End of day one. Varzy.

Beginning of day one (five) from Vézelay: seeing people is a revelation. Being in a accueil pelerin with several dormitories is unreal: very nice. 100% better for a great night's sleep and I managed to complete East of Eden before I turned in. My backpack is lighter. Fresh clothes: the last pair of grundies before I will be required to hand wash... Briefly regarded the Miam Miam Dodo and there are two sleeping positions up ahead.

Fantastic homenade confiture! Who knew you could make it with courgettes! That's a thought? All those courgettes being forgetten... Courgette, lemon, ginger, mint... Wonderful: but more like a chutney so would go wonderfully well with meats? Like a less vinegary chutney...

Ready for the offski on day one of nine. Where will this path take me? Having no repase last night was a brave decision: I am not starving and mostly the habit of overconsumption before bed keeps me awake. What with a weak bladder too...

***

A very tiring day. By 2pm, without a place to repase and repose for a couple of hours, I felt it necessary to 'auto-stop' the 4kms between Cuncy-les-Varzy and Varzy. The first person, a worker in a beat up Iveco van on his way to the north of Varzy, dropped me a short, yet exhausting, kilometre from the Eglise... It was getting warm.

Found the Auberge recommended on the page of a website I've found with a comprehensive list of herbergement on the Voie de Vézelay: €36 b&b. No snoring this evening, but the bed is a little short for my 6'2" so I will have to sleep diagonal.

These beds in Europe with an end to them!?! Why? It is bed 'stroke' coffin: I can be draped with a Standard - not the Royal one obviously - my Egypt towel will do as it's been like a shroud to me the last five years in the flat: it definitely contains a large quota of my spent DNA.

At 3pm, after a brief wash of my socks, I sought sustenance. The only option was a Kebap on the corner opposite a Bar Tabac. I ate a three meat assiette and returned for a shower and the earned repose.

The town is nothing of substance so I will leave it in peace a little later, but, after I found the ancient lavoir, I returned to the Saint Pierre eglise and the reopening café-bae restaurant Le Goglu where I sit in the lengthening shade of the Eglise with a Weisse beer: Edelweiss. Tempting though it is to leave prior to eating I think it necessary tonight... I have no headache and breakfast is at 7. Not too much though: but a nice Entrecôte, pomme Frites, etc... Or am I only dreaming?

No. It's Saucisse de Toulouse. The closest thing to an English sausage. But I like my British ones carbonised: charred... It's just one of my choices... Occasionally I've had them semi rare. One I had in the Mercado down in Deltebre was virtually raw. Half way through I stopped considering it and ate it without really tasting it: incase I insulted the lady who did me Botifarra in her particular manner with a mountain of white beans.