A rebel without a clue.

The rain is falling. It's perpetual. The fields are waterlogged and everything smells of damp corruption. So Autumn is in fifth gear. Soon the season should switch into winter mode and things should be stiller, but frigid and settled. Most of the trees have reduced to leafless shadows of their former majesty. There will be no variant to the bus journey from Leeds and back again until Emma sorts out the situation with the new house: it's two weeks overdue her moving in and things are a little tense at 42. Mum went to Harrogate for a change of pattern, even on a very wet day! Emma was about to go into bitching mode about living with mother. Finley was off school with a cold and said nothing to me as he passed the time on his iPad. Lola and I picked up Dan's Lola and had a good two hours threading through the margins of the ploughed up fields, stubble and fallow. Yesterday after the way I felt coming into 42, with its attitude problems, and the on going issue at The Mews, wher...

Returned to the hostel around five. That was my 'bite' of Toledo. It is a place which seems to have more history than just about anywhere: well that's kind of true of the entire Mediterranean basin. It has the perfect ingredients for the rise and fall of civilizations. A calm warm place, with occasional disturbances. And now I sit in a side street cafeteria and I am the only fool up at seven, except for the binmen, grocers and bakers. Toledo needs to start another day for UNESCO so rushed to put on a cleaned façade. Breaking all the rules this morning as the final slice of the moon is hanging above Plaza de Zocodover: it's my third coffee and I am being distracted by Real Madrid TV in the corner with its canned laughter at 8am. It's very easy when you can buy anything you desire. What fun is football when the depths of your pockets are as deep your countries national debt? Jumpers for goal posts and kicking a deflated ball, tennis ball, golf ball or tin can around a...

Black Friday. It's a con ... Can't you see what the TV is doing to you. Dragging you around and making you a slave. Christmas a single day to celebrate Love. Love doesn't increase with the giving of "gifts". If anything giving gifts is a proxy of Love in a loveless kingdom. I popped out to the only Spanish breakfast place I saw on my travels last night. Like all UNESCO world heritage sites McDonald's are slap bang in the centre killing the tourists on the inside while they walk slowly around the museums, churches and castles and are driven blind by the nonsense they read on each stone of merit. Told a sanitised version of the truth. The huge Alcazar sits above my weary head as the rain forecast begins in earnest and I think of the many who built this monster for the few. If I really had to rate a town simply due to the number of perceived historic sites to visit then I understand why a city like Carcassonne, Toledo or York would be a destination for those seek...

Time to get confused with how long I've been on this Camino? On Thursday 7th I left Alicante, on Saturday 16th I took a rest day and today is Thursday 21st: therefore today is the 14th day of walking from Alicante. In that time the only point at which I didn't walk was when a lady in Minaya took me from the Ayuntemento to Hostal Antolín because my boots were drenched and had copious water within so walking in them was impossible. Averaging at least 28kms a day I'm definitely at 400kms already - and this was my initial target! But I'm not in Toledo (the end goal) yet which is two more days away. However tomorrow is going to be atrocious all day - according to all the info on line I've read. And I still don't know whether to leave Tembleque on the Camino del Sureste or Levante! One is longer 31kms but has a town around midway the other is shorter, but has no stopping for 25kms. If I go the shortest way I'm left with longer to Toledo tomorrow with the heavy blu...

Most of this afternoon I have managed to sleep after the longer second section of the Camino today, which is perhaps something missing recently? After Villacañas i decided to leave the suggested Camino and head up towards the hills behind and all along: as it feels La Mancha is losing the plains! Just when I'd got sick to the back teeth of the monotony of the skillet, which bakes beyond human reason in August, there are obviously a rim of mountains ahead. It's been a long time since I actually got to Santiago Compostela on these Ways - June 2013. I've a memory of the crowds of pilgrims the last two times I passed through. But I've learnt quite a lot about the Way, and how you can be alone, since then. This time I've not seen a soul until yesterday when a guy coming up from Murcia stayed at the same Casa. It's his first Camino, which he aims to finish around 25th December in Fisterra and the host, who did my head in a lot with his whittering, gave him such a brea...

