Fifty-two.

Brilliant day. Walked towards Gevrey-Chambertin from Dijon along a yellow marked pathway, until I realised it was simply too far without any refreshments, then hitched to it. First person dropped me at a roundabout second driver took me direct. He had to go to the dump with some building rubbish. Once I opened the door a couple of lovely eyes looked up at me from the fit space: Paco his Labrador companion. At the tip I helped him dump the old pallets and tiles: it was a kind of workout and I threw the rules with a lot of force into the various skips arranged about this cliff surrounded space. When we drove through the route of the Grande Cru be pointed out the space in Bouchon which was his families. Burgundy was a true revelation, but you pay for the stuff... Phillippe LeClerc cave was my destination, after repase and fussing another dog, so I paid for a very very educational degustation and learned that the monks who tended the vines, for centuries before the French Revolution, knew a hell of a lot about the geology of the soil and really broke the land into truly different representations of Pinot Noir: such a noble grape. But I'm am a lowly paysant si really couldn't go off with cases of the fantastic stuff: had to settle for a 1er from 2013: the year when all this Camino crap first got into my veins!

Brilliant until the rain mixed with my tears after an arrogant American, living in Chamanix, who dodged the drafted in the early 1960s, etc, declared the first world war did not matter. It doesn't really matter, but it's hard to forget the senseless sacrifice of millions on the East and Western fronts could be so dismissed, out of hand by a wanker of yank. His wife chirped, as he said WW2 mattered more! By his own declaration all war doesn't matter, but history doesn't have lines in the sand, unless for you it's only when Americans lose lives? That's what I expected from the most arrogant self centred civilization this world has yet to drop on us. Please let him return to his ski resort retirement bollocks and come face to face with the reality of the 20th as I often do when I see a monument to Mort aux Enfants in every city, town, village or hameau aller over Europe. It's gone though and we won't be fooled any more, will we, by those who lie to get is all killed for our banking masters?

So I've cried too much for a cause over one hundred years ago, but I know that many beautiful people, dogs, horses, birds, insects, plants and trees were churned into a bloody stinking mess for nothing except to fight again and again to keep the rich and frightened bankers secure behind their heavily guarded lives. What are they really up to???