February 9th. Part 2.

It's just me at the refractory table. I've some saucisson, rye bread and a belly of local ale - three pints at The Foundry brew pub. Austin and Micael are out. It is nice to be here on the main thoroughfare in Canterbury alone. I am ready for the off. Canterbury has the cathedral and the pilgrims hospital for me. The main way is the same souvenir coffee shop retail parade that is representative of every town, city and suburb in this era.

In London I saw an Ethiopian roasting coffee for a genuine cup of what we no longer consider a luxury. St John's off Waterloo Road. The best cup I ever had was at the mediaeval fayre in Sherwood Forest back in 2008. Some mockery of the Knights of St John made Kava. Near to the optional original heart of that forest I felt the crusaders were home! There is no centre in a forest unless you are an outlaw keeping Him at a distance. Stout men in heavy garments polishing spears and swords for another go at the Saracens! Are we back there again in 2016 as ISIS claim their rights, but who are our Richard and who is their Saladin? Where is the help in this wasting battle? Who are the White Knights of our songs? Warning! Do not keep dropping bombs on innocent people or the pain will continue beyond our children's children! Just say sorry!

Now to bed, Austin arrived back and it was good to see him looking well - he has two new knees! It gets quiet in Canterbury at night and I see no invasive lighting streaming into my room so I will await the dawn with darkness floating into my thoughts. The bread I picked up at the Goods Shed was meant to be Rye Bread - surely it was the least moist bread I could have chosen to be labeled thus. Oh well maybe that is some revenge the KFC I gobbled down at one? Night owl! Time to learn lesson 45 some more in peace and quiet.