A rebel without a clue.

Is it really that hard to see that the problem in The Ukraine has been caused, in some degree, by Western attitudes to Russia for centuries? I am guessing it springs out of cultural, social and religious opposition which has always seen the Orient, the Russ, Orthodox, The Tatars, etc, as not as morally 'good', or righteous, as the West, with it's Papal, Romance/Anglo-Saxon, Protestant/Catholic dichotomy sees itself. Why is it impossible for humanity to see that we're not all the same and we can be different? Russia's history of itself is no different from England's history of itself: they are both incorrect. Seeing yourself as others see you is a very difficult skill. Perhaps no human can directly see his or her faults all that well? *** I slept badly. The floor is not my friend! And the sofa downstairs is simply too short for me. I have to lay somewhat fetal on the settee which I find very uncomfortable and there is no give on the floor so my bones feel ill pos...

The birds in the world frame the way, but grey clouds sit heavy below the sky. The stillness is broken by the drone of traffic along Spofforth Hill reminding me that what I see outside the patio door isn't reality. It's a human construct on every level. The dog by my side, and she decided to be by my side all night in bed (can such a small thing hog so much space)? She sees a pigeon alight on a distant chair. As she goes closer it has already gone to other bounty. The clouds hold the promise of much needed rain. It's been dry since I left France to return to the UK. What change is around the corner? The one which devastates with a monsoon like deluge. I remember last April being one of sunshine and heavy showers; almost regular as my morning bowel movements! Soon it will be time to collect Lola to take her and Ruby for another adventure. Ruby ate a fraction of her breakfast and will come back to the majority a little later. I intend to walk to Thorp Arch Trading Estate and ...

After a frenzy of activities I am sat on the sofa in the lounge. The clocks tick and Ruby breaths deeply on the edge of my awareness. Suddenly she decides to sort her bed out and pulls the throw around her. It's her way of getting comfortable: she circles into a nest and gathers the bedding around her. Maureen and Tony left me a huge portion of Moroccan Lamb Pie (a Börek I think) which fit so perfectly with the butter beans and tomatoes, I'd baked a couple of days ago, that I could burst: this morning I weighed in at 12st but it'll be a lot grosser by Thursday teatime. The French dry white wine has washed all its goodness into me and I feel I am drifting towards an early slumber. Lola is at my sister's tonight which is a relief as I'm pretty exhausted from all the doggy activities, plus doing several things for my mother this morning. Last year's Travellers have returned to the Wetherby Ings and I ponder if they ever would if it was still the mosquito marsh it o...

She's such a good girl! Our Lola laid by my side, in the strange house, all night. Ruby likes to sleep on mummy's bed so no problem with them both wanting to be with me. We got up at 5:30 and I'm waiting for Lola to begin buzzing for her food shortly. She's getting closer to 7 with me. Giving too much attention to Ruby first thing does make her a little unhappy and she clearly got between me and her just now to tell me she is the most important dog in my life. *** How to live the good life? Do I live an authentic existence doing what makes me feel whole? Or is there a hole there waiting to be filled by a truer existence than I have in Wetherby? The journey which Michael and I will undertake, the first I've ever had to step back from, and not alone to dominate, will be a possible way into authenticity? It's important to shine through this opportunity of sharing The Way - Pilgrimage. I've heard some positive news from Dulwich Parish as there will hopefully be ...

Lucozade and grapes is what we gave the infirm... To see a grey horse fall on a racecourse and to be trampled underfoot... These two are wonderful. This morning we were together all the way. Lola has taken Ruby's space and Ruby is wrapped in Lola's throw. I've come upstairs and neither can be bothered to move from their particular righteous spots, apart from one another: there is a small chance they could cuddle up to each other and sleep not so solitary! Another couple of chapters and I am done. They're still downstairs, apart and serene, soon they will both bother me to belong alongside once more?

