsent and Darren ACourt for their blessings and prayers; Vishal Raghuvanshi, Michael Harm, Sue Quinn and Henrietta Green for their farewell; Captain Billy Matthews at Regimental Headquarters, Coldstream Guards for his jovial support; Keith and Sandra Robinson, Scott Veitch and Guy Cholerton, Edward and Wheezie Cottrell for their hospitality, and Robert Woods of P&O Ferries for getting me across the English Channel.

Generalmajor Carsten Jacobson of the Bundeswehr, Max Arthur and William Horstmann-Craig for their research on Arras; Charles Goodson-Wickes, Charles and Sarah Daireaux, Emmanuel Barbaux and Jean-Baptiste de Proyart who helped my passage through France.

Claudio Sebasti for his welcome in Geneva and my dear friend, Ral Santiago Goi, for turning up quite unannounced; Mark Ridley for making me so at home in Italy and John Gibbons for advice over the odd brick in Pavia.

The Prince and Grand Master Fra Matthew Festing, Lucia Virgilio and Rebecca Chalmers of the Sovereign Military Order of Malta for their joyous reception in Rome and clean clothes; Tim Baxter for his poetry; Hugh McKenna for feting my return home; Abbot Timothy Wright, Father Andrew Cole, the late Father Gerard Hughes and Father Matthew Power, who gave spiritual comment on pilgrimage; Monsignor Philip Whitmore of the Venerable English College in Rome for his findings and the Very Reverend Dr Robert Willis, Dean of Canterbury Cathedral, who was so generous and helpful on numerous occasions.

David Anderson, Joan Witts, Alfredo Tavares, Salvatore Cantanzaro, Alfred Kelp, Joaquin Santos, Lucca San Martino, Djaffar Namane, Lukasz Pyra, Chris Pineda, Antonio Silva, Michal Pyra and Tomasz Naporski, who kept the coffee flowing while drafting at the best-kept secret in London; Martin Morrisey for his wisdom; Rosemary Etherton for her subtle harangue whenever she guessed my output was slowing; Nick and Kim Hughes and their leviathan photocopying machine; Alan Titchmarsh for his enquiring and ever-cheery words that meant so much; Justine Freds Hardy, my eternal muse, for keeping the ship afloat with copious quantities of laughter during the odd squall that inevitably rocked the boat from time to time. Not forgetting Nick Edmiston and his now rather frayed hat, which is still a cut above the rest, and Jools Holland, whose music never fails to make me smile refers.

I cannot finish without thanking Robin Baird-Smith, my long-suffering publisher at Bloomsbury, for his gently guiding hand, faith and fun throughout; Nicola Rusk, Joel Simons, Jamie Birkett, Kim Storry, Dawn Booth, Tristan Defew, Adam Smart and Jane Tetzlaff, who gave order to my script in double-quick time; Ros Ellis, Helen Flood and Maria Hammershoy for shouting my name from the rooftops of Bedford Square so expertly; Lachlan Campbell for Venus without, his marvellous maps and the end chapter designs; Louise Sheeran for such evocative illustrations crafted with her beloved exploding pen; Clive Chalk for his patient photography; Chris Wormell for creating such a wonderful cover and the special never fail to remember that three is greater than too. Always.

Finally, Ernest Brown, please now eat your hat!

HCB, Everley, Dorset

St. Patricks Day,

17th March, 2014

Nothing happens unless first a dream.

Carl Sandburg, Washington Monument by Night, 1922

WAITING FOR THE KETTLE to boil, I picked up the newspaper; the inside page instantly caught my eye emblazoned across it was a large medieval map of Europe tracing a route, in red, from Canterbury to Rome, the Via Francigena. It was Tuesday, 31 July 2007.

Minutes earlier, I had just typed the last full stop of In the Dolphins Wake . Satisfied, I leant back in my chair and looked out of the window; the horses grazed in the paddock, Sam, my Jack Russell, was lazing in the sun, the chickens fussed about the hedges and overhead a lark sang. My view.