Leaving the station.

Fresh underwear is a revelation, but the time had surely come?

A decent night's sleep with some intense dreaming. Feature length dreams fueled by the cheese course at each French meal. Last night's acceuil du pèlerin was a disused railway station. For the remoteness of place it was massive.

Look at the Pyrenees to the south: mighty, yet serene. Unhurried they are still moving pushing up the land behind: a force in nature beyond our wildest misunderstanding. Now I head due west on the disused railway line in Pamier for around nine?

Tragedy has befallen me! The ever reliable fork, knife and spoon set I was presented with in HMP Wealston are now two or three days behind me. Now I've no cutlery to eat this tin of lentils I've been carrying since then! Oh the humanity.