First morning of three with Ruby and Lola. I was going to collect Ruby and bring her back here, but that would be stupid with my poor left foot. A combination of things mean I was walking barefoot in the park yesterday. So once Lola arrives we'll go up to Chestnut Avenue. The allotment will need to go to the back of the queue for the remainder of the week, until at least Friday, but I did quite a lot yesterday. Yesterday afternoon I found myself skipping through The Moon and Six Pence , which is a delightful novel, but I thought it was a story based on Paul Cezanne which is not the case. It's a narrative based on the life of Paul Gauguin... Both important Postimpressionist artists. It doesn't matter which of these two giants of the painting landscape it is a tale told about as it's nothing other than a novel by Somerset Maugham... Mother is suffering from old age: is this what happens to us all? In the end we dissolve back into the dust we came? Obviously it is! Mike su...

Another way is opening up before me: I can see it and must grasp it. The world is such a large place and I've simply got to be in it once more. Disassociation. I've not felt I am looking out of another person's eyes in a long time... and I don't think it's a bad feeling! This Leeds, this Pret , this seven to eight rush hour. This Monday of brief glances from those who have been hemmed into public transport for half an hour, an hour or several. Another working week yearning for the Carrot of Freedom. I have touched freedom and it usually sits on my shoulders, in the form of a rucksack, and distorting my tendons and bones and reminding me I am not a body! At eight I'm heading to Wetherby for four nights to dog sit for Mo and Tony - Ruby. However mum's hip is playing up now - a consequence of the new knee - so I also have Lola along for the week. Fifteen minutes to watch these comings and goings and 'people watch', a Bircher yogurt with seeds and a rasp...

Just going on seven and Lola is happily positioned between my legs. She stayed in her own bed until 6 and she's just had breakfast. Another day crisp and blue, but no rain again. A very dry month so far. My water butt is dry as a bone, luckily there is the one next to Janet and Leslie which is full to overflowing. I am going to walk up there with Lola around 8 and then head back to Leeds for this afternoon and evening. Got Ruby from early on Tuesday until Thursday so I will have two clever girls out with me twice a day for those three days. Yesterday I spent 3 hours on the allotment weeding and banking up the potatoes which are showing because it's going to get cool midweek. Went to the Brewery yesterday and ummed and arred about getting a burger. Mum had baked a chicken so I made a chicken sandwich instead as I'd already spent quite enough on beer. The final few days of April and I'm seriously short on funds until May... I do spend too much on beer. It's too expens...

Teaching Lola a new trick: waiting until seven for breakfast, regardless of how hungry she may be? She's pestered me, but now is curled up in her seat. She pawed me and crawled over me: insinuated herself quite obviously. Then she sits upright and thoughtful for a moment... As though she's learning something. She seems to be quizzical at this moment. It's an expression I like in her. Time must be very different for her to me. She's quite vocal when she wants something: whether to go outside for toilet, wants a rub, cuddle or another closeness, and when she's 'starving' she's yawny and stares directly at me. But I think I've conquered her expectation? Same too in bed. She joins me for a bit then I tell her firmly to go back to her space when we're having a 'sleep over' - there was a time when we shared a double bed, but now I put her large double duvet and smaller matress next to the single one in my old room (having removed the base of th...

A slow down Friday. Mostly I was yawning yesterday, after leaving Lola and mother. The past two days I'd done a lot of digging and, surprisingly, my hands are not so painful as they have been, but I've started to take vitamin D again, after a little gap while I was walking in France (and feeling that there must be enough sunlight pouring forth now we've passed equinox)? Yesterday my left foot was terribly painful and I read that the problem may be Metatarsalgia which if causing the issue, but what can I do except rest the foot. I am currently waiting for some physiotherapy on my right knee so perhaps I can also discuss the tenderness then? Walking is the thing which keeps me together and without it I struggle to comprehend life. The limitation of my being would definitely return me to the depressed state I was in previously - when I could see no means of leaving my unhappy existence other than by a noose. Age related injuries, walking through Köln in 2013 carrying too much ...