Sometimes I get so nervous when I enter a bar where locals are engrossed in their lives. Behind me a guy chicks Euros into a one armed bandit and the old men cluster at the other end of the bar. I am hungry, but a little bored of Tapas on the bar: but this is Spain and this is their way! But sometimes is not heated up properly. It's a little rushed at times: in the microwave for a few seconds only. It needs longer! I am paid up for another day(€20), but now the rain got here. The casa rurale is cold, but calm for the moment. Really I think yesterday in the gentleman's home was too intense for me and I didn't start today in quite the correct manner. Indeed I had to have a second breakfast in Villacañas before set off on the longest part of today. The weather gets to folks here too. It's obvious as they're so used to warm this kind of cold is very difficult to deal with. Today all colour seemed washed out in a pastel haze, and it was total except for a few fragments o...

Locals are up clipping back the vines ready for the next vintage - which shows such dedication considering the amount of labour required to cleanly prune every bushvine? *** Yesterday was a day of lots of vines and little else to occupy the distance to the first "Gîtes d'étape" style accommodation I have seen on the way! It's is known as Casas Rurales and there is another place similar coming along. Today is the first day of a lot of rain. No prevarication today with the fact I must set off in all the waterproofs I brought: even if this means wearing gators too. It's not hot so wearing the trousers isn't the pain in the neck I find when it's warm and humid! Time for breakfast as the TV suggests, untruthfully, the world is going up in flames. 24 hour news is just there to fill the populace with fear. *** After all these years of walking I still don't really know what it is I go hoping to find? There are occasions where all depression and anxiety vanishe...

A huge bed last night, with plenty of layers, and I didn't arise for an evening meal. Now I'm waiting for the Hostal to open its doors. It's a little after seven and I think I can hear folks stirring next to the door into the cafeteria? School buses head off and I must wait patiently. It's another cold morning and I made one mistake when I didn't put my boots in a position to dry: so they're a little damp. No it doesn't open until a quarter to eight: enough time to realise my boots are quite damp. Oh well. My fault. I was tired last night, so stayed in bed once they showed me to my room, but I forgot to deal with my boots. The damp is always the case when I'm sweating, walking through puddles and gore-tex is doing it's worst! Now I'm preparing to carry on a 8:30am. I've a choice of two ways: one misses out a few roads and a town and is 15kilometres, the other offers cafés etc! Missing out the towns and staying rural this morning! "Is it?...

Good night's sleep, occasionally woken by the noise from the heating system, but it's ok. All my clothes are fresh, folded and packed. My shin is still ill and will be every day until I properly rest it? Left the room as I found it and headed out for desayuno before sunrise. Really would like to bathe in a long deep bath soon, but that will also have to wait until Blighty? More churros and chocolate, instead of tostada con tomate, and fresh orange juice from fresh Valencia oranges is very good - Zumex machines I'd never twigged before what their use was as so few people in the early morning seek zumo de naranja. Twenty six kilometres today, but three villages on the way into Toledo Provence then Toboso and tilting at windmills like a fool or someone who yearns for different times? Finally a break along the way where I can get a little brunch. This hasn't happened at all along the Camino between Alicante and now and there is another town prior to the end of the stage tod...

Happy to be in a warmer environment than the last two nights. And to have reset my attire to fresh. This town is crap. It's a road running between Madrid and Albecate with sour faced solumn men trudging by not acknowledging me. As it's cold, dank and drizzling it's possibly the weather doing it? Some loud and Bolshoi youths stand on a few corners kicking the pavement and kerb for entertainment. Sounds like many British towns during autumn however by July most locals kids will be falling about flaking under the burning sky whereas in the UK it maybe another season of kicking the kerb: if the Tories win. It's my intention to be asleep before nine, warm and toasty, ready for tomorrow and one of the most famous vistas in all of literature: the very windmill sails Don Quixote went tilting at in his blind chivalric stupidity. This means I'm in Toledo Provence and only five days off the goal. My shin is brutal after two or three hours on the way. Popped into the bar neares...

Today I feel fresher. Took me a while to get up from the warm sleeping bag and step out to -1°C in San Clemente. Long John's on this morning. It always looks odd wearing these tight legged affairs, but they are very thermal. Headed out to find café and stumbled around for thirty minutes until a Churros cafe was gathered around by the he Sunday hunting fraternity. Now I'm warmed by chocolate and churros and heading out into the world beyond San Clemente where all the world is still and tinged with a haw frost. Dogs howling and barking and the distant sounds of gun shot: oh this is such a holy day? One where holes are driven into innocence. Then more rain. An hour of very intense, but fine, drizzle and the continuous breeze, which I had forgotten the last few days, as a companion after Santiago de la Torre - a fine ruins of a castle. Biting off chunks the bread and Salchichón secco, which had been bouncing in my lunchbox since Monteforte del Cid, I faced the final hour feeling mo...

