Flow River Flow

Sweet Thames, run softly..... 

The Source of the Thames, May 13th 2026 13.58

All he wanted was just to be free.

And that's the way it turned out to be.

Flow, river flow, let your waters rush down.

Take me from this road to some other town.

Flow river go, past the shady tree.

Flow river flow, flow to the sea.

Flow river flow, flow to the sea.

The Ballad of Easy Rider

Roger McGuinn

Since my wife, Amanda, was diagnosed with dementia in 2013, I have been on a number of fundraising walks for charity.  These included a strenuous hike from Stonehenge to Avebury and a very strenuous stretch of Hadrian's wall, organised by Alzheimer's Society.  I then walked the South Downs Way, 100 miles, from Winchester to Eastbourne in five days, with my friend Ken.  Cumulatively, these efforts raised £7,444....

The Infant Thames, May 13th 14.32

As Amanda's condition worsened, we were advised and monitored by Jonathan Schott, Professor of Neurology at the Dementia Research Centre, UCL Queen Square Institute of Neurology, and I switched my fund-raising to the National Brain Appeal, which provides funds to support The National Hospital for Neurology & Neurosurgery and the UCL Queen Square Institute of Neurology – together known as Queen Square.

Before Amanda died, I walked a stretch of the Norfolk Coast Path from our home, and then last year, on the anniversary of her death, I completed 60+ miles of that path from Wells-next-the-Sea to Yarmouth, and, together with sales of books and calendars I created, these raised over £10,000 for the NBA.

Thunder clouds gathering, May 13th, 18.36

So this year, despite some trifling health concerns (and having now passed three score and fifteen years on this planet) I decided, after consultation with my close friend, to tackle the first part of the Thames path, aiming to complete seventy miles in approximately four days, starting at the source and finishing with a lap of honour round Oxford. At the time of writing this has raised £2,225.....

Inglesham Church

The Thames Path is now, since 1996, a National Trail, and is well marked and maintained. It is, also, not surprising, principally downhill. I was lucky with the weather, only getting really wet on the first afternoon, and blessed with cool breezes and cloudy skies, so didn't feel the heat....

Ha'penny Bridge, Lechlade, May 14th 13.40

The initial stages too are rural and relatively undisturbed by roads or habitation. I spend a night in the modest town of Cricklade, then have some refreshment on the route in Lechlade, where the river begins to show more boating activity.

Father Thames, commissioned in 1854 for the Crystal Palace, moved to St John's Lock in 1974 

But it still isn't busy. I walk through buttercup meadows, and the river is fringed with reeds and umbelliflorae, sedge warblers cheering me on:

One surprising feature is the Stop Red Line succession of concrete pillboxes, built after Dunkirk to protect the industrial midlands from waterborne invasion. These lonely blocks, with their crumbling exteriors, seem almost medieval now, and were never used in action.

Other notable features of the development of the river are the various locks, with their associated moorings.  

It is a sign of the times that many of these are now unmanned, self-service, establishments, in spite of the rather lovely lock-keepers' cottages and gardens. Some are staffed part time, and at least are well-maintained, but there are signs of frustration (note the sign in the door here: Warning, NO STUPID PEOPLE beyond this point.....)

And always, alongside the locks there are weirs and sluices, indicating, even in this time of little rain, just how powerful and indomitable the flow of water can be:

I walk alone, my thoughts swimming with memories of my wife, and our daughters. Inevitably it is a sad pilgrimage, though I know it is worthwhile.  

The river keeps on flowing, though, a symbol of life finding its way, the watercourse way, whatever the obstacle.....

Kelmscott Manor, May 14th 16.00

I spend a night at the Plough Inn, near William Morris's Kelmscott Manor, a place that Amanda and I visited before the decline, so there are ghosts on the stair.....