This morning I didn't write much before mother, and her crippled body, descended the stairway and put a stop to the journal I keep. On the X99, which is running a little late, we are passing The Windmill pub on a glorious Thursday afternoon. It might be filled to the rafters with school kids upstairs, but that is OK as downstairs is fairly civilised and quiet (except for the Kurdish (???) lady who sells the Big Issue in the Market Place in Wetherby and a couple of octogenarians - with masks still in place - who whitter constantly). We're heading up Langwith Hill, Collingham, where I once delivered mail and once asked, in utter desperation, to go for a poo-poo in a residence I delivered to off Hillcrest. That was such a long time ago: during Foot and Mouth. The Rapeseed in the field by the turning onto Crabtree Lane is the brightest yellow. It's a wonderful day. This morning was still too cold for tomatoes, and there was a slight frost in Yorkshire... I hope it wasn't on...

Crawling into bed at 18:20 because there is nothing else I feel like doing in the flat, after I ate dinner, put my dry clothes and drying rack away, washed and dried the pots, utensils and cutlery. Picked up two bags of Main Crop potatoes to get into the ground shortly - Desirée and Maris Pipers - from Wilko's around four and negotiated the meaninglessness on the streets between Albion Street and Lovell Park. Sirens outside the flat, tailbacks along Lincoln Green Road, etc, a sullen grey sky and noise from the inhabitants around me and from the dicky lift. It's possible to get used to anything? At 18:30 I am going to meditate... ... I don't feel lonely lied on my own listening to the noises around the flat, and I never feel alone when I am walking in the countryside. Yesterday the singing of birds (and now they start to permeate and interject with the motor vehicle drone) and the bright roadside blooms made me joyous. *** To live too long makes us forget the mea...

Self control. Positive freedom. So often am I out of control of what is best for me, but, as if looking through a fog, I see it not. Something inside takes control of my best self-interest and de-rails it. Some days I clearly see that I have lost control and start again from a zero point: a line in the sand. Then I step forward again trying to resist the pitfalls I put on the road I am on. Just over one week ago I returned from Limoges and the brilliant self-control required to walk and walk and walk, regardless of my wishes just to sit and give up, crying 'am I mad?' But then I return and, as though I have earned a little self destruction, fall into a banal meaningless cycle of badness. The part of my brain which I have released from the badness sees it's opportunity to become wreckless. Since that Sunday I have returned to wrecklessness, and I just can't live a life this way! It effects all my relationships, poisoning them at the root and the leaf. Yesterday I walked ...

To be sat surrounded by people who are not like you: people who seem so badly composed, where their atoms seem misplaced in a meaningless repetition: this was Easter Sunday. After a couple of draining hours up on the allotment I returned to 42 to rest and then joined Jason, Dan and Westy (people from the distant past who I still briefly interact with) for a couple of hours. Then I returned to eat and sleep until I go walkabout this morning. Something woke me around 1:30, as usual, but it can't have been cheese in the pasta meal I had for supper? Perhaps the small amount in the pesto and the few gratings I put in the dish are enough to stop my slumber. But the last voice in my head, after I'd finally found the longed for Lalaland, said don't forget Pastoral centres for accommodation on the Pilgrims Way. There are ways of being in the spirit of the Camino in the UK if only I remember the things I've learnt down the years? In Southwark there is a small Poor Clare's hou...

Back in the disappointing town. Shuttlecocking between a dirty metropolis and crisp mediocrity. It's four in the afternoon and I'm not for it! Resurrection to the same existence is pithy and false: the very first lie is the return. His death meant nothing: no death does; none would return, even if the entire cosmology changed it's structure of unchanging laws for one man, as there is no death because there is no universe; being but dream, a mental distortion, a misperception. Smoke and mirrors. Wetherby Velo cutting up the ride into a tripe filling and I hate the way some people dissect what they do. They speak as though they physically see the ride they have been on or are going on. On my wandering I never wonder what is ahead, or behind, all I want is now. The present. The fine line between something, anything and nothing: infinity. Holy Saturday passed too near to another alcohol binge as I caught up with Nick, and Co., at Wetherby Brew Co - it was always going to happen...