A rest day is what I really needed and San Clemente is large enough to hang about in for an extra night. My shin feels less enflamed today too, but I wish my head was in the same vein? Too many local wines yesterday. But it is fine! I will repair soon. Turned inside for an hour. Three separate vibrations of the phone brought me out of the meditation. I forgot to turn the thing off to charge. Oh well. The sun is shining through the light curtains. The room is very cold, but I'm in my sleeping bag snuggled so tomorrow I start again on The Way. I've not much longer to go really between San Clemente, a very pretty place to relax, and Toledo the original capital of Castile, before Madrid. Been around the various parts of town and it's stacked with vintage buildings and nice squares, but there are too many cars. Every road I went down sooner or later one came rumbling down the cobbles and it was getting to me. Then I ducked into a bar for a glass of water and a slice of Tortilla,...

Now it's mud I must contend with and this is really adding to the chin strain as the weight on my feet just doubled. 27.70 33.90 30.84 37.15 26.84 42.61 42.19 16.94 18.85 The distance on The Way each day, without the mileage covered after the walk and prior to bed or before breakfast in the morning. Today was unbearable so what can I do about this shin? I've asked if I can stay here another day, but that has the potential to ruin the vibe! I'm in a very cold albergue on the edge of San Clemente. The local Manchego is divine so I've stopped for a plato and an obligatory Alhambra Verde(reserva 1925) because the other cerveza I've come across is not so nice! My shin is definitely buggered. Oh and the wine is nice too - Puente del Rus - this is the problem I have once I know I'm not walking - alcohol!

The helpful hostess has given me an ice pack for my shin and I recall this is why I didn't actually feel the pain on the way. It was so cold and wet on my ankles that I didn't feel the cluster of pain I had been experiencing, before I got away from La Roda, with every step I took along the path I was upon. *** Jaded. I'm awake going through the routine of getting ready for one more stage. It's not a long one if I decide to go along either of the Camino: Sureste or Levante, leading from Minaya, as they split again before coming back together in Toledo Province in a few days. Thankfully the kind gentleman yesterday put my wet clothes and drenched boots somewhere that by this morning there is no damp in the boots! I've treated the boots as they went through a lot of punishment in the driving intense rain. By noon, when I'd done for the day, the skies were clearing back to standard blue. Today I should opt for another short stage and see how my shin is once I get go...

Full to busting from lunch. Thank you Minaya. And the people in Hostal Restaurante Antolín for helping me in such a difficult moment. Now I'm most worried by my right shin. Both feet are a little tender, but this will pass, however my right shin is truly inflamed. It wasn't there yesterday, but this morning there was an obvious tenderness. While walking in the down pour it was the most difficult aspect, including being soaked by the time I arrived here in Minaya. Perhaps I go ask the hosts if they have any cream along the lines of Voltaren? Otherwise I am busted for tomorrow. I'm due a day off but does this mean I have to stop moving? It got unbearable but the cold, wet and the road took my entire pain threshold: only once I stopped did it become the dominant feature of eight days on this blasted way! This hotel is both a local and a truck drivers passing point. The lady behind the bar gave me Voltaren 100mg tablets. But they're not localised. The local pisshead tells m...

So tired this morning. Being in the Mercado, as the day begins, isn't a sign I am awake! Clearly as I yawn over my cup I'm having troubles. What could I do without coffee on a morning when my whole body is reaching for oxygen. My right shin is aching this morning too. Inflammation requires rest. Today is only 16 kilometres. Is this rest? Some people who walk everyday on Camino walk less some days and consider that a rest. Back on my first Camino I had a 15 kilometre day before I reached Aumont-Aubrac and then had a day off before the day I got caught in a snow/hail/sleet storm in May 2013. When I saw the Tour Anglais in Aubrac at 1300 metres I was so relieved! Once I deposited my backpack in the Tour I realized everything in my sack was drenched! *** That was as much as I could do. I've never been so wet. I was walking in buckets of water as the rain poured into my boots. For the final five kilometres I couldn't feel my feet or hands and the cold was spreading up my arm...

