Seven.

Here I am. On the shore of Lake Geneva with the mountains rising behind it. Robert, my American Stanford graduate host, has Italian ancestry so was on the Via Francigena when I messaged him about a night here before setting off on the Via Gebennensis towards Le Puy. My aim is to reach Le Puy in maybe three weeks or just less (I intend to head back to UK around 15/16th), but I will have to go back a slower way missing the Easter hordes heading back to the UK on budget carriers: buses all the way, however that is many days away.

He's left me here so he can head into Geneva and get me the yellow guidebook I will need to find a place to stay. He's got a copy from 2017, but refuses to let me take(pay) his and he get a new one later. He says he has an number of errands in town and has a train pass anyway.

Briefly I wandered to lake side, but it's quite cool without a jacket. I will pass it on the morning anyway. This is all pretty prosaic. The long morning did me in and even the deep meditation didn't resolve the cloud which passed over me in the airport. Clumsily, I knocked an IKEA lamp from the bedside table and it cracked. It's a rotten thing to happen and I found it really hard had to confess my accident: did I apologize just now? Robert thanked me for telling him.

Robert provided a Rösti, which he admitted he had burnt a little, and a Tomme cheese for lunch. It's all fantastic. The road will lead me on tomorrow.