A rebel without a clue.

The last day of March begins With the sun cornered between Clouds and St James' Hospital And me sat in the same space Wondering when this will finish? The voices in my head are reaching Outward, from where they'd been Relegated to an occasional threat, To become emboldened by others Who always judge on partial evidence. Give me back my feet, and my Way, otherwise I will cave in And mutate again becoming lesser When all I seek is magnitude! Yet isn't it still my choice to walk? Bored of switching on the radio With it's list from panic measures, And hearsay, dropping "mights" Into the doomsaying with this Negative wassailing upward creep! Crawling back into the kitchen, Stirring, sideways, this familiar vessel, A subcontinential spicy ration, Breaking my fast, prior to One form of exercise without prejudice. Cruelly formulated in this cell, By those without a free instinct; Charmless, bland or banal. Gruel they serve up in bitter measures Isn't ...

Corona virus lockdown, on Day seven of mind control, (The state says in must be)! But something doesn't make sense To me. To become so overwhelmed - Just like so? By nothing. What is this fear Crippling us universally? Please will someone Speak truth about  What this smoke Is enveloping? And it's actual purpose Disguised. Running, With tail pointed down, From this impossibly Miniscule, but ruthless Sometime killer. Over my flat hovers, Gnat-like, Circling ready to pounce Sirens wailing, flashing Drawing our eyes Away. Just another brick Against the truth And what is coming, Really? Stalking us  When we seeded this Beginning ourselves! Building over The prison Completes. Around those free. A few casualties  Are nothing to the frequent Bombs rained down On Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Et cetera. In the name of no-one Human. What is it, beyond this Painful bend, They wish us to not see? It just feels like Déjà vu. And we're distracted Fools, Again!

Today was a game of two halves - During a bottle of Monastrell And picking my way  Back along the plateau, In my head, towards La Mancha. Day dreaming and drifting Too many footsteps! My brain is warped by Citra: So sick of brewing beer In such small quantities And quality might unhing me? Beer kit I was forced to sell (By the one most at risk)! All the most necessary kit To survive Corona Virus! But it insincerely Buggered off to Micklethwaite! Embraced by a Southbank middleclass Bastard! What's the good of Citra? Give me a noble hop Or a fantastic noble grape Not mind rot and pointless worry This organic vino seems OK, As the electricity went off (And I ran out on gas)! Such a silly situation, And all I want to do is walk!

What possessed you to apply? Did your friends with good advice implode? We should hang you up in chains Let you rot beside the ill-paved road Born too late for the First World War Siege of Troy was long before my time Naseby, Jutland, Agincourt Characters perhaps from pantomime Authors, sport, landlocked states Capitals of Europe and their size Breeds of dog, famous dates Kind of hoping these things don’t arise I don’t watch films in black and white The trees and flowers and birds have passed me by I’ll just guess and hope I’m right The first man into space was Captain Bligh Good luck back in work They’ll’ve heard you were on Have you got the file for Mr Out In Round One? Harken, a cuckoo! Or is it a wren? Don’t ever darken our doorstep again Truth is beauty, beauty truth All you know on earth, all you need to know Superb, succinct Pity then for you it’s not quite so Hickstead, Hickstead, Hickstead, Hickstead Duck Soup, 1933 Words beginning with K-N-O Words that end in B-H-E-A-D

Being homeless is a habit: Sorting through tab ends Vainly hoping for gold tipped Promise , lifting one up  Above the pideon pavement. Another person's discarded fag Is a surface where Covid lingers Opiated, but not finished yet! And these souls, unclean, Just wait to be gathered Into deaths cold embrace And turned out, cruelly, Onto a morticians slab "Here lies a habit disforming".