It's Saturday, but feels a bit like a Sunday - quite quiet on the roads around 7. For me it's probably a Monday as I am back to dog, garden and allotment duties. Back to normal. Last week doesn't count as I had the additional responsibilities of Finley after his day with Leeds Rhinos at WHS. Yesterday was definitely a Saturday judging by the numbers of idiots in fancy dress and being wankers walking down Otley Road as I headed in the opposite direction. I had too much to drink on Thursday (Friday) spent Good Friday (Saturday) recovering. It really was the first such day for quite some time. The ten miles I covered up through Woodhouse, Hyde Park, Headingley and Weetwood were never easy, but I returned back to the flat, through Meanwood, Buslingthorpe and Little London, with Mutti Pulpa and a lemon to put my body back together again. Meditating, reading and listening to the goings on around the Grange. Around 6 it felt a little chilly so I closed the window. Later on some dr...

Trying to get Lola to wait an extra hour, after we came downstairs at 6, for breakfast... She's crawling the walls and me. Now at 06:55 she's just licked her bowl clean! I am getting her nearer to 7. She can tell you exactly when she is to be fed: she's showing some unusual body language: sitting up and almost pondering my change of behaviour. Now she's back by my side on the sofa, after I'd listened to the In Our Time podcast - which I feel has just gone a little stale, or scraping the bottom of a barrel for subject matter - with still a quizzical expression on her face: such a beautiful face. It's kind of triangular and very symmetrical. It's one which has become fixed in my mind in a manner akin to mother and child (but I don't know who is the child between us). She's just sighed, as the food hits her empty belly, and returned to Snoozeland for an hour until we go on another traipse.  This weekend is meant to be a heatwave - 22°C - so I am going t...

A day of tired exercise. I walked down to the Armouries, and Leeds Dock, before I was advised to leave Leeds city centre as masses were degorged upon Boar Lane, from the Railway Station, in pulses and cycles as various engines came alongside the platforms. A often broken 4 hours up to the Hollies and Meanwood Park before following the Beck back towards town. Ten miles. Yesterday was a blow out. First one in a while. Tonight I am calming the bodily formations. Read up to chapter 18 of Dandelion Days  as Leeds disturbs me with its automobile noise and the gentle song of a blackbird closer to, and more vivid, than the barren drone of the arterial roads connecting nothing with nothing. A good night's sleep and early to Wetherby for Merry Legs, allotment, lawn mowing and other green fingered passions...

It's been a bit chaotic since I arrived back in Wetherby late on Sunday afternoon. Last night was the first when I literally stopped at all and attempted to calm the bodily formations: meditation. As soon as mother switched on the TV, and the BBC news began banging on about the Ukraine, I retreated and was on the bed calming down my inner formations - deep intentional breathing. Not once, since I left for France, had I had a midday siesta. Often I looked at the side of the path a thought it's too cold and damp to stop for a moment. Rarely did I hang around in any space and drove myself on towards the end goal. Meditation has become a more sparodic practice this year. Like ACIM, I am trying to have a little time away from what had become almost all encompassing. 

Just over two hours walk the rural way to the airport, apart from the last house on the right, who wouldn't open a gate for me - le Grande Bois (I gave him a raspberry, turned back and walked through his paddock) - it was a healthy option. Still no public transport. Just the Flyer at Leeds Bradford Airport, and sullen faced folks in the queue to check in baggage. The long yawn back to Blighty begins. Time to arrange my backpack and hand luggage and then eat a breakfast a leak quiche and Belchard apple: Charentes - purchased at Les Halles. As departures gets busy I sit on the floor: no way to socially distance... It's a tiny airport. The dreadful monologue of the Geordie couple behind me... They say nothing, but could take forever. Waiting. I hate flying. It's so meaningless.

