kilvert's day

A long drive today takes us deep into Kilvert country, on the Welsh marches in south Herefordshire. Our walk takes us past his old church, on to the famous red-brick bridge over the river Wye, before climbing the 300 metre ridge that guards it. Most of the climb was in one of those "sunken paths", often Roman roads originally, that arrow straight up the slope in a long, sweaty trudge. Good for the heart though.

Kilvert was an Anglican priest who lived in the latter half of the 19th century. His diary, or what little survives of it, is a vibrant, incident packed journal which provides a unique insight into the mind of a priest, and the man within. He reveals occasionally, for instance, his more than passing interest in a neatly turned ankle; indeed it was this candour that caused his wife to destroy most of his diaries after his death. Shame. What remains is still a remarkable document of a man and his time. But what was lost...