The Rosary

There was no-one there when I arrived, just a man with a child in car [her son and grandson, as it turned out. So I walked around a bit, to discover that, the towering red-brick Gothic of St Mary's apart, Swanley is almost entirely soulless, with WalMart squatting like a jewelled toad where the heart should be. A railway town, now run down and quite deprived.

Gran arrived at 3.50. A depressing, small room, dingy carpet, communal bathroom next door. She did not know why it was called The Rosary.

The room did have a kettle, so a welcome cup of tea before returning to Asda for supplies – St Peter's Organic, egg and cress sandwich, melon and blueberry salad. Plus the Guardian, a corkscrew and the excellent Asda magazine.

I got back by 5, and after a rest, some route planning, some radio, I'm now watching the Extreme Pilgrim on the telly. I've put the sports pages down over the carpet.