Ignore the pigs of war and eat pork.

Half past four and another stage complete. Such a peaceful walk from Arras to Bapaume, passing Sunken Road and Gomiécourt (stopping for lunch) commonwealth war graves. On leaving Gomiécourt I said thank you and sorry to those buried there. It was cold when I left Arras, but blue skies from east to west, by afternoon still bright looking down on these corpses. What were we thinking marching to Tipperary to get our bodies ripped asunder?

The highlight of today was passing an exposed shell and two grenades, one British and one German, corroding in the mud. I moved the German grenade with my foot gingerly - and thought better of that action ... You never know with explosives? Not after 100 years for sure! Just before I happened along this cache of armaments I was lost in thought. Deep in the ego resisting this walking. As I gave it a stern telling off, and began with another lesson from the Course, out of my mental haze stood these horrors.

Obviously with that much death and destruction in this area for four years there must be a million bits of left over ammo waiting to be shown up once the soil is ploughed, or after heavy rains wash away the earth. And, just after this cache, I came across a wine bottle which was probably more recent, but I would like to think some Tommy got plastered the night before he was blown to smithereens while getting only one foot out of his doomed trench. I brought two beers for my journey. Had the first at eleven and the second at one. Both worthy biére de garde wayfarer types (but Petrus). I finished the second as I thought "humble" by the dead scattered all about in Gomiécourt.

Now I am at virtually the first house on the Via Francigena as you enter Bapaume. It took me a couple of conversations in the town before Ronnie collected me and took me at least 10 kms back the way I had come. I thought no! This would be very difficult to cover the ground before leaving Bapaume for Péronne. Thankfully he went to his partners to collect some food for tonight. And now I am back where I spotted a scallop shell three house off from the start of Bapaume. Phew. Time to repose until dinner.

...

Ronnie's missus is Polish, I think, as he speaks no English at all. The meal was as many pork products as that fine nation can prepare. Ribs, gammon, pressed ham, smoked sausage, paprika sausage obviously with sauerkraut and potatoes. We had three helpings each but nearly exploded with that intake; I think his cat - Baboon - has his one good eye on the mountain of leftovers.

The fromage I brought from Arras is left until the morning. I even refused a dessert. Good calorific food as it is another 26kms from here to Péronne; I can stay at the presbytiére tomorrow, which has space for two. After that it may be I pay for a Chambre d'Hôtes in Trefcon. The day after is 37 kilometres. That is simply too much for one day's walking with the sack I am carrying. On the map I noticed a train stop enroute from St Quentin to Tergnier. There is nothing in me that would allow me to try 37 kms with this weight!

Ronnie has a fire in his dining area and the aroma of wood fills my mind after that divine meal. It would be great for me to be able to converse with him more as we both have a similar feeling about war (at least I feel this by his expression in that there is no sign of vengeance when we discussed those unfortunate souls in The Jungle) but it is impossible, even though my French is improving, I am très fatigué. Goodnight.