I've realized I am a lucky man. Serendipity is the means by which life unfolds. To be true take the suggestions presented. I tried very hard to find a place to stay for under €40 in Limoges, but there is some event on here until Sunday: so the place is complet  and I was wondering if I could sleep at the airport this evening? I've done it before: but I slept on the floor better then... now I hardly sleep without some cushioning. Having left the Tourisme with no where: no place for pilgrim or place for tourist, I was stranded in Limoges. Second bite of the city since 2018 and it was playing against me again. Last time the Sœurs Franciscan was full and this time closed because they have no electricity: that's mendicant pour vous! Up to Les Halles, just as it was closing at 3pm, and I saw Greenville...  and the rest would appear to be history. I've got to walk to Rue de Strasbourg, 39, and the proprietor (Richard/Ricard) of Greenville is willing, even with his GF arriving ...

Rarely have I been so exhausted from anything. Yesterday, and the previous 9 days, walking like a fool, 30 kilometres a day, I couldn't keep from yawning. After I had had some food: a savoury humus tartine with roasted veg, etc., and a Petrus Red, my legs carried me through the Basilique, into the guesthouse and back up the 3 floors. Where I washed some smalls, and crawled into bed. Woken by several voices in the night, people leaving their various occasions, I rolled over and woke with a start at 6:30... ... Such a relief to be knowing I did what I did regardless without much more than a finger infection; which appears to have vanished - abracadabra. Penicillin and healthy being? My mind isn't so tangled today as it might've been. Oh but I lost a book - I left it as I paid for the meal... Cakes and Ale, Penguin Orange, 1950, Somerset Maugham. Blue sky this morning. Yup. It's over and the weather changed!!! If I had zero responsibilities in Yorkshire, and a limitless am...

As I walk along La Loire for the final few kilometres it seems the weather is changing: it's still raining, and windy, but the sun is putting in an appearance between clouds. Just as I reach the end of this 'pilgrimage': a pause for another time as tomorrow I am hopping into another BlaBla car to Limoges, then au revoir France and hello Yorkshire (with all its personal hazards). Ten days in some pretty awful weather, and carrying too much stuff, but I must've covered around 300 kilometres between Paris and Tours? Today is another 30 clicks day. At noon I had an Artisanale hamburger in Montlouis-sur-Loire which was enough and got me out of the torrential downpour I had had since 8 leaving Amboise... On my right a mini golf course, after coming down from the top of the escapement where Vouvray AOC grows, it's another couple of bridges before Pont Wilson: which I crossed before on foot - although I am not sure I walked the section I am on in 2014? Last time...

This morning I have to build up to the good stuff again. After too many beers yesterday afternoon I didn't sleep so well: it's the first time since I left the UK I've turned to alcohol...  Perhaps it was always going to happen on a day like yesterday, and with a goal: Tours, very near and the clouds above pounding on my sorry head? This morning is forecast rain once more and I'd seen that yesterday too so was wondering about what I'd do Friday, after arriving drenched, in Amboise? But the wind seems to have abaited and I can hear the pleasant song of the morning chorus... Just one more day on the road. The goal is before me, but first sort out what I am wearing and perhaps leave a little later this morning? I didn't really look around Amboise as I was just staring into an emptying glass most of the time? Stepping out at 7:30 and heading for petit déjeuner on the corner after the Tour l' Horloge, the rain isn't as bewildering as it was yesterday...it'...

Today was so challenging. If this Chemin hasn't already tipped me beyond rescue today surely has? From 7:30am it was rain, heavy or persistent, you take your measure? This morning I left the farm house, a 15th century Grange or Manor which was, apparently, dedicated to Saint Tobias? However I might be completely wrong about the name of the saint - at that point I lost the host... it was very ancient, the wooden interior spoke centuries.  Turned left, after the out buildings, and through an ancient forest - where I heard a barking in the near distance, but it wasn't a wolf, a fox or a dog: stood opposing me was a huge stag. As I stood and faced, he faced and stood then, as I moved, he barked and a whole troop fled away from the cleft between us. At an acute angle, before the deluge, I was turned by the GR/Chemin Saint Jacques back on myself. For a little while I considered its 'touristic' twists and turns, but then decided it was impossible and followed the velo route in...