Up The Ridge, Combining exercise With necessities, and Spring is definitely thriving Sprung is my mood striving Approaching Meanwoodside. But now there is a queue Dominated by a whiner, Who is so afraid, Which makes me relieved For not being her head. Shopping for necessities, Like pineapples and crisps, (During abnormal times) Is an upside down prospective: Crisis pudding or pineapple pie? My turn comes Only 40 persons in But still no toilet paper Oh, hang on! That man's trolley lolls Heavily, like the girth Spread beyond belt. Next boon, In these odd times, It strikes down Gluttony? With my few items, Minus bog roll I collect a basket Wafer thin.

Outwards, Colluding exercise, essences And hopping a few green spaces. Going out some While, inner voice calm; Down. Being away, Always alone, Tranquil Sitting in the sun. Basking next the greedy pigeons Distanced, Walking all the back ways: Ones neither or others either! Onwards, Through insidious Merrion Lanes, Keeping the dumb (Beyond arms length) An obvious difficulty. Oblivious, Wake up stupid folk! Are the British always Somnambulant? Sideways And swerving; A few close shaves. So paltry isn't a mind, Yet a fly would linger Bemused! Riding around these vacant lots (Looking for a place to land) Noticing Zero; inevitable silence. Unbelievably four forks, Together, Are having a BBQ, Smoking the Leylands, As I waft home.

This is not a cry It is not, sighing, Begging for pity. This voice speaks For a man afraid. Death gasps; Not for fear. As, grasping, It is quite homeless Here. So, cheer What will be will be! But being alone Is without ears And, seeing no-one, Blinking back tears: Unjustified.

In the evening, of day one, Alone  Facing to the east. As the wind Feels this way: Caressing parting sighs And I dissolve Down the valley (Making sure Essex Dogs plays loud). On this inward retreat. Some hands seem chapped and, Where a heart is desiccated, It is integral to this boney city. Dried: clattered, Clapping at nothing and an Empty hollow: shattered Where a terra rosa stains Along rivlet driven tears And life dissolves there. Clay, lies uselessly Fat, under Fixated assurity. While, my heart dissolves Into a Rochefort's happy, holy, Vectoring attack, it Releases me - but I cannot step aside This appalling season. For a time of real, Bloody pumping, We forget those trusts, In which we know There is no answer!

Mike told me about a market in China, he visited, which dealt in "exotic" birds, who met their end, forlorn, in a Chop Suey, and we must ask ourselves why we think this is ever OK? Behind the padlocked gate, and locked door, of a battery farm is the not-so-exotic Chicken: who we deal with in a similarly ruthless manner - to incorporate into a Sunday roast or Southern Fried Chicken - and I ask myself the same question. Why do we think this is ever OK? The irrational answer given usually consists of an arrogant "because I like it", yet I would contend that this is a world where we are all one - you, I, Lola and the dawn chorus I'm listening to - and I shouldn't like what I am doing to "I" because the results can only ever be horror: Corona Virus is where this has led us? Yet I cannot dictate to anyone, because all life consumes matter to persist in existence! All the way up from single cellular to multicellular and, indeed, solar, interstellar and pa...

All day yesterday I've sat inside watching the world outside and all I know is I want to linger outside: yet I didn't. Why didn't I, when that is all my life needs? I'm not house bound. Lola is, but I've just no cause to be behind these walls? Did I think I was immune to humanity?  Royal Oak might be making me consider, yet I was still sat there holding nothing dear in my grasp. Whenever I sit in a pub, café, restaurant, or other social setting, I am always trying to understand what it is which makes people speak the way they do. However I find it so difficult to listen without prejudice: judging words, actions and deeds. Suddenly I am awake again! It takes me a little time to come out of the milaise I fall into whenever I transfer from true being (walking) and unreality (not walking). My answer isn't at the bottom of a glass, can, bottle yet whenever I re-enter society from my place of isolation that is what I do. This morning I was awakened by the ...