Another day down. Should it be this way? From tomorrow the stages are a little closer together so I feel a more leisurely pace and later set off time. Mostly I love walking around or just after sunrise bit the last few days the afternoon has gone on and on. Ducked into the first bar in La Roda for obligatory Alhambra Verde, but they also have Roja so it's two. Walked passed an inglorious number of battery farms catering to the carne lovers. My lunch, in a town which feels days ago, was a mountain of the schweinefleisch which is dictated by Spain's love affair with all parts of the pig. It got me here into La Roda without losing my mind in the awful windy and cold weather that was against me, but now I feel I've been a bit unkind just eating whatever was available in the tapas display wherever I went. In the previous town I asked for beans(frijoles) but she only had Tortilla on the veggie front. *** The Albergue Today is at the edge of the town as I came in and I really don...

The rule which states that 24hr news must be relayed in every café in the world is definitely part of the problem. It's either that or some overwhelming music - on the radio or TV channel banging against the head of morning peace. It's planned to keep the masses in their fearful places stressed by the projection. In my society all TV would be banned in such social places as cafés  - in days gone by they were a forum for the disenfranchised who could go to discuss, consider, debate and change the way. Or I'm I wrong? Are the lower classes ever going to overrule the ways of the 1%? The peasants will remain peasants and perhaps that's a good thing ... It's time to leave another café for another day on The Way. The gentleman running the bar tells me it's going to be very fresh today - I ask does it ever stop being windy on La Mancha ... This is The Way and I'm definitely winning time off in Purgatory - whatever. Guilt has driven me mad! What have I really done t...

Sublime walking experience clear blue crisp, grass to walk upon, passing Laguna after Pétrola! The main way misses out Chinchilla, but why? For three days it's been me and wind! Why miss out lunch on a mountain top. My arse must shrink and expand easily: suddenly I've a case of chaffing like no other ...but it was 36 Kms straight ahead! Oh nice it was forty-two kilometres. That's it, you won La Mancha! Apparently it gets colder and windy-er ... Can't wait. Showered and to bed. Definitely need a soothing cream for my nether regions!

Not such a perfect Albergue last night. Next to the church the bells rang every quarter of an hour and twice on the hour. I had many 10 minute intervals of sleep. Luckily from 1700 until 2230 I was so exhausted I didn't really register at all the blasted things. Today is either 22 or 35 kilometres ... Chinchilla or Albecate. But I really feel flawed. La Mancha is breezy and cold. Cool to be on the plateau I've read much about, but now I understand how inhospitable a place it really is! Walking in July and August must be a different kind of personal murder. The purpose of Camino de Santiago is penance for sins and half of the penance is the self flagellation of carrying so much stuff through such a desolate environment: it often reduces me to tears ... So far not this time, but it's only my third day in amongst nothing but my bare self! Time to eat Tostada con Tomate and contemplate another long road ahead? Yet this is the trap. It's only a step at a time, not a race and...

Another boring day. Perhaps without the wind directly in my face I'd not be pushing myself to arrive so hurriedly to the end of the walking day! There was a small highlight when I crossed through a small regional park with dwarf oak trees, leaning together against the frigid winds, where I stopped for lunch huddled against their shelter from the gale which gave me a chill yesterday when I stopped for food!  Once passed this promentary I had the longest straightest boring-ist section of 7 kilometres I've every had - actually Landes was far more boring, except for the tree cover! Now I'm in Pétrola and I can't be bothered to move - some fine olives and a beer, but I feel weary suddenly! *** In every Albergue a different challenge. This one I can't recall how to light a calor gas fire. I'm holding down buttons and I'd made sure the canister is full. But I'm lost. It used to be the time the button was held down ... But really it's so long since I sat nex...

It's freezing this morning - la Mancha for it's temperature ups and downs. Heading across the road for breakfast of champions: tostada con tomate and to listen to the jumble of voices I cannot fathom - their conversations could be witty, dense, deep or banal and I will never know. Politics in Spain heading to extremes it seems: haven't we been here before? Could there be a military Junta in the 21st century? If only all politics could put aside their differences to find the common ground, but humans don't like to compromise. We want to control existence in all its guises! Something didn't digest so well during my sleep and I work up with palpitations, sweating heavily and thinking I'd left with the keys! How strange as I was still in bed! Less intense day today. 20 something kilometres. Apparently there is a pilgrim a day behind me: the host of the Albergue wanted to give me a lift forward yesterday but I refused and he informed me. If I take a rest day at some ...

