Lent begins.

Over to Costa for an erstwhile coffee. Woke up at six. Remade the bed then heard wood pigeons. Morning prayer is at 7:30 in Our Lady Martyrdom chapel. When I collected my pilgrim credentials yesterday the lady at that post said there were two Dutch people who had picked up theirs earlier in the day. Perhaps they will be in the chapel this morning. It is Ash Wednesday. It is here! It was a long time coming!

A brief breakfast with Austin and An other then I set off back to the Cathedral to see the congregation gather for the Eucharist. But I can't partake in any of the prayers, excepting the Lords Prayer, so I couldn't go into that chapel and listen to any more of the Psalms. There is no reason for vengeance in the message of Christ. I don't know how it got into the story of Christ at all?

The weather is sharp showers and chilly, it passes for the sun to appear and me to sweat inside my rain jacket. No sign of any of our orange cousins on the route so far.

Finally I have reached the end of my first day at 3pm. After a brief water and lunch in the church St Andrews, Shepherd's Well. I took two wrong turnings in Canterbury, but managed to bump into a Waitrose for Cheddar, Saucisson and Rye. Once I got on the pilgrims way I struggled to recall any of this route, which I had passed in 2014. Until I passed a barn and Oast house I recognised prior to Patrixbourne.

Before leaving Shepherd's Well I ducked in the Bell Inn for a pee. On my right were two dressed in hiking attire so I presumed them to be the Dutch couple. Sadly they weren't, only a couple of Belgians on the North Downs Way. This pub is a Punch Tavern ... Only shite on tap which is a relief this being Lent and all that jazz.

Navigating through road works on the way into Coldred and crossing the A2 I came down off the Downs using a parish boundary I had mistaken for a path. Unfortunately crossing private land. A gentleman thought I was come to cut down a tree; he let me through his garden saying it often happens walkers take a wrong turn and I was on the road running parallel to the railway lines. Temple Ewell is nestled in the valley of the Dour. I am bathed and have cleaned the copious mud from my heels. Next time out I am getting the gaiters on before I leave. Across the Channel it can only be as muddy? There were plenty of buds on the trees lining my path and the happy sounds of a warbling bird on the Downs. Spring may be soon?

My AirBNB host for tonight is making us dinner. Omelette and bread. I won't be awake late this evening. And Robinson Crusoe is recovering from some malady.

A Buddhist fellow I spoke to briefly mentioned a Trappist monk Thomas Merton, who wrote The Seven Storey Mountain, as an interesting author for his approach to Zen. He actually met Thich Nhat Hanh and other eastern spiritual individuals. But that will be later on back in the North.