Well this does feel strange. Everyone, including me I suppose, is doing what they always do and, since I'm stuck in Wetherby for a while, I must go out. Otherwise I'm just going to end up arguing with mother who seems to think she is going to be fine because she says she will be.  Whenever I approach a group of people I'm veering away to let them breath on each other. Yet I was forced to go get milk for mother. We lived on other foods prior to being addicted to cow's milk in our tea or coffee, etc. In Morrisons there was "zero" milk so I got out as soon as possible: with a few resources under my arms - it wasn't a suckling pig but it was two bottles of Riesling: the theory being that I could drown in wine prior to suffocating, and it's a possible "Gallic" paradoxical qualities. This morning, on my brief walk with Lola, because some wanker threw a glass on the pavement near mum's house, and Lola has lost a lot of pad (thankfull...

Scott's Pub again. I've just done the tourist thing. Luxembourg, although ridiculously expensive (€18 for a bacon cheeseburger in Scott's), is interesting. Take away the Gucci/LV/Rolex Grand Rue in Haute-Ville, because it's always there for those who have nothing better to spend their money on, and it is an interesting town. It's history stretches back into another epoch: especially below Siegfried's burg (Lucilinburhuc) in Grund by the Alzette leading to the Moselle, north-north east of here. It's noon so time for another Cheeseburger! At some point I will venture back up to the Altstadt and find the local Vino ... Time is on my side ... and I will walk to the airport as it is little more than 5 kilometres from me! I'm hogging the fire, because it's a pretty cold day outside, they forgot to turn on the radiators so everyone is getting too paranoidly close to me for comfort. What am I like... It's the "Delay" stage now. And ...

Luxembourg YH reminds me of Thameside in London: it's huge, boring and makes noises all the time! It's more modern than Thameside, but time will also ravage it's façade. And I bet, for everyone I knew in London, here in Luxembourg is an alternate reality consisting of the same politics and dynamics going on ( because Hostelling International or the Youth Hostel Association attracts the identical people through its door)! It's what makes my experience of them so consistently average. Walking is now two days ago. The slight hangover and overwhelming tiredness I had yesterday has left me, but I know I definitely need a proper unbroken night's sleep. Soon I'll be able to climb my own bed - Saturday night - and let the weariness lift! Check-out time is ten am. No need to hurry out the door, but breakfast is very tedious (cold) and coffee overwhelmingly bitter (machine vended). Persons are arriving for work to replace the night staff - soon their equivalent of Beverle...

It's 8:50 and I'm on a slow train to Luxembourg. It's fine. I found a quiet part of the carriage and am trying not to breath in too much! It was so busy in the Gare because it's rush hour and there hasn't been any formal statement by Macron about life as the French know it. Actually he's banned gatherings of 1000+ people and what is a Gare? But I've passed into Luxembourg and am a little tired! All that walking , then those few bottles of Orval and an average night's sleep. Need to sleep in a cool, clean and quiet space! I wonder if there are Amis Saint Jacques in Luxembourg City? ... Booked into the Auberge de Jeunesse, in the old low quarter of Luxembourg City, and left my rucksack. After a quick freshen up I've walked through Clausel (which seems like Truman Brewery off Brick Lane), up to the Grund and popped into Scott's, because I've been on the go since six (again). As usual I can't check into the room until 1, but then a siesta is ...

Don't stay at Formula 1 because it's hidden amongst a ton of low rent empty industrial properties, in the north of Metz and surrounded by the train tracks and the main road passing from Paris to Luxembourg. But do stay there because it's the only option, the bed was comfortable and it's very easy to pack away your stuff and head over Moyen Pont and be in the centre in no time(20 minutes): ignoring the quantity of Kebab and Halal French Fries Chicken lining the student area thoroughfare; just like every student thoroughfare in existence! The question now is Train, Bus or BlaBlaCar? Not one atom of my existence really wishes to go to Luxembourg City, but yesterday I was left in Metz without an option of finding anywhere here I can really budget for. I've just booked into the Youth Hostel in a (Corona) mixed dorm, but, just as Mike said, there is probably much reduced tourists? Last night I spotted on two Chinks in our armour, and both were masked as they a...

Seven o'clock and all is very well. Another day on the Way, but the final one - for now. As I close the chapter on Germany, for now, as a means to walk the Jakobsweg there is still many ways in France which I am yet to set foot. In the north west, Brittany and Normandy, are areas I've not set foot for a long time! In Normandy it was 2013 and Brittany the summer of 2000 with French Life a very shady tent and caravan enterprise: didn't I work ridiculous hours to montage those bloody tents all over Brittany? Regularly drivers in rural France stop to offer me a lift forward. It is characteristic of French hospitality, but, even when it's raining, it's hard to say yes! Yesterday was one of the few times I said yes and was deposited in Kédange Sur Canner a little less drenched! Just now, on the way between St Hubert and Vigy (when I'd decided against the dog leg presented on the Chemin and followed the B road direct from Hombourg and Vigy) anot...

It rained so heavily all day and I had no means of escape. The way was probably quite beautiful, but I had no shelter from the deluge. Once I finally found the bed, and between Anne-Marie and myself made it as warm as possible, I didn't leave it until about six when I went to find something warm to eat! It won't be a late night I'm sure that once I've eaten I'm over and out. Just one more day left until Metz and this stupidity is over. During the walk today I felt alert and focused, even in the intense bursts, and I knew I'd find nothing open in this area of rural Lorraine just focused on reaching Kédange Sur Canner. However I've suddenly got a lot of strange mucus building up in my left nostril which, once blown, is intensely sticky and a little brown not green. It's not continual so it's probably nothing: my head's probably caving in! Hasty kebab and speedy march back up the Rue to No. 5. There is a warm bed and a book to read for a...

More rain! Too much rain! Oh well it's always a way. Between the edges of Germany, Luxembourg and France the Mosel gets heavier. Slept really well. Perl is still on an evening. Thanks to Mike I'm not nearly as broke leaving German territory as I have been while in it and this is probably the only time I will try a Jakobsweg because it is simply not that much 'fun' with this unnecessary fear. Money is always a huge challenge, for anyone, but I'm usually able to let that threat to peace recede on the Way: because I can budget for very little if the Way is properly designed to respect a pilgrim with a very frugal constitution. Until yesterday, and the moment's bliss spent in that moss strewn wood, while sitting for lunch, I'd not felt peace at all this time out! Money is one of the factors I know is on everyone's mind, and it's a real pity, because it hides so much joy inside locked away. To escape from the anxiety a lack of enough funds to survive dail...

Awoke with the sound of the birds from the green space, behind the Kolpinghaus, around five so I packed up my gear before heading back for another hour and a half when the squark of Crows brought me ready again. Now I'm on the corner of Konstantinstraße and Brotstraße in a Bäckerei (again). Inside something is stirring saying enough is enough of this! On the way out I definitely need fruit not Puddingschleife. It's Monday morning and, as the world stirs into its perpetual groove, I decide to carry on until I'm further from it and collected some satsumas and a bottle of Kombucha. If I have a preference on a Camino it to follow the sources of water - either upstream or downstream - rather than walking along exposed ridges: Roman Legionnaires had to have thick Worsted undergarments to keep the proverbials warm! However I was just reminded by the Mosel that very cold winds can rifle down the valley from where the waters meet their makers! ... Bloody great big sign saying herber...

The earliest and cheapest flight I can get to return to the UK is on Friday from Luxembourg. Never been to the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg really, although Glenn and I went through the duchy on our way from Metz to Liege with a BlaBlaCar host. It's another 4 days from Trier to Metz which might be 3 for me if I walk distance and miss out one suggested halt? However the flight isn't until the evening so it'd be ideal to get a Flixbus direct from Metz to the airport and have Thursday night in Metz (hopefully in gites d'etape/auberge set aside for pelerins). So I should slow down the next four days and take it all in! I am tired this evening so I really should have an early night. It is raining lightly and it's deathly quiet on the streets, but I should probably eat. Perhaps not typical German fayre although it might be the best thing to put me into LaLaLand? Here I am a Früh establishment and I don't feel the menu and I've never really cared for Kölsc...

Done by Noon. The end of the Ansonius Weg. Kolpinghaus for rest And to wash necessities But first Kartoffel Suppe And another Fein Herb. Gutsriesling is good Soup is warming my gut. Make it two! Sommerpalais My brain is cloudy And the noise goes up! Misaligned nor adjusted To voices I barely Comprehend.

Walking through the valleys and over the hills in the Hunsrück is fantastic on a day where rain seems only to threaten and not create. Another chunk of fortune fell my way! Nowhere to eat again: indeed I'd not seen a soul until just now in Gräfendhron (which sounds either Welsh or Elvish from Lord of the Ring?). Seeing a sign pointing to "Landhaus" I walked behind the church and on the left there were numerous Transit type minibuses outside what looked like a hostel. Looking in the window I could see a dining room and some people were milling about. I knocked on the window, but I was simply too far away, so I walked behind to where I assumed the kitchen was. One guy was coming out the door at that moment and I told him my predicament! He let me use their WC and gave me a cup of tea. Before I left another guy gave me a lot smoked dried 'rind' sausage(beef) and a holey cheese! Then just now arriving in Berglicht I found a Kneipe which was open. With just...

Well I slept perfect until a flyover around four am - we're close to Hahn Airport here - feeling the persistent pain in my right shoulder I always struggle back to sleep once I'm awake and so I got up around six thirty. Everything is dried and repacked. Suddenly I feel a little weary. This is mental as well as physical: fatigue is a deep weariness. On  The Way I've been looking for some answer around the next bend, but it's impossible! Outside is not where the lack I perceive is - which I've told myself so often (once I recall the foolish notion that anything outside can cure me). To be consistently in touch with being on  The Way  is possible, usually the weather does help - although it shouldn't - but I set off with the forgotten ideal yesterday so almost got myself into difficulty. The difference this morning is I didn't sleep with the misdirection of having to endorse local beer! In Kirchberg, because it screamed local brewery, I was lobotom...

Today was a challenge. From the very first moment the heaven's kept tanking down on me so I couldn't take in any of the Roman remains or little deviations suggested along the Römer Straße. The one village I passed through for lunch wasn't an option as the Gasthaus wouldn't be open until five. When I'd just about lost it, and took a wrong turn, a bus shelter came to my rescue so I could change out of an exceedingly wet base layer. The lady from the Pilgerherberge yesterday did say that there was nothing from leaving Kirchberg until I arrived in Gonzerath, but when she said nothing I kind of thought she meant something, but just not very much! My breakfast wasn't enough and what I brought with me was cold and not enough. Once I'd changed out of as many wet clothes as was possible I'd just about resigned myself to trudging hopeless with yet another storm blowing straight at me! Because I really needed to reach Hochscheid, in the hope it housed s...

Beginning of day five and I'm awake by 5. Had an exceptional night's sleep, except for when I stretched into a full yawn and strained my tendon too much - if that is all it actually is? The pain in all of my arm has localised to a point below the shoulder socket: probably needs an X-ray? Suddenly I'm quite excited by the prospect of following the course of a well researched Roman Road. So few exist above modern roads or are no longer rights of way - as they pass under landowners fields. With a Franziskaner Kreuz around my neck I feel invincible as though it was a amulet with a protective power! Oh, the memories I have of other Camino where I wore it with pride. Although Francis of Assisi became incorporated into the Vatican I don't see that that prevents the simplicity of his original vision, which we very much need in the multiplex layered interleaved world where chaos seems to have us by the proverbials. It's only a wooden semi cross: more like a stylised 'T...

It's telling me to write. Indeed the voice is beckoning me to walk flee disappear. Live rough. Sleep in doorways and beg. Beg food and keep walking. Become homeless. As there is no inevitable end in sight with Leeds City Council and living in hope of a place in the same vicinity as my family what am I hanging on for? Sure I feel utterly meaningless on the eleventh floor, but I do have a roof over my head. Sure I hear the continual traffic noise - bins being emptied at Bagel Nash around five, deliveries being made to the same at another ridiculous hour, sirens from all along the arterial roads (leading up to Chapeltown, Scott Hall, Meanwood) deafening as they flash along Skinner Lane and turn along North Street, but I don't shiver against the lingering cold of a February morning. This is humanities disease: the insane hive. We are forever on our way nowhere to find where we belong. Such speed. Going places at all times. Creating destruction all along the byways and sowing our ...

Tonight I feel truly blessed indeed. Firstly, although I had to wait two hours for Brüder Johannes to return from his excursion with some of the clients, I had time to treat my boots prior to the long day tomorrow. Secondly he was very helpful and provided me with a clean, warm and spacious Brüderapartement - no 16 - where I had a shower (the first comprehensive cleanse since Saturday at Mike and Steffi's in Bad Vilbel. Thirdly he brought me some items for eating tomorrow - namely four eggs ready to boil and a bottle of the German equivalent of Supermalt called Kandi Malz. And, most importantly, he gave me a Franziskaner Kreuz, which I will wear with pride, as well as a blessing for my journey onwards - ulterïa - Gute Weg! So having a small supper, because the Kebap was massive, and having a quiet night in the quiet valley town of Rheinböllen before tomorrow I carry on on the Ansonius Weg towards Trier. If I keep the good vibes going, now I away from Frankfurt, Mainz and Bingen in ...

Yesterday, as I walked and walked and walked, my frustration mounted and was becoming despair as I reached Bingen the long way! Today I'm away from Rüdesheim, the Rhine, Hildegarde Von Bingen and have joined the Römer Straße towards Trier. No more wading through the Rhine by the Alt-Brücke. The means are always possible because I have no control so I must surrender. But what do I need to control? Be rudderless. Trust in The Way to find itself. Walk and be right there. Right here too. Don't allow any threat to breath toxicity where it has no power. Although this problem was inevitable, as I've struggled to just walk without background fears in Germany before, I was gullible enough to expect being this close to the French border they'd be more infrastructure. It's not possible. ... Nearing the end of the huge forest which has been my companion for more than an hour - perhaps two - passing power lines and a large network of turbines prior to following a str...

Two weeks today. I must remember it's only two weeks away. The time between is quite threatening, or is it? This time I want to do the whole distance: I absolutely have to. No thumbing, no buses and no rest days. But it's still only March. So what. Why should that matter? They'll be days of sun and other days. That's the way and I have no control. Where does this fear come from? It's surely a habit only; a regression to yesterday or a voice from the disappeared past?

Following the remains of the Roman wall, with the Rhine hidden to my right, I'm going fly straight as a skillfully thrown javelin towards Bingen today. The Jakobsweg in Mainz is very silly as it appears wriggle without getting free from Mainz for too long! This Jakobus Hessenische is not all that practical! I've decided to head due west, stay high above the Rhine, pass the Gutenberg University and head to Ingelheim am Rhein. ... The sun shining to my left offers me relief from negative mindgames as I stuggle to find another bed for the night! Blossom is spreading either side as I come down the Jakobsweg to the Rhine at Bingen. The Jugendherberge seems to be another expensive option and I wonder if this Pilgerweg really hasn't been backed up with any rational means of not becoming destitute on the Way! Pyramidal piles of stones on the roadside verges does suggest many walk through here, but perhaps it's 99% superannuated octogenarians only? ... Thank you Mark...

Arrived in the Jugendherberge around six, it's at least two kinds kilometres out of the centre back along the Rhine, and paid out from what the Monk gave me in the Karmelitekloster - leaving myself half again for eventualities to when leaving Mainz. At €40 for a room I guess it's not too bad for two people, even if I really feel like I'm back working at YHA Thameside with its layout and over sensitive extractor fans, otherwise for one it's so so expensive: there was again no expression, or sense of compassion, when I tried to get a reduction because I'm on the Jakobsweg. Some music started blaring out somewhere on the corridor (and I think someone was also singing along) around 5:30 and now I'm down in the lobby waiting for anyone to appear and give me coffee, with only another thirty minutes to wait. As a girl goes out for a cigarette and comes back in again I recall last night's dreams, which were both equally intense: the most perculiar was wh...

I cherish everything, being a reflection of the one and this morning really reflects this unity. And the landscape and essence has changed. I'm on the Jakobsweg, Bonifaceweg and Rheingau weinweg! Beautiful sunshine and a subtle shift to spring. Twenty two kilometres prior to noon. That's the thing about setting off with the sunrise ... I've such inspiration. It lags off if I walk after the sun has already risen. Yesterday I was on the go at nine am, but it was a very different day. Other than a stop for breakfast after I'd got to Kriftel I've flown because suddenly the landscape opened up for the first time since Flieden, Schlüchtern and Steinau and the sun is basking in its glory pouring down onto the Rheingau! What wonderful day, including a Croatian Weinstube/Restaurant in Hochheim where I simply had to go to Cevapčići, Ajvar and Rheingau Alt Reben Riesling. It was a long walk to cross the Rhine into Mainz on the Theodore Heuss Brücke, as the skies fi...

Last night was a long, broken night's rest, but I got through it and am getting closer to Mainz, and the Catholic area of Germany, which means finding a place to sleep should become simpler? It's six and someone came into the building a little earlier so it woke me. Sleeping on chairs is no fun especially with a very tender upper arm and right knee, but I managed on and off from 8 until 6 so don't feel totally frazzled. The last dream I had was one in which I was given a choice of returning to my previous body - way of life - or accepting the one I am in. With a lot of pain and trepidation I decided to stick by the new life, regardless of what I'm potentially missing from the old way and who I am offending. The priest, Christian, who brought me here did me a favour really as it looks like leaving "pretty" Höchst by foot would've revealed a huge industrial area which isn't really part of the Camino experience. To the north of Frankfurt are s...

Strange end to the day. After arriving in Höchst I went to the St Justinus kirch just as it was closing and I got a stamp for my Credencial, but when I asked for a place to stay: blank faces and in Germany a blank face doesn't have a nanosecond of emotion. They really didn't care less that I'd just walked 25 kilometres from Mike and Steffi's and came expecting something of someone, in one of the oldest churches on Germany, to care I was on the Pilgerweg and actually help me along! Unreal. The modern world is populated by people who haven't any character and Germany just seems to follow suit! Difficult days ask me difficult questions. Is this because Germany is driven by memories of the past - and I'm British - or because they are rampant capitalists who don't realise what a struggle the Weg/Way/Camino is?

Really I need to start the Jakobsweg again and now, with fresh legs after a hot soak last night, I decided walking from Mike and Steffi's home near Bad Vilbel using the many other "Wegs" radiating across Germany.  I can come to Höchst, connect back up with the route out from Frankfurt towards Trier and hopefully find a place to sleep. Yesterday was a long tiring day, but it was definitely worth not walking the Jakobsweg. With a worsening hangover i reached Frankfurt Süd bahnhof around eight thirty from Gelnhausen. Found an Backer Effeler and ate scrambled eggs while fighting off cold sweats: Apfelwein is lethal. Met the people who organise the pilgerweg for Hessen (as well as elsewhere in Germany) in Niederad, at the Vamonos 2020 Pilgerbörse, and collected a little more information about places to sleep after Bingen and a stamp for my Credential. Feeling much worse around noon I caught the number 12 tram to meet Mike, Werner and the Arabian horse Jenny. On rou...