Inner cell.

Dreamt I was trapped in no man's land in a holding cell - Quarantine or Lazaretto - nearly within Soviet Russia. One false move and I'd never be seen again. Trip wires everywhere and troop movements too. But I was eager to get in. The cell was surrounded by borders filled with bedding plants. I wasn't alone. I awoke in panic, as it felt real, looked round and saw I'm in a cell ... The Dutch lady said this was a bath house in the early 20th century, but it screamed cell to me. Now I wait for coffee. Day fourteen. Might find Saint Jean too close to departure date for comfort. Definitely think It'll be Monday morning walking too, if I don't have Sunday off walking. Can I keep walking, walking, walking. Five more days. Then I can say, in my life, I've walked the entire length of France : bully for me.

Some people would revel in knowing that they'd manage to cover all this distance. But I can't help thinking it doesn't mean anything at all. I end up still feeling abysmal. We agreed that a pilgrim has to be slightly insane to walk from dawn until you reach the end; day after day without any idea why I am putting one foot infront of the other, sweating my head off from dawn until dusk, carrying too much weight, because you could always drop some items from the backpack even when you think you're pretty good at only bringing essentials ... It's coffee time at just gone six.

The host of the Gîte spoke no English, but made up for it by shouting French and going over trivial details on a map, as if I've not followed a map since Limoges? It was his way of being helpful, so I withstood it until I cried off telling Tres Fatigue ... And went into the room to be paranoid about Tiger Mosquitoes. They clean the streets very early around here: I thought it was a hairdryer until it sounded like a hurricane once it was outside the building. So I am awake slightly before alarm settings ... OK ... Cloudy day, but 90% humidity. I reckon thunderstorms.