Tomme des Pyréneés and biére artisanale The Castle Grocery Store, cuvèe renaissance walking into the end of another long etape, Chaumont-sur-Loire on the southern shore of La Loire once more: again the northern shore was pretty tedious. Heading towards Rilly-sur-Loire for one night on a farm? *** And here I am. Sat by myself outside a gypsy caravan. It's a campsite as well as a sheep farm. But I think the farmer is away looking after his flock? There is no one about, no cars, vehicles, except some sheep and their lambs in a 'stable-block'. They're pretty relaxed. They looked at me a couple of times and then returned to whatever it is sheep do when they are not eating... The sun is trying to break through this second day of cloud cover...and up the path comes the farmer, just before 5, to feed the baa-baas - lambing season with 150 mutton to provide for, in addition to their progeny. I'm so remote. This might've been the sanctuary I sought when I left the UK? 7 d...

Yes, I will depart at 7:30, regardless of whether the host (23 Rue des Trois Marchands, donativo) is here to say goodbye. They were a little surprised I would be gone prior to 9. But I prefer the dawn for walking; Michel would like to get a mugshot of me with my rucksack. Thoroughly packed. Had a long refreshing shower last evening: first since Chartres... Everyday isn't necessary really, but I know some folks can't do without it? Primarily I would like to look around Blois a little this morning before to my route takes me west. And the host Michel has arranged for me to sleep in a farm surrounded by sheep - Amma ferme du Plessis. He says stick to the south way. Perhaps that's what he was saying? But I don't know as after he began speaking a little English he then dropped into rapid French where I understand half the content and had no words but comprendre  or je ne comprends pas to reply. *** The news! It's obsessed with just one thing! Well, currently...

At the end of a massive, continental, Camino day. It was so tough, but I got to the end in almost one piece. With, finally, two bits of reading material - only needed Cakes and Ale , by W. Somerset Maugham, but returned from the excellent bookshop with two Penguin Orange Backs: the second being Dandelion Days  by Henry Williamson - 1/6d each(€2) and both published in 1950(not first editions sadly). At the end of a frantic walk I do like to unwind into a novel or something uncorrupted by the media mafia conceits of current times: who talk nonsense to get people to chose sides as I walk down the narrow edge between them. Michel & Danielle, my hosts, have a wonderful 'studio' for pèlerin. I've finally got to 'caminoland' with today's very good repase  and this evening's reposé.  I am a lucky man, but perhaps after 35 Kms I earned it.

Extremely bug-ger-ed(tired beyond the word tired). Had to hitch after the last stretch along the Loire between Muides-sur-Loire and Saint Dyé-sur-Loire. Much better visually on the left bank: the right bank was long and straight along the top of the levee. The left bank had those last two leafy tumbling pathways. Unrinating on this side was much better! I wasn't staring at a nuclear power plant while irradiating out the copious water I'd drunk during repase.  Thirty five kilometres this day. Never with a spring in my step. Unlike from Orléans: La Ruche was just too remote. But I didn't catch a bus or train and the second car to pass me by stopped: a small Renault, with a guy off to play football after work: good man, auto-stop. No English spoken so we used Google Translate like a Babbelfish... Perhaps something like a universal translator is around the corner? Before I present myself for this evening with the family hosts I have come for an earned Petrus Red: th...

Fifteen minutes before noon and I couldn't walk another inch! But then I just found a formule du midi - repase - €13.80 for entrée, plat and dessert, vin and café inclusif! B'art Gourmet, Avaray! Phew - four and a half hours 22 kilometres! I am ionising opposite the reactors! And it's not mentioned in the Miam Miam Dodo...why am I carrying it? Toilet paper...

Tuesday is all about walking? My previous suggestion that I may catch the bus to Beaugency didn't amount to anything. A brief coffee and croissant at the boulangerie opposite La Ruche then another Longé at the Bar Tabac on the crossroads in Meung sur-Loire then I continued alongside the La Mauve de Saint Ay until I reached back on the Loire, mistaking it for a lake! Arriving a bit weary in Beaugency ready to stop, but as the breakfast options were none, I bought two apples(canada variety) and two large quiche aux legumes in the centre, before heading for another coffee and water to wash down penicillin. Setting off again around 9:30 it seems I am passing a Nuclear power station, on the left bank, before I too cross over to that side. Eaten the rations and hope they keep me moving two more hours? I would like to rest properly before I attempt Blois on these feet!

