Day 9: Cudworth to Knottingley

The day started as usual - breakfast, packing, van loading, and grabbing of sandwiches before the off.

I was up front, but clearly the pilgrims walked largely as a group through Cudworth and Shafton and on towards South Hiendly.

At South Hiendley, we were early enough to wait outside before the service.

The service was worth waiting for: the minister preached animatedly - even keeping the attention of those of us used to five-minute-maximum sermons.

We filled their chapel, to their delight.

On towards Fitzwilliam, we passed an ostrich farm (did you know they are classed as dangerous wild animals?)

On the run into the pub, desperate for a picture of a train crossing THAT bridge (the one Julian and I waited at for ages when planning, only to hear a train as we rounded the corner) - yes, a train came. Lined up the shot, click - white van man drove through my frame! Aaaaaaagh! (Yes, OK Stephen, the other two attempts were spoilt by a tree stepping out in front of my camera. Nice picture of train hiding behind bush).

But anyway, we arrived at The Catchpenny in good time, and today the food was ON.

Many sat inside, others braved the grey skies outside.

Around the ostrich farm we'd encountered a ploughed field (formerly oil seed rape as witnessed by Bridget and I), much to the disgust of certain whingeing pilgrims. It got worse - soon after lunch, there was a bigger section of roughly-ploughed ground, on an uphill stretch at that. To add insult to injury, the exit to the road was overgrown and we were scratched and stung as we broke free.

A long stretch of very minor road and lots of horses followed, then a dip and a final climb to St Cuthbert's at High Ackworth, where the Rector had prepared a Celtic-style service for us.

A little further on, we discovered a huge field of tents of all shapes and sizes, a tipi or two: this it transpired was a festival of northern Greens (not, as John suggested, anything to do with cabbage). (I'm told that it was called "Sustainability Up North").

Our next stop was at St Stephen's, East Hardwick, where the frint markers arrived as a baptism was finishing. We were rapidly invited in to join the party - tea in fine china cups and slices of Christening cake. Four sweaty pilgrims looked slightly out of place alongside the be-suited family and guests, but we were made most welcome. (The other pilgrims got the tea and cake, though the family had moved on).

A short service followed, with the singing of "To be a pilgrim", after which the vicar, Shelagh Stacey, anointed those who wished with holy oils.

The vicar and others joined us from there until Darrington (where we didn't have a prayer stop because there was no one available to open the church).

Under the A1 Great North Road, then north along the county boundary. The path alongside the golf course was overgrown, and showed Maurice's vocation as a David Bellamy lookalike.

As we walked in, the countryside ran into the industrial belt along the River Aire - three separate power stations were visible: this is Ferrybridge, the closest to Knottingley.

The final run took us across the railway - still no train, Jules, but I guess Andy was grateful.

The hall is spacious, though there is no hot water. The evening prayer gang used two benches to achieve the antiphonal effect.

Joan's found her vocation as a hairdresser

Patrick was told that the toilet was down the corridor. Well, the pan was, and he was taken aback by the public outcry that ensued. The boys in blue are now on their way to take down his particulars for use as evidence against him... (Download terminated)