Les Halles

Eight in the morning on the final day of the Chemin/Holiday(hem hem)... I don't enjoy walking 30 plus kilometres a day! It's just something which like any habit I do without considering it? And it brings me momentary relief from the banality of what goes on in England?

It's not a holiday! Well I suppose it's a kind of one from the point of view of another who sees any break from monotony as a holiday? But if I had the means (financial) and no responsibilities (Lola, mother and allotment) I'd go for a substantial time: perhaps the whole month it takes to do something like the Camino Frances (even with its crowds)?

Truthfully I've spent a little too many weeks in France this year, and my comprehension hasn't increase and my pronunciation is still pas, there are other places I would like to go on the Camino: from where I broke off. Back to Salamanca, Figueira da Foz or Tortosa and these probably should be the future starting points on the goal which would eventually to return to Santiago to complete one recognised route? For sure.

There are parts of the ways in France to connect together in my mind, but I don't think I could walk the flat featureless Berry, to complete Bourges to Argenton-sur-Creuse and I couldn't manage to return to Paris ever again! I've walked into it and out of it this year: and it is too intense, troubling, plenty rude and hurts everywhere walking on so much built up surfaces?

Limoges is always a location in the Southern continental France to which I can return from Leeds... But now I need to work my way back to Leeds, then Wetherby tomorrow to dog sit Ruby after reconnecting with Lola and her lovely eyes!

***

Back for a coffee in the Halles at Comptoir Les Nines, where I stopped surrounded by Saturday night revellers that Sunday in April.

Last night I forced my screaming mind to stay put after I ate a plate of oven chips(which I located in the empty fridge/freezer) and had a shower (there was no gel douche so I switched to sparringly using washing up liquid). So was asleep before nine, then woke with the binmen and forced myself back into sleep until I was wide awake after sunrise with a blue sky streaming into the lounge space.

Didn't like the images of Biggie Smalls or Tupac placed around the apartment: I feared their visages would enter my sleep and disturb any dreams? But it didn't. Gangsta rap is truly sinister.

The bedroom was cold last night and I couldn't locate any blankets so I dug out my sleeping bag, which smells a little from the previous 15 nights when I've had to use it. It's never let me down that sack, which I bought well back prior to the Camino experiences since 2013, but it's always been a bit narrow for me.

Gosh in May next year it's 10 years I've been experiencing this way of life, as often as I am capable...

***

Filled my belly on a double cheese burger and now I will walk the 10+kilometres up to the airport, decided not to eat at an expensive looking Bistro next to Les Halles as the last two bistrots have been pretty rude to me on The Way. Two hours walking last time, but that was early morning. Yet again I am exhausted from the long two weeks, but I am capable of the walk. No hangover. And I did sleep well... Let's go?