A rebel without a clue.

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 ...