Saved by the vines. It was the longest day! 35 Kms into a gale. It's the hardest day I've know. Gladly it didn't rain. Some ominous clouds along the horizon, but they, somehow, stayed there! Today was exceptionally tough. Now I am enjoying local Jumilla wine, but the locals seem unimpressed by the wonderful thing they have all around them Monastrell grape is divine to eat and the wine is definitely helping me off to a warm bed! It's only old men holding up the bar I stumbled into and the first one I struck, before I was taken to my bed for Sunday, the girl behind the bar is their granddaughter and she's totally in control. The tapas is good and the vino is exceptional. I'm heading to the Restaurante near where I'm sleeping and if it's not open I keep warm until another day beckons! *** 101 years since the end of the "war to end all wars" and wars are still happening as the result of western imperial arrogance, Russia ignorance and, usually, mal...

The same old questions. Why keep at this? The relentless pushing pushing to reach what exactly? Over just the next crest of a hill is the truth I seek. Searching for what? Which moment of truth am I hoping to have spring out of the mind in which it's locked away? Stop here for a cup of tea. Then I start up a usual high street. Where two routes converge. The one from Benidorm meets the one I'm on from Alicante. The sign of the Camino says stop again. So a copa vino Vinalopõ and tapas. I will continue again shortly. Unexpectedly today I had to find a bush in emergency and then, more or less, directly afterwards a migraine. My body rejecting some melancholic disposition as a different way lies ahead? Or simply a few days of too much meat with little vegetable, fruit and too many excellent wines? Soon I will be in La Mancha tilting at windmills like the buffoon I am! *** Food was calzone. And I'm yawning. But I'm kind of caught in the other Spanish obsession: Barcelona or R...

Well, no I didn't sleep well.  Firstly the bar next door was loud until early Saturday morning. The room has no Aircon or if it has it only appears to be warmer with it on. Just like on another Friday night, not so long since, I simply couldn't find a light switch or the toilet door in the pitch dark so did a pee pee on the floor! The room needed the shutters and blind down, as there is a bright street light next to the window in the passageway between two streets. Stumbling around this room, because I'd forgotten how it was orientated, I ran out of time on my bladder. Perhaps drinking too much doesn't help? I do feel tarnished. What is wrong with me? I know why I am in Spain: to leave behind the other person I dislike so much! After all I am walking for better mental health. So now I am aware of how easily I forget why I come away to throw my body at gradients, paths, dust, rocks, mud, etc because it really works. The real walk begins today. Remember this is the way ba...

 "In  Sax,  there  is  a  famous  medieval  castle…  that  I  never  visited,  because  I  was  too  lazy,  staying in  my  luxurious  hotel  room  or  eating  ice-cream  in  one  of  the  bars  in  town." After thirty odd kilometres I too won't be heading up to the Castello either! Checked into the Hotel, which is a sting at €35, this does include a proper breakfast, however I can't have it until 8am. The room has Aircon shutters and blinds so I expect I won't have a problem sleeping until the beep of my alarm, which I've set for 7:30: last night was pretty bad for an albergue as the street lights poured in, the bed was very short and the wind was intense! Tomorrow I must find a more reasonably priced option. The list of places suggests Caudete. In which case this is the way I'm heading. In Caudete there is a member of the Camin...

Walking out of Alicante gave me a slight problem breathing with sheer number of cars, trucks, etc. First thing this morning I have to get to next town for Desayuno as Orito is very small, without even a shop. Five kilometres on Asphalt to a very desolate town for breakfast - these types of towns exist fairly often on the Camino, but not as frequent as the historic ones. Monteforte del Cid. Day two is a little tedious so far as I follow the train tracks between Alicante and Madrid to my left. Soon I'm sure to leave the thundering of high speed trains behind? Finally away from asphalt to Via Pecuaria - which I think translates to drovers path? So after a lot of ups and downs, over a aqueduct where I dared not but walk straight ahead, no eyes Looking down, I'm in Petrer. Hasty Tapas and beer. Need to slow down and eat leisurely. They're doing me Menu del Dias early, thankfully, as I've another few kilometres ahead this afternoon - perhaps 10 - before I reach Sax. The touri...

