Several people have recently alerted me to The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, saying something like, “I saw this at the cinema and thought of you”. I haven’t seen it myself but I have read the book by Rachel Joyce, on which the film is based. Harold, a pensioner who lives in Devon, hears that his old friend is dying in a hospice in Berwick-upon-Tweed and walks down the road to post a letter to her but spontaneously decides to keep on walking. It is anywhere between 500 and 627 miles (various sources) to see her, even though he only has the clothes and shoes he is wearing, not even his mobile phone. No further spoilers.
It has an element of believability but, contrary to what many believe, it is not a true story. It would be fantastic if it was and there are many emotional parts in the book (and probably the film). I’m not saying it would be impossible – indeed, the fact that many have believed it to be true would suggest it is possible. Whether it would be plausible for a pensioner who appears not to be previously prone to exercise is doubtful, to say the least. I wasn’t that unfit when I started long-distance walking (at 48) but I could barely move the following day after my first significant walk of 16 miles. It is inconceivable that he wouldn’t have suffered badly with both blisters and muscle pain, and he didn’t have specialist footwear. Walking that 500+ miles would also take significant planning; it is very easy to think you are going in the right direction and then hit somewhere with no obvious safe walking available. I must watch this film to see how realistic it is but I wouldn’t want to trash what appears to be an exceptionally fine feel-good film. From what I hear, I expect it to win awards, and hopefully it might inspire more to push themselves to unexpected achievements.
Jim Broadbent plays Harold Fry in the film, and from what I know of his other work I would expect him to be brilliant. If they made a film of my walk, I imagine Jack Dee might be a better fit for the main role though I am reminded of a couple of my students in the 1990s telling me that I reminded them of Eddie Izzard. I gather that this was in relation to the style and delivery of humour rather than any comment on sartorial elegance or gender identity (now identifying as female ‘Suzi Eddie Izzard’). That said, in more recent years she has taken to running and has achieved feats at which I can only marvel. 32 marathons and 31 comedy gigs in 31 days? Anyway, today I had a very decent walk, not even approaching one marathon even at walking speed, and certainly not in the frame for an open mike comedy session. If I was going to do comedy, it would likely be improvised and perhaps in the style of Paul Merton or Lee Mack, not that that is a standard anywhere near my grasp. But given that I do anything to avoid even karaoke, despite being given all the words, well you get the message.
I do some sort of improvisation on my walks, often deciding direction on a whim and going down roads and paths previously untrodden by me. However, 27 May is already in my sights as a more focussed walk as the back-up to last week’s rained off 5 Grounds Challenge. From Sarisbury to Curdridge, Netley and Locks Heath and back to the two grounds in Sarisbury. I haven’t yet decided whether Curdridge or Netley will be first. Judging by the shorter duration than usual innings by our 3rds and 4ths today, I know I need to get a shift on otherwise I will be on my own unlikely pilgrimage.
Today was the first walk of 2023 for which I had ditched my hoodie, leaving me only with a base layer and a long sleeved t-shirt. I never regretted that as the temperature began at around 14 and must have touched 20 Celsius on a sunny mid-afternoon. No trouble at all with feet but I admit to becoming a bit tired as I dropped into the cricket club to watch our 2nd team set up a comfortable victory only to throw it away. Earlier, coffee at 6 and a bit miles, much of the 25 minute break spent inadvertently eavesdropping on a conversation between two women on the subject of “all men are b*****ds”. As I was leaving, I found it amusing to pick up a tissue from the floor, smile, hand the tissue to one of the women, saying “oh you must have dropped this” in my most friendly and gentlemanly voice. Not creepy in any way. But we’re still all b*****ds, probably.
Not quite Harold Fry but over 20 miles on a warm day. 20.49 miles, to be more precise, helped by a couple of laps at the cricket ground. Rather than carry on to 500 miles – been there, done that – instead I wrote a song. Er, I mean I walked the short distance round the corner to home. Jacket potato with cheese, plenty of carbs and protein there, just what were needed. Food of champions.
Spiceboy's Very Long Walk 