Saturday morning

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 amount of monies, then this would be my life: on the road, forever, no fixed abode. It must be the final section of my mortality. Wetherby is always at the end of the route and it's a little narrow of focus for me. During my illness it has kept me alive, but slowly it is draining me of desire. Luckily another opening for me is up ahead. As I have said to myself since 1st January - this year will be the last (or the last one like the past 10 years)!