Coming down from Cueva de San Pascual - 414 metres - I saw many many strips which seemed to be wrapped in plastic! The closer I got I realised this was tarpaulin/netting and these were vines. The leaves were dried but the grapes were secluded in packages. The occasional bunch had escaped so I saw massive grapes. Yet being here, near the sea, where wine is too much to ask of the grape, I thought this must be a mistake in my knowledge? Large grapes don't make Grand Cru wine. And until the lady of the Comisaria told me, and gave me a huge bunch that tasted just like honey, I didn't know they were just for eating! Heading in for repase I expected the wine must be awful here, being such a simple outlet, but the Rueda Verdejo washed down the fantastic paella, chicken and chips and copious salad, all for only €8, it felt only right and proper to sit in the shade outside and have another copa! Bed for the night turned out to be €16, not a Donativo and the beds are too short! 

Vitamin D and antidepressants, Vitamin D or antidepressants??? Guard dogs wish me luck as I follow tarmac and a mountain is deconstructed. What took millions of years to lay down at the bottom of some ocean (Cretaceous) is being gouged away in a few years: leaving our world behind is easily done. Taking away geology to build roads: the land laid flat, bare: featureless. *** After a fantastic "Menu del Dias" at Bar Nuevo in Orito I am happy to pay €16 for my bed in the Casa del Peregrino. My body really didn't like today. It fought me all the way. This is because I slept unsoundly in Alicante. Market Hostel is neat, but it is loud. Even when I actually hit real Spain ... Away from the Barros and the Gitanes at the end of town it wasn't quite far enough away. Then the huge operation deconstructing a mountain for its asphalt: I suppose it is dead, and is mainly made up from very forgotten ancestors, yet I felt slightly disturbed by this huge opera...

The second day in Alicante was beginning to bore me. Three times I had been to the Basilica de Santa María and there is literally no open door - which seems odd for the main church in the old town? For sustenance I've eaten some seafood by the Mercado, which did repeat on me slightly, and later on I had a simple dish of Patatas Bravas, which was all good. (Perhaps I will try once more at the Basilica or maybe early tomorrow? Do they do Mass around 7:30am? Forget it for now. Back in room 3, where the younger hostess won't turn down the air-conditioning, I'm going to try to chill a bit...) *** Pre-dawn day one. After a good night's kip I'm ready to start this thing! I'm so predictable. Once I touch down in a new town I end up worse for it, suffer consequently the next day and regret it. Happily now I have a means out of the trap of hedonism: setting myself up for the day when I will need to be clear headed to walk and pay attention to now. This morning is still. I...

I willingly ran into a barbed hedge and then both sheep and cows jumped upon my corpse: but I didn't move and was happy to suffer the end of my life. But it didn't come, while I circled around the horror of my past, my life felt cleared. Except I knew I couldn't go anywhere unto spirit without Snoops along. At the final moment unto death I was missing something. It was a while before his absence reminded me. Just as I was about to step out to infinity I decided to stand and wait: but he was already there. It was the best dream. And now we are waiting together for another soul.

Down went my sack. And quickly was made the bed. So I will leave on Thursday. I've never been to Alicante, except during a dream (perhaps a nightmare)? This room has only four beds so I expected hassles. This was not to happen as all the beds are on their own and have curtains for privacy and to bring Wednesday to a close in darkness. This evening I have seen the route taken out of Alicante so I'm sure that's it for, God knows, how long? And it does as I'm sent, like all pilgrims, out of the darkness into the brightest light  But should I stay or should I go? I will sleep on it. It's not a race, but certain things must be in place before I stubble off ... Or do they need to be? Hanging about for a weary body? It's always falling apart now so ... I will sleep on't! *** This morning I've battled with an over warm room until I couldn't take anymore. Too many Amontilladoes and the heat drenched me, dehydrated me and gave me a slight headache. By 7am I th...

This morning I decided to reduce the dosage of SNRI as I do feel calmer with this new antidepressant - which I believe I've been prescribed at least 6 months - going from 50mg up to 115mg and now reducing it to 75mg. Counselling (Emotional Support) with Marie, once a month in The Light Surgery, is also very helpful as we just talk about whatever has been on my mind and I feel our conversations have a point and not too random, even for me, or going over the same old shit. That's the key I think to personal mental freedom. It's obvious that the answer to my problems is letting the past go and to stop worrying about those things entirely out of my control - which almost everything is? In my mind, as I try to meditate, be present or be still, I can feel this pressure not willing to just go. It literally feels like something is pushing back against my attempt at being here at the point, the threshold, the tip of the arrow, in the moment, the golden forever, which is the complete...