With my ghosts, Kelmscott

Though I know she loved the tapestries and designs:

And I love the flowers that grow between the stones:

Back on the trail the river opens up, reflecting the uncertain skies.  My feet hurt - blisters and corns; my shoulders ache as my bag is too heavy; my thighs are tense. The plodding is unrelieved by scenic features or architectural attractions.....

May 15th, 09.26

I try to distract myself by photographing swallows diving to the river surface to drink. But apart from their speed, I find I have been watching martins anyway....

Above me a larger flying beast churns its way through the air. I think it is an Atlas C.1 (A400M), a massive four-engine turboprop that can carry up to 37 tonnes over 2,000 nautical miles. It is a reminder that the world is not at peace, and that there are many far worse off than me....

But back on terra firma the river flows on unconcerned, with its quota of peaceful migrants moored by the banks, and bridges occasionally demonstrating the metaphorical ability mankind has devised for solving problems....

While the burnished silver finish of the river's surface reflects an atmosphere that is far greater than any individual's breadth:

May 15th, 17.47

And then I am under the concrete structure of the A34 Thames Bridge, the rumble and roar of traffic filling my ears where bird song and breeze was before....

Before turning into the overcrowded Trout Inn, apparently a favourite of both Lewis Carroll and Inspector Morse [Did they know each other?  Did John Thaw know Alice Liddell?  Ed.]

The Trout Inn, May 16th, 14.12

Then, on the home strait I pay my respects to the ruined Mother Superior of Godstow Nunnery:

Godstow Nunnery

And then steam past Port Meadow.....

Port meadow, Oxford

To reach my destination, and then, to the cheers of an enthusiastic crowd, to perform my lap of honour, to bring my total miles to approximately one for each of the years Amanda would have lived were there a loving god....

Folly Bridge, Oxford

The Thames leaves me behind.  I let it go..... I know many of the lower reaches: Marlow, Henley, Windsor, Hampton Court, Barnes, Putney and all the way to Greenwich.  I have come far enough, and I am tired.....

The Bridge of Sighs

Under Hertford's Bridge of Sighs, which my dad left to go to war in 1941....

The Radcliffe Camera

And in the centre of the University, bright young things gather for their May Balls, full of hope and promise:

While I wonder at a portable triptych in the Ashmolean Museum, the end of my journey. This gold and translucent enamel treasure, created in the mid fourteenth century, was designed for private devotion and is thought to have belonged to Mary Queen of Scots.  

Hey!  My thoughts fly up.....  The river flows; life goes on; we all have our crosses to bear.....

We go downstairs, and out into the rain.....

The Ashmolean Museum, May 17th, 11.45

As I walked out tonight in the mystic garden

The wounded flowers were dangling from the vines 

I was passing by yon cool and crystal fountain 

Someone hit me from behind

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’

Through this weary world of woe 

Heart burnin’, still yearnin’

No one on earth would ever know

Ain’t Talkin’

Bob Dylan

*******

Should you wish to support the National Brain Appeal and help others in the long term, then please click on this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/page/richard-gibbs-8?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL&utm_campaign=lc_frp_share_transaction_fundraiser_page_donation_received_-_nth_donation

******

In my father's footsteps: The Turf Tavern, May 16th 17.38

******

And, if, by chance (I hadn't got my usual distribution list with me on the walk) you didn't see my earlier piece about the Thames Path, which told of Amanda's illness and decline, then please follow this link:

https://www.richardpgibbs.org/2026/05/the-thames-path-warning-contains.html

That piece was harrowing to write, and it was hard to share some of the pictures, but my intention was to raise awareness of the suffering that dementia may cause, and perhaps to promote research, and support, and to help people understand what may sadly be in store....

With love

Richard

May 2026

*******

With sincere thanks to all those who have supported me, especially my dear friend CJ

*******

PS, should you like to see more pictures of Oxford, unrelated to these pieces above, then please see:

https://www.richardpgibbs.org/2013/10/oxford.html

******

The Thames Path (warning - contains emotional material....)

