A rebel without a clue.

The final leg. The bus between Serqueux and Amiens, passing Forges-les-Eaux, and memories of June heading west towards Dieppe, Rouen, Arras and Amiens(twice). Domaine des Traverses and Feuquieres in Picardie, Quiberville and Fontaine Saint-Sulplice in Caux Normandy. Where next? To stay in Amiens, Compiegne or Beauvais. It's been a long morning with this being the forth leg of getting from Bayeux. The last of four. The longest. A bus through the same area I sweated in, during June's heatwave ... How different this July from 2022? Damp and not warmer than 20. Drizzle yesterday and this morning too. Now I wait to catch ligne 601 back to Beauvais. The next time I reach will be when? I guess some distance off? But I must, repeat must, come on a Chemin. A proper one! For the good of my sanity. Twice this time I drank. Last night with the guys running La Gargouille and back in Rouen. This morning I didn't think to concern myself with getting back to airport mid morning, but it see...

I seek it in this person, in a place, in a bar, in that beer, in that wine, in a cheese, in shirts, in sandals, in socks, in breasts, in a dog, everywhere and in everything, but there is nothing external. Before the next tiring stage of the journey east I stumbled into an overpriced and over glamorous coffee, patisserie which caters to all the image you dare to project in a material existence. I looked at the Hipsters around me and barged out and took up residence on the bar at the Café Metropole where I was reminded, and amused, that JP Satre and Simone de Beauvoir lingered contemplating their existence in the same cafe, but in another time and space before their atoms became, like all good relics, tied up with mine improving this vintage at the lowest/highest level of being. Oh the humanity!

Yet more mosquitoes to battle. I bashed most with a pillow but one remained elusive and persistent - I let it succeed where the others failed and now count the bites while enjoying a tartine and coffee at a Boulangerie Capucine along from the old town, across the pont and opposite Halles aux Grains. Now I set off back to the UK  back towards Beauvais fit fo, the flight tomorrow as a breeze whips up the fallen linden blossoms. The confiture was Tiptree wild blueberry - in France! Because it's very very good jam man? Mosquitoes must love alcoholic blood types? Because of my wanton stupidity, on the spur of a tired afternoon when I could walk no further, I missed the chance to visit the tapestry. It's not going anywhere and I really don't like paying an entrance fee to view what should be for all to see regardless of means, surely? It's a thousand years old and is a internationally important document... It's existence is completely accidental... It should b...