Leeds airport is fairly silent this morning. Contrasting quite with Leeds city centre and that rush to clock in. Dropped my bags in the oversized section: 8.6kg. This time no "emergency" sleeping backups. Last time round, between Bézier and Lourdes, I carried around two kilos extra for no reason. And I returned the book I was reading, "In Praise of Slow", to Wetherby Library yesterday: I found the author quite an Ego and super middle-class: once or twice he got me, but mainly I was rolling my eyes at his constant name dropping and feeling he didn't really know that "slow" is at every level of Being. On Monday morning I saw Marie in Emotional Support for our monthly counselling session and we discussed the book by Carl Honoré. At that point I wasn't about to ditch the book, but on the journey over to Wetherby to visit my mother and catch up with Lola, Hungarian Vizsla, the book was mired in these very middle-class suburban, urban gentrification stor...

Leaving Leeds on the 757 "flying tiger" around 8:51am... Need I say more? Brief visit to the Pret on Infirmary Street to eat a little. It's the worst time of day to check in here as all the flow of white collar workers ramps up as they scurry to occupy the desk and answer emails, mail, mobile and phone calls; call meetings, go to meetings. "I won't be able to print any receipts" the guy says to every customer. "White filter, flat white, mocha ... Any hot drinks. To go. To stay. It won't be long." These barista are robots. They never change their tone or make statements in anything other than monotonicity. The lines of customers towards the door shuffle forwards to face the music, but they really are not here; with blank gaze and a brief glance they do a one eighty and retreat to the chain and ball of their postgraduate existence. BPP offers gold plated dreams and old school tie launches bamboo handled umbrella into the sullen grey sky, heading ...

Silent ancient woodland. Next to the ruins of a Castela. Distant dog barks, cockerel and jet plane. As I stand still bird calls become apparent. Sweet chestnut trees are also endemic up here: they must grow slowly too as lichen has spread densely populating the bark in variegated shades of green and Moss lingers by their bases. Over one hill of 500 metres I've another valley to come down to. The first instance of another hazard on this meander: tics. Huge too. Got to it just before it hooked in. On second thoughts I noticed small wings on these tiny beasts, and I'm sure tics don't have wings being essentially an arachnid with eight legs! A quick search on Wikipedia tells me they're Deer Keds or deer fly which means I'm less afraid. Both hills done in around four hours! Nearly noon. Bit peckish: grab some juniper berries and hang on a bit longer. I hear voices ahead!

It's a full week since I set off back to Leeds, Wetherby, and the other world which pains me, and already my plans are to leave it once more. More walking because I am forever walking. So it's Sunday and I'm going to be quiet and composed all day in preparation for a full working week with Lola in tow. *** A trip to Harrogate on terribly bouncy vintage x70. It's all holes and draughts. Lola yawned all the way: but she's never cared less about the transport we're in. Yawning is a sign of stress: or so I've been told. But I wasn't enjoying this rickety bum bruising nonsense either. So we hoped off before the Showground proper. The driver was whistling tunelessly all the way in so I was relieved to hop off near The Travellers Rest and, obviously, Lola ceased yawning.

Am I a simple man overwhelmed by layers of bullshit or am I so arrogant looking down at everything I see as layers of crap? The wound runs deep, but the middle ground is not going to heal over the gap any day soon. There is nothing here and still I hope that there is. Along Boar Lane the buses run east and people go towards the station or away. What is this I see? It leaves me tedious. A suit, a hi-visibilty jacket, old and young black lady and white woman, father and son, girl with Caffe Nero in hand. I've half a mind to head to the Angel Inn and speak to someone as it's hardly probable in Tapped as they're more interested in burning pizzas. Number 444 flies eastward to Wakefield: now that it's a depressing town. Boar Lane? Imagine it when the hogs ruled out here? All fields then and no manmade cliffs. When I look up at five stories I feel we've constructed a wall, a canyon, a chasm: a gully where the sky is so narrow that heads are bent against the drizzle.