Sunday, am.

Yesterday I am relieved it is gone. Battle over battle won. No alcohol was a tough confrontation. But I was early to bed and managed to switch off around ten. Time to let the melancholy since Thursday drift away on the sea as another light shines taking me upon the current towards the home of ancient Celtic Christianity.

The origins of monastic life began with Saint Anthony, who was from a very privileged and wealthy family, by the time he reached 34 he'd decided the life he lived wasn't working for him and he sought a simpler diviner life away from the madding crowd in the desert: easier to do when you're rich, connected, dependable. The call of monastic existence always appeals to me when I am slowly oblate by the maddened crowd. They must come to F&U like bears to a salmon spawning. Gone is a relaxing chilled steady Sunday; across the road the Catholics play, sign, sigh, prey and hallucinate their God is present in the slim piece of wafer. Where is this comet, asteroid, plague or alien invasion; smite me first!

The coffee here is well flavoured and beautifully created(two barista(another vain term) are brilliant), but the physical vanity is stupendously unnecessary; white shirt and anonymously young girls used to increase footfall . Why is an everyday thing in Italy, France, Spain, etc so appallingly unreal in England; I've said it before I know? Costa is owned by corporate monoliths who destroyed the pub trade and now destroy coffee so you can't go there. Or you have Morrison's, Ask, Saint Angelos, North Street Deli, the petrol stations or mother's TV breaking the dawn silence everyday. What is it with Wetherby? The one greasy spoon is too cavernous and uniquely prole. F&U care about their coffee, but also know nothing about relaxing. North Street has a relaxed atmosphere but the coffee sucks(sorry guys). So fake off; is Wetherby melting(special).

The subtle breeze blows away the sun for now and allows us to breath free of difficult sweats. It was time to write and thank the Friary of s'Hertogenbosch for their hospitality, during my passing through Den Bosch on that long hot summer's day, and then depart from Wetherby on the quarter to four bus. Hopefully I will see Lucy, late of Leeds now back home in Dublin, Monday and perhaps shed a tear for Dan; he introduced us.