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith so that I could remove mountains, but have not charity, I am nothing.....

Deathbed

I have said much of this before.... I have wrought my emotions to the core.  My grief, my sorrow, my sense of loss and all that have been offered to my friends, and I know that life has to go on, and that everyone else has their stories, their loneliness, their pain.....

When you read this, I may be near Oxford, or in Oxford, or at home.... My intended walk from the source of the Thames into and around the city of Oxford may have happened, or perhaps may have been aborted, though the intention was always there....

Sarah, Amanda, Hannah

[And the intention was/is?  Ed]

Laste in the day

Despite some health problems, and with three score and fifteen years on my back, my intention was to walk a mile for every year my late wife Amanda (nearly) lived, and, with enormous gratitude to my close friend (who assisted and encouraged the project), it seemed opportune to walk the Thames Path from the source to approximately Oxford..... 

Monte Amiata, some thirty years ago

Amanda was my world, and is still there in my life and very much in the lives of our daughters, Hannah and Sarah. She was a sweet, caring person, loved by all she met, and could not have been a better mother and wife. She was never ill, and lived what can only be categorised as a healthy life.

Monte Amiata, about forty years ago

Sadly, in her mid fifties, something went wrong, and she was afflicted by what was eventually diagnosed as Frontotemporal Dementia (Semantic Variant).

In the Abbruzzi, when all was well

Little did we realise, then, what this meant, so gradual was the decline, but now we look back and think of our past:

Our wedding day with the Clifton Suspension Bridge behind us

The girl I didn't even know:

With Vidal Sassoon in Rome

Was to become my partner, my wife, the mother of our children, and my companion until death us did part.....

And there you go....

From this:

To this:

In the wink of an eye, without so much as a 'scuse me.....  Here we are, in Italy, knowing that things weren't right:

Beginning that slow slide towards oblivion that some call retirement.....

And then, moments later, you are wondering what happened, why you cannot understand each other, where the time went, how a loving god could be so cruel.....

Don't get me wrong.  Amanda was lovely to the very end.  She knew things were falling apart, but she didn't complain.  She faced the awful loss of language and control and independence, and the loss of all that went with the life she had had a right to expect, and she folded down, rather as a bright and happy birthday balloon will do when it is spent....

Gradually, almost gently, falling apart before our eyes.

A terrifying decline for a sentient being.  From mother and lover, to incontinent child.....

Needing to be wheeled from flower to flower:

And then looking at you, incapable of speech, her eyes crying out for mercy, for understanding, for peace......

This is why, in my madness and in my own decline, I am hoping that when you read this I may have walked some sixty or seventy miles of the Thames Path.  I want to draw your attention to how lives can be affected by the stealthy creep of dementia.  I am not competing with anyone.  I know there are thousands of worthy charities out there that cry out for support.  I know that many people in many parts of the world are suffering at this moment with the pains of war, the terrors of political repression, the horrors of starvation and disease.  

My story is nothing.....

But it is my story.

Should you wish to know more about the National Brain Appeal (which provides much-needed funds to support The National Hospital for Neurology & Neurosurgery and the UCL Queen Square Institute of Neurology – together known as Queen Square. This is one of the world’s leading centres for the diagnosis, treatment and care of patients with neurological and neuromuscular conditions. These include stroke, multiple sclerosis, brain cancer, epilepsy, Parkinson’s disease, and dementia) please see:

https://www.nationalbrainappeal.org/

And should you wish to support me and my family, and help others in the long term, then please click on this link:

https://www.justgiving.com/page/richard-gibbs-8?utm_medium=FR&utm_source=CL&utm_campaign=lc_frp_share_transaction_fundraiser_page_donation_received_-_nth_donation

******

Dedicated to Amanda and to Hannah and to Sarah

And also to my friend, who is helping me through all this, her life having been similarly affected

*****

PS, from "Your Local Paper", May 13th 2026: