A rebel without a clue.

So I am starting to suffer with the infection in my right index finger. Most of the day I hadn't paid it much attention, but now, as I have time to reposé,  after a longish day - 27 kilometres - and after a warm soapy shower there is more pain. Tomorrow I probably should go to Urgencies at the Hospital in Chartres and await my turn to get a prescription... The family I am staying with, retirees, have never taken in a pilgrim, but they usually have refugees and asylum seekers for up to a month at a time. Lovely cup of tea and noisette  sablés and I can hear them chopping vegetables. It's been some time - years - since I last got welcomed by a family and I am very grateful. Tomorrow I should walk from here to rejoin the way in Rambouillet to decide what I should do about the infection: there is a hospital in Chartres and perhaps I must go there and have a day off on Saturday? Two nights in Chartres... Or stick to the original plan and see what can be done in Orléans? *** My host...

Getting to sleep is currently a difficulty, but once away ... It's deep and refreshing. Up before the alarm once more. I rarely sleep beyond 6 here. I love dawn so it's ideal. As the weather forecast looks foul for a few days I do wonder about where I am going, and why? In the past I was gravitating towards Catholicism or, even, Christianity. But I just can't get my head around belief, or faith; I am faithful to Lola... In a few more days I will be in Chartres and will consider my next actions: France has presidential elections from the 10th April... ... Waiting for pain  at 6:50am. Sounds indecent at this time of morning. Just a food ration. And I am still waiting... Am I waiting for pain? Lingering in an Abbey expecting excruciating torment. I am tormented by my inability to speak French less like a halfwit, de-dum. My guts are alive this morning, gurgling away, from the cheese and yogurt last night: and the difficult conversation with Evan - who appeared to be accusing m...

Is there a kitchen for me to make a coffee? Awake at 6:15am, breakfast not for another hour. Slept well in very quiet Montmartre. It's was quite a climb to get to the Guesthouse in time for diner, which I missed, but they had saved some food for me... A bowl of soup, a ragot de Bolognese and plenty of bread. Part of me says don't breakfast here as it was only €4, but what is an hour? I always am a little anxious prior to starting these schemes. But only 23kms from Tour Saint Jacques to Vauhallan, a bit further if I walk from Montmartre, which I should as that's the way. It will be a relief to be out of Paris with it's distractions. Luckily I don't care about Moulin Rouge, Louvre etc. This morning I will be putting one foot in front of the other all day long... I will walk, but I will have a proper break around one if I leave here on the dot of 8...thirty. *** A finger infection. Having an allotment brings with it hazards. Humans are frail. It's not pulsating yet...

I've so many aches and pains... Ingrowing toenail and a septic finger. Sore knees and knuckles. And the excruciating pain on the ball of my foot. Ibuprofen at the ready I feel... Antibiotics would be helpful! Getting to 50 and all the shutters are closing on half day... Give me back youth. Or would that help? Being youthful is healthy, but far too manic. I am 50 and I've got an allotment... Have I moved into the 5th age of man after the tumultuous 4th, where I was in a spinning frenzy. Last time I was in Paris, 2016, I didn't care if I lived or died (I was hoping for death to take me). So I was running around looking everywhere for a cheap bed, eventually the Bishop/Priest at Saint Severin allowed me to sleep in the crypt with the homeless. Walked up to the allotment, before heading to Deerstone Ridge for the 7:30am, to see that all the stuff I put in on Sunday are bedded in. The weather has changed: cooler and full covering of dull! So hopefully the potatoes will be fine, ...

Deep fried Korean Street Food... Not a positive experience. An unhealthy option. Much better to make my own food as I know exactly what is in it. That's it - a final weekend. Sunday and Monday - calm before departure. I'll need to get up early on Tuesday to collect a couple of items I have forgotten: waterproof trousers and microtowel. But that's OK. Better to leave before merry legs appears. Yesterday I repotted all 18 of the tomato seedlings into larger containers and, once mum's Airbnb guest has departed, I will bring them back inside and on the window sill in my bedroom. Slept on the floor for a little while, but I just couldn't get comfortable eventually, especially with the Korean Street Food rumbling around my bowels ungraciously, so I slept the remainder of the night on the Sofa, more comfortable but too short. Today I am going to spend most of the day doing stuff related to the allotment. I need to move some stuff up to it - broccoli and peas - I hope someo...

So begins another day. The bath is run. Ready for me to slip in and freshen up after the last few days of sweating and smelling. Lola and I walked to Boston Spa and back, around 11 miles, in glorious sunshine. By the climax she was screaming for a little sustenance so I gave her a little rice, chicken and stock around 1pm prior to her normal feed/dinner time at 3. After that I returned on a quiet X98 to the flat to change and head for a few halves in Leeds. 7 halves between 4 and 8 and one bottle of Kirkstall Dissolution. Read plenty of the Consolations of Philosophy  prior to a Shwarma and then back to place the washed clothing on the rack and bed around 8:15pm. No hangover, but slightly wobbly stomach from spicy meaty. First meat for a few weeks. At lunch mum had left me a Chicken leg to go with the rice so I broke the meat fast yesterday. Glenn is coming at 7:30 to help me move the seedlings back to 42: they're looking very healthy... I just hope that the lift is operating...

Good morning: it's Friday. It's been a busy week, so far, and today, although slightly different, will be too. No Archie to take for a walk(or to take for a sniff/lick) as David, his owner, is back from the meeting he has been at so there are two of them in that busy busy household: I couldn't ever live their kind of chaos. I don't know when they have time to breath? So it's just Lola and I until Tuesday, when I set sail for France, to go and enjoy each other's company. She's been super at adjusting - she's taken her foot off the accelerator while Archie slowly meanders through an hour of sniff, lick and unrinate - how different, considering they are the same age, they are. Luckily they David and Co don't need me at all in the summer - which means I only have Ruby to cater for, as I have already told Dan Jones I can't look after his unruly duo. Tomorrow Glenn is helping me to bring the tomato seedlings back from 69 to 42 to repot and leave for mu...

Trying to slow down my approach to Wetherby, or anything, is difficult: I am always hyper tense. But I've done many things this morning before I bathe, clothe and depart for the 8am X99 to a morning of dogs, an afternoon of cleaning number 42, a late afternoon of dogs and a quiet night at 42; better go turn off the tap? I'd never been one to check the time, at all, but now I tend to plan things around the divisions of the day; a logical step towards sanity? The wash is 15 minutes away from completion and I'd like to be out of the flat around 7:15 prior to the walk down Albion Street to Boar Lane to pick up the bus as it begins its journey north east to Wetherby.

Just after 7am. Spoke to Shiney - Alcohol Counsellor - about being unable to come up with a Goal. What I supposed she meant as a Life Goal - giving meaning to my existence - she actually meant just for the next 2 weeks between sessions. So banal and trivial. I'm not bothered about the small picture I am concerned with the totality: unless i don't have another Existential Crisis. I've told myself that my 50th year will be a year of change or it will be my last. There is nothing beyond the 2nd February 2023 for me if this year is the same, personally, warts and all, than the previous 10 years since I descended into this pitiful state. Isn't it pointless seeing a person who is only concerned for my next two weeks when I am concerned about the next two decades? 

My problems have been solved because I have no problems. A loving father welcomes his wayward son with open arms the moment the son decides to return to him. The Prodigal son... It's early. Too early really to go to catch the X98 at 6:30am? Nah it's fine. The sun has risen so on with the day. Frustratingly I have Archie as  well as Lola this week, until Thursday, as his owners are in the office and can't walk him. Archie has a problem with the base of his spine and I can't let him go gallivanting. Lola doesn't gallivant so that's easy.

No alcohol in my bloodstream. I had the insect itch last night - which might've been a consequence of working in mud most of the day... A quick flannel wash sent me to sleep surrounded by the pulsating of the heating, always on to keep mother warm next to the radiator, and the voices, music and general electrical energy pouring out of her TV screen from dawn until late. The end of my life will not be so final... Donc translates into 'so' from the French, an 'um' word, one which is like a pause, ('actually' being a current expression said too often). The German language has one would which is said pointlessly too, but I forgot it currently - it's just on the tip of my tongue (anyway)!

Good morning pigeons and rats who abound below my very feet, eleven storeys up and as I go to collect my way to Wetherby. What was meant to be an 8am bus journey is a 7am on instead. Slept well, washed waterproof in Nikwax technical wash along with the two Finisterre bamboo base layers. Reset for another 3 nights in Wetherby. Just Wednesday at my mum's and then two more at Ruby's dog sitting. Back to Leeds on Saturday afternoon. Watered the tomatoes and turned on the Full Spectrum LED from 5 am for 4 hours. The seedlings which are showing look OK? I will need to give them more compost on Saturday I am certain? Had just two Rauchbier yesterday early evening and a portion of chips with curry sauce. Now on the X99 with Pain aux raisin  and hot chocolate from Pret . I am an hour early.

A night occupied by memories of another Chemin Saint Jacques, from Dieppe to Châtellerault via Rouen, Évreux, Dreux, Chartres, Tours and Châteaudun in early March 2014... There is just one town where I slept in a damp bed in a house where it was very cold which I can't place in my head and a misty morning leaving Évreux, but the rest of the time it was fine walking weather. People were very helpful - I stayed in plenty of homes and a couple of monasteries and at least two hotels: Vendóme I arrived so late as I'd walked around 10 kilometres in the wrong direction westerly, towards Le Mans, when I should have been going south west ... The shadow I saw pointing east if I hadn't seen that I'd have had no chance! As it was I walked from a diner on the main road towards a "train station" where I was desperate not to miss the bus from it. I was so late arriving I had to check into a hotel... 

Friday morning. Up at 5am. No hangover. Just 4 beers. All around 4% Abv. Fine morning, except for the lice like people around the train station tainting the beautiful dawn with their low level needs. Some quite drunk man couldn't get it that I was not cold wearing shorts. This reminded me of walking through a town near Albacete in the same shorts in close to zero and a local asking me if I was British and Muy frío was his statement into the morning. Back to Wetherby on the X99 @ 7am. I was hoping to be 'late' this morning, but I am 'early' once more. The bus is fairly busy. Less so than the X98 at 7:30am and I wasn't keen to wait until the 8am bus.

Friday was a good day. Even with the ale in the afternoon, in Harrogate, and later on at the Brewery with Jason and Nick. Lola is asleep by my side now, having eaten her breakfast and been outside for her morning toilet. It's another blue sky day. A fine one. I am dropping Lola off at Emma's before I go to the allotment for a while. On Sunday I am thinking of walking back to Leeds via Meanwood Valley, through Harewood and Eccup. As today will be a steady one - no alcohol at all - this is a good idea. Yesterday, when walking Lola into Harrogate, my left foot was playing up again - very painful. Are my shoes too tight? Is there an issue with the insoles in the Altbergs? I've a fresh pair for France. I've not really worn the Scarpa pair more than a couple of times since purchasing them as replacements for the Altbergs. Last time in France I fell with the Altbergs on so am not wearing them where there may be risks... ... The same question - what is my Goal in li...

Another day dawns - the 18,306 day, according to Google, since I popped out of mother's womb; silent and watchful. Of course she said I was very quiet (perhaps it's my fundamental aspect), but this could be her memory playing tricks? Inside I am constantly screaming! I seem silent and observant, but in my mind there is a hot debate continuing. The meaninglessness of all passing thoughts, ephemeral and vanishing, pointlessly cluttering the, mainly, water filled mind. Yesterday I collected Finley from Crossley Street School and took him to BAE, with Lola, for one of their Hot Chocolate drinks and then I took them to The Mews, where I had a half a Porter and he had a half of some lemonade - Lola had several biscuits and sat staring at Ian and Andy as they devoured Mini-Cheddars™. Then I brought him back for a dinner of chips, fish fingers and peas, where he asked at the end of his meal if he could be excused...

Yesterday I was suffering from nervous exhaustion - I cracked my left foot on the same table leg three times and stumbled, almost falling, through an hour and a half of walking Lola over to the East of Wetherby - beyond the A1(M) up Carr Lane and Sandbeck Lane - my feet went everywhere but where I would've liked them to go. Eventually, at 6pm, I retired to upstairs to read a few more harrowing chapters of Alone in Berlin  and turned off the light at 7. Unlike the previous night my sleep was only broken once, but when I finally awoke at 5am I didn't struggle but came downstairs to make a brew. A Budgeting Loan I applied for (£133.53) is in my account this morning so I've sent some to my mum and the remainder to the credit cards I owe. I am trying to be at zero again by the 28th March - prior to flying to Paris and a long walk away from Lola, mother, allotment, Wetherby, Leeds and War! So now I have £348 owing to the DWP which will come off my ESA until June/July - when I wil...

On the X98 at 7:50, passing Bank Top in Bardsey, on the way to the flat. Lola has Phil to walk her this morning as I've got the council over doing a couple of jobs at the flat: fixing the rusty and leaking soil pipe on the toilet and having a water sprinkler system installed. Had a quick once over in the greenhouse and I've definitely killed 5 tomato seedlings... Such as shame: they were looking so happy too. There was a frost last night, but the spinach I transferred to pots and terracotta piping seemed to survive. I sprinkled a little slug/snail pellets to give them a start. It's still too cold on an evening for potatoes? Are earlies more resistant to frost? I am definitely going to risk it over the weekend. I am wondering if I can transfer the tomato seedlings at the flat back to Wetherby after the work has been done this morning? They would do better at my mum's? It's been ages since I caught the peak time X98. It's busier than at any time I've known dur...

How healthy is my heart? After another mammoth day with all things green in the greenhouse and at the allotment, except for a minor poisoning of 5 seedling tomatoes by the addition of manure - only a handful but it must be very toxic as all five have died and it's such a good job I only did it to those five and not the numerous I stepped up into larger pot ... Getting rid of the ones which didn't take. Lola got around 2 hours and a bit of loving this afternoon until I went to do the grass and other jobs in mum's garden - where I noticed the murder. It's brown bin day on Wednesday. Andy's back from Fuerteventura and was at the allotment this morning He took away some of the roots I've/we've dug up since the autumn to start putting in his brown bin - thanks Andy!  And I put another set of onions into the plot as well as liberally sprinkling with Bonemeal - strawberries like it... Nearly at the point were the early potatoes will go into the ground, but, as it l...

So much thinking and thoughts are both empty and ephemeral but they occupy, pointlessly, my sleepless mind. They seem filled with matter but really there is no substance in them. Thinking in that time between sleep and the struggle to return to sleep, before I gave up around 5 and came downstairs to a pot of coffee and a podcast before 6am. Dawn is coming in the east. The birds are singing and it's all good. It's simple. My thoughts are complicated, layered, interlocking and insane. But they do nothing. Over thinking is a real disease. But there is no point crying over split milk. It's gone. It's evaporated in a cloud of memory. For a moment I thought I hadn't fed Ruby when we returned from just one more beer, but I had because her dinner from Thursday is missing in the fridge - it had some fishes in it and they are not on her shelf in the Utility Room fridge ... The guilt I felt reflecting opening the bottle of Bordeaux I saw laid down alongside the many other wine...

Prayer is a means of speaking to oneself in a very direct and, perhaps, meaningful way. The individual isn't speaking to God, actually, but to something deep within which is god. When I am contemplating am I speaking to god? Or am I speaking to the elephant in the room? That's the thing. There are two aspects to my being, and I've understood this for very long, but I am still one. Duality is an internal reality. One voice is speaking to one aspect of me: appealing for witness. Focusing my thoughts on "god" or "ego" is the choice? But how do I know which voice I am speaking to? Is it in the overall feeling this gives me? One of tranquility or one of anxiety? Just one pint yesterday: the music on in the Mews is dire and people comparing Putin to Hitler are just idiots who should be shot, or told they're completely wrong to drawn that comparison - there is no comparison in the systematic extermination of the other with the imperialism of Putin.