Monday's can seem a bit like non-days in France, when everything is closed: patisserie, boulangrie, restaurant, etc, so I decided I won't bother tonight with anymore food. The repase at 3 was adequate for this day, on top of the large brunch  in Saint Ay. In the morning I must decide whether to catch the bus forward a little, so I could possibly reach Blois, and stay at the Auberge du Jeunesse, in two days. Perhaps reaching Tour by Wednesday is a little far fetched? Unless I walk, then catch a bus forward, but tomorrow, having just walked up to the Bridge in Meung sur- Loire, I don't really want to walk 2.8kms before actually another 6 to reach where I probably should've been today?  Beaugency would be the ideal start tomorrow. The lady at the Halte Jacquaire was helpful finding me this place, but it is just slightly too prior the ideal location for Tuesday. Why am I rushing to get to Tour? I've already been there in 2014. Perhaps I reach Amboise then skip from it t...

Word for the day: one of my favourite... a misapplied or inappropriate name or designation. L'Agylien scrambled eggs(Bain Marie) potatoes and salad were fit for a king(€7 Prix pour Pèlerin)!.After 3 hours I wanted to stopped for a little time in Saint Ay, as my left foot is a little tender this morning... Walking in Orléans didn't help and 15 kilometres in 3 hours is a killer. Following the right bank of La Loire. It's all good! But maybe I do stop early today as I've a place 5kms up the road La Ruche - €15. The humming of insects... It's something quite surreal. I had a similar experience walking from Geneva. The sound, collectively, added together can be quite overwhelming. France equals fecundity. Luckily I ate well this morning as Meung sur la Loire is closed to me except more awful 7jours pizza. So I'm heading back to La Ruche and a quick look into the Portuguese establishment. Quick beer in the Presse, Bar, Tabac, PMU. The first in these places where all y...

Up before the other two pilgrims, but thanks to the older man's alarm which went off early... Which is good. Sat down to breakfast and the black cherry jam which is not jam, actually confit: very nice but not sweet. Ideal for pork or another flesh, but a little too savoury for breakfast... But it's food! All food is gratefully received when you don't know what your are doing from one moment to the next? The way is before me again. I don't really like 'rest' days as they are fraught with potholes: beer, people, people, beer. It's all good! Back to Monday and the 'walking' week... Big cities bring on mauvaise santé mentale, especially after a long morning driving along the flat landscape in L'Eure - La Beauce   Second round of bread and 'jam' and this time it is confiture.. I am a lucky man. Four demi of Abbey Blonde yesterday and then a pile of beautiful Puy lentils. I am a simple man. Bon Courage...

Je suis arrivé à Orléans. And it's electioneering. I couldn't communicate that I had already arrived outside the Halte Jacquaire. So now I have meandered down to the Loire... Could be worse... Sunday afternoon from Chartres to Orléans in a smooth hour, but I talked my head off to the driver: I've not seen a soul in ages, especially to sit next to, so all I did was talk. She must've been traumatized! It might've been worse though as I might've said nothing at all... Place de la Loire and a Biére d'Abbaye Floreffe in La Concurrence... It could be worse. You know when being a bit tired suddenly hits you? Well it's done it again. I must repeat - yesterday was such a long day, without a proper feed. What will become of me today... I must get a proper feed! *** The hostess thought there was two British Pilgrims. I was surprised because I've never met another. And it turns out she was waiting for me... I guess that comes from not mentioning that I am Britis...

