Yo-Yo time.

And so it's over. Another day dawns. Saturday 21st October.

Back to England, back to Leeds, back to Lovell Park. I crawled into bed at 9 and was asleep.

I called into 4 of the establishments I am associated with along the route back, as I left a bewildering confusion of bodies in Leeds City Station, and none of the folks in any of them could really recall where I had been and for why. It's because the world they inhabit is so small that they can't see beyond it... Bless them. They're young, and I was once, and my time returning there is waning. Usually I am kind of excited to step over the threshold, but nothing changes really... It is the same. Nothing in reality is ever the same. It's in my mind that it is the same. Forgive me for I have sinned! Too often have I stepped below the mark. The mark is easy to see, but equally easily to stumble over...

Nothing changes. Down Albion Street the morning after the storm. Saturday begins. A lady, who has her space below a telecoms tower, with her dog, sets up her area to beg from and Caffe Nero opens its doors to do the same. Both clocks I face, the one above the entrance to the Griffin Hotel, Mill Hill  and one above the Trinity Centre Car Park, on New Station Street, are displaying the incorrect time: they're not present ... But nothing ever is in that world.

Back to Wetherby and a grand day with Lola. Bus 8 to Knaresborough and then bus 7 back to Wetherby. A good walk alongside the Nidd and to Starbeck before my left foot began playing up: blasted Salomon trail boots! No cushioning whatsoever. It hadn't played up at all while on the Camino in the proper Altberg Nordcap walking boots or when pottering around in the flip-flops I picked up in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.

On the bus journey back from Harrogate, at 3:10pm, and an old school friend was on the bus. He asked me to join him for his 50th birthday in Headingley, but in truth I can think of not one thing, apart from the cricket ground, I like there... And I really have zero in common with him anymore. Indeed he spoke of the one time I stayed at his m&d's house back in 1991... More than 30 years ago. And I am definitely going back to continue the Camino as soon as I have finished with Archie(dog sitting 26th October until 2nd November). I can get back to Santander and either head back to Frómista or head off from Santander on the Camino del Norte?

A brief exchange of stuff with mother, but the box in the corner dominates once more. And it's barren: what does it really do? I would never miss it. Booking a return to Santander on the 4th is the sensible option otherwise I'll just drink and drink and drink. The way is always ahead and not in circles which tighten with every passing moment.