A rebel without a clue.

While I am blowing bubbles out my nose, I need to blow (into the ether goes this slime as I shake it into the wind) it's Friday! No forgetting today! That'd be insane! That was a tough stretch from Pamier. Intense at first up to Saint Victor. Just up into the hills. A halt then up on a forestry road to the top before a huge descent into Montégut Plantaurel. The couple looking out for pilgrims are on holiday - fuck. I'm taken in by a "wine" maker who I think makes herb wines, etc. They've had to nip out and I need to rest! Rest I did until mosquitoes came to rest on me like U2 spy planes. The acceuil pèlerin across the street is open, but vacant. Where am I to stay away from the evil bastards who operate over enemy territory during the day! If they are away does it mean I'll have hang about in this "Breuvages de Pyréne" Cave where I think the kids have been left to devastate the habitation while their parents are away? Bloody tiger mosquitoes: a...

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.