Because there was no chance of a coach/bus until 1800 this evening from Chartres to Orléans I decided better to get a lift with BlaBlaCar from 11am to get me there around noon. I've written to the representative of the local Amis Saint Jacques in Orléans, Compostelle 45, to see if I can stay on Sunday night in the Halte Jacquaire before I set off again Monday through to Saturday when I must head for Limoges and one nights accommodation there, before returning to the UK. The Presidential Election here in France, from the 10th, has put me off walking that week from the 11th and it's Palm Sunday on the 10th so it would be a sensible time to return for Easter Week to the UK - and dog sitting duties afterwards.  The price of flights after the 10th skyrockets because that is during the main week/2 weeks of schools Easter holidays which suggests it is sensible not to be caught paying €150 for a €12.99 flight... 10 days on The Way is better for my mental health than zero days. *** Yest...

Yermenonville: perfect to stop around a quarter past nine for an elevensies- scrambled eggs, butter and bread, and another coffee (€5.50) before the next 3rd of the way today. At around 30 kilometres at around 20 I will stop for repase  near L'Eure. Then it's down the valley towards Chartres, again. Last time was around 8 years ago when I had more hair and more weight, but less sanity. I've connected with the same fellow in Mainvilliers from then. Perhaps I stop in Chartres this evening and further discuss the beer festivals around Chartres and Sours? Every dog paw print reminds me of her. Oh well, looks like my plan of stopping around 20 Kms was premature as there was zero revitallement  in the village next to L'Eure.  So I continue another 7 kilometres? At least I ate well last night, at breakfast and had the egg, bread and butter in Yermenonville. Now I walk gingerly by the side of the railway tracks to see if anything is up ahead? Last turn and there is ...

Waiting calmly in a hidden corner of the quieter area at Leeds Bradford: there used to be a pray room here but they got rid of it to provide more space for a bar... A chance to charge this phone up. Lemon and hot water to drink. Flapjack and nuts for the brief flight to Beauvais and the 50 mile coach journey to Porte Maillot. So far no alcohol. I am in the other mode of existence... Where I Wii be seated on 21B, between folks, wishing the trip was over. A short hop. Much better than 3+ hours of Ryanair ranting and raving. My usual complaints around this time... But it doesn't matter. We're all on a journey somewhere, we're all experiencing life a little different from each other? There are a dozen Imams departing too so for them the experience might be different/difficult. The last time that there was a pray room here in Leeds Ruby Wax joined me for a moment's meditation: she's the infuriating individual who definitely sped me on my way to hopelessness... She always...

Feelings of guilt. One too many beers effected my good effort yesterday. Something, like the promise of happiness, took me for not one or two, but three glasses of Kwak. True I had walked 3 and a half hours without stopping for anything other than water, and so I was 'starving' as, in the snow, I trudged up from the Gare in Epernon to the center ville. After a late lunch - around 3pm I continued, with those 3 beers causing trouble, to the Priory of Saint Thomas and was presented with a bill for the evening of €40. And I just couldn't afford it after the prescription, food and beer had cost €50. So I said I'd have to go without food €15... The Soeur I was paying, who had a mask on, said it was OK and I could still eat that evening. I went and laid down and slept until 6pm: I really had had a long day, including 2 hours in the Hospital waiting room, and now I have penicillin... Life is complicated by not moving and being in just one place - due to COVID - surrounded me in...

The start of day three and I spy snow cover around. After many visits to the toilet - drank too much water during repase - I slept very well. I was a little cold in the room initially, but put the heating on a notch - sorry folks - and slept diagonal on a slightly shorter bed - being a bit too long is hindered by an end to the bed. What did humanity do prior to coffee, tea and hospitals... Life must've been so much a limiting factor in decrepitude and uncaffeinated? The road is pitted and stoney with precipices on either side; we must negotiate the pitfalls and sheer drops. The finger is bad this morning. Perhaps the last night's good sleep was last one, if I don't get the health service to see me?... The snow is not deep and I am ready. *** Quickly I am in Urgences at Centre Hospitalier de Rambouillet, thank you to French national health service and Marie-Thérèse for getting me here. The Accueil was very welcoming, perhaps because I am English and a pilgrim, who you rarely...