A rebel without a clue.

Don't tanneries use urine to nap or cure leather ..  it seems pissing on my size 10.5s is a good thing to do to the material, but the metal does not like this form of abuse. During this sleet I'm going to keep it up and sort out the rust a little later. Like when there isn't gusts, rain and snow flying into my face? Mad weather to remind me where I am: Auvergne, no room at the various Inns(Accueil Jacquaire) for the penultimate night's rest & tomorrow the same. The lady of this Gîte d'Etape is drying my jacket and boots ready for tomorrow. Currently I only have €9 left so I'll have to send her €26 in the morning. My budget is €40 per day and any I have left I've sent straight back to Mum and Glenn. Mum's cleared but I'll still owe Glenn some, however he's OK to wait until the dog sitting weekend. As long as I get to Le Puy tomorrow: a 36kms day I am assured a bed in the same place this bonkers idea of mine began in May 2013. If I make it tomo...

Both of you have Parkinson's disease? Oh the humanity. The body or mind. Which one rules within and without. The body is powerless and the mind is relentlessly all conquering. Another woodpecker and a stiff corpse of a cat, then up into the woods for a last trepidicous climb to the high point on the Via Geb before straight ahead to Le Puy. Eating must surely be a question of trial and error. The minimum error is sustenance and the maximum is death. Mushrooms ... There is not much room for a mistake there? Is knowledge of danger an inheritance in our genes? But if one individual died as a result of ingesting the wrong grub how would the collect organism know this? Is heredity fully aware? I've read certain lichen is very good eating but, even though I'm sure what I see up here is Icelandic moss or something used in beer preparation and mead construction, I dare not try incase the ergot is present and I'm sent tripping onto another plane of existence? A drippy nose, ti...

The dogs have begun barking. Earlier the hounds were howling. You never need an alarm clock in rural France. When I went out to sit with them they all sniffed me again, one licked my hands, but mainly they wanted to keep warm in the sun. A garçon, of about 7, who came passed early yesterday evening, told me the one who didn't move had a problem with its breathing and was sure to die - 'mort' he spake - I continued to stroke it behind the ears a little tearful. He passed this comment with little emotion, although I could see something was working deeper inside. When I asked what the dog was called he said it had no name. Nothing has a name it is always just itself without an appellation - indeed a dog is not a dog really. Sometimes I see dogs as an extension of me, the ones who grasp my baby talk and Yorkshire tongue as never a threat. It is 5:52am on Saturday the sixth of April 2019 and I have more than 30kms ahead of me, to reach Le Puy for Sunday evening, today. Bloody do...