Northumberland Viking Raiders, Pilgrims and English Castles April 2015 It’s a pilgrimage really. Not in any way religious you understand, but none-the-less a cleansing of the mind; a refreshing contrast to the endless routines of daily life: the going to bed and wakening to the clock, shaving yesterday’s stubble from the same sleepy face staring back at me in the same mirror, the washing-up at the same sink with the same mundane thoughts as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. It’s a pilgrimage to wide open skies and endless beaches, to boats and islands and castles, and rolling hills, green with the first flush of spring. It’s a pilgrimage to puffins, guillemots, razorbills, kittiwakes, shags and terns, which return here each year from far and wide - for love. It’s a pilgrimage
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