observations on walking with rory
So on day one I meet Rory.
And on day two I join him on his walk.
And we walk as it happens from Morland to Penrith, through the mid grey of a winter morning with hardly a breath of wind and just the touch of a sneeze of rain.
For the morning, we have Freddy Markham as our guide. He has lived in Morland all his life, his fathers and grandfathers canons and prelates of the startling low slung Saxon church that sits in the village centre. Freddy takes us round the outer and inner circles of Morland, round the vicarage garden, through the graveyard, past the Crown Inn, into the cafe, into the old vicarage stables that now house his travelwear business.
Rory’s plan for his walk is to meet as many of his potential constituents as possible, to hear as many stories as possible, to bring politics back to the ground. And today, Freddy leading the way, we hear stories from Mark the cafe owner, from members of Freddy’s business team; from Henry the dairyman and Barry the mobile library driver; from the Horn family, from two ladies from Newby out walking their dogs, from Peter Stott in Melkinthorpe whose garden centre we pause to admire. By lunchtime, the Beacon beckons. Eamont Bridge and the outer reaches of Penrith and finally the Bluebell Bookshop where Rory is to give a talk on his travels and times in Afghanistan. We have covered seven miles and Rory walks into the Bluebell, one more intriguing snapshot of this area safely stowed.
By Charlotte Fairbairn