Well I did it. Day One, again. Sobriety. This morning the sun is shining and there is a widespread frost: so good for garlic budding... Day two. Mother still in chains at the Duchy Hospital. Lola had her breakfast, did a hasty toilet and then went back under the covers in mum's room. We kept each other warm throughout the night. Two bodies are much better at the conservation of energy. Makes me wonder: like binary star system. From next-door comes the voice of Adrian. It's 7:10am and it's time for my breakfast

Until I awoke this morning the universe didn't exist. Until I saw the crows wheeling above the distant sycamore and beech they didn't exist. Until the sound of the motorcycle was heard it didn't exist. All night a low level humming came into my awareness, and I am not talking of tinnitus, but what is it behind the double glazing? That humming was much more placeable as the perpetual background sound, which assaults constantly all hope of peace, the A1(M) as it pours forth. There are probably areas of Wetherby, say for instance down by Sicklinghall Road, where the sound has refracted and never reaches - as it sits on the west side of Spofforth Hill? Mother is back. She's back in her lair. The last three days of silence with Lola, the allotment and 42 Braine Road have reduced to a zero. There is no present moment which is all encompassing: within the moment, the riddle, there may be something profoundly still and infinite but I think it is beyond a mere animal, humanity, ...

My soul is dying. The moment I had when I felt I was understanding something real is vanishing and I don't know how to stop it popping off. Yesterday went wrong, again, what should've been a wonderful day of oneness with Lola - 100% - was ensnared by the rottenness at my core. And I am utterly sick of myself. There was some nice moments, true, but I went down that bad path once more. Now I am quite concerned that I'll never really be free of debt because I am a weak man. Full of flaws. The money I needn't have spent on beer. I have a roof, food, bed, allotment and Lola that's surely more than enough? Sitting down to another 2 cups of coffee on another Sunday, full of regrets. Pissed off with what people did, how they reacted to my ways and the feeling I really wasn't wanted in the brewery or in Wetherby. Let's start again. It's Sunday and I've everything I could ever need laid on my knee, under the covers, on the sofa so nice and toasty. It's too...

So far so busy. It's 17:30 and I don't believe I've stopped since I left mum's, with Lola, at 9am. But now I've got to go back to mum's and make the camp bed up: I decided going to Leeds was a push too much as I would've been incapable of anything in the morning; and a few tomato seedlings... Won't dry out in a day? They're Mexican after all. And I am watching, haphazardly, the Sky News feed. It is the last place I would turn for news: we're in Europe but The Ukraine is a million miles away socially and culturally. They keep showing 'tank' rolling by: it's very simple, and if they can film destruction from a drone all they show is destruction. *** Almost feel into the ditch of drunkenness, but ate a hearty dinner - Morrisons' Chicken Madras, rice, onion bharge, naan - and watched the end of one episode and most of another episode of Around the World in 80 Days. Mother wanted a take out, but they only take cash at the Chinese she s...

It's the beginning of Lent. 2nd March 2022. A month of my 50th year has vanished and all the good intentions of January have evaporated during that alternating February. Back on the 1st January I promised that this year would be different or it would be my last. Some things in Ukraine might make this my last for other - out of my control - reasons, but directly I am responsible for one individual who can change to be a better individual? The lady I see about my alcohol issues says I don't actually have a problem with the bottle, but that I have no 'Goal' in my life. She sees I have certain commitments - mother, Lola and the allotment, as well as the to-ing and fro-ing on either the X99 or X98 between Wetherby and Leeds, but that except for those 'must do' occupations I have no guiding light or compass to navigate by. She's correct. Never have I really had any substantial aim to my existence. Even when meditating, walking or becoming 'spiritual' there...