Up, up and away ...

Yes! I am here. Good morning Limoges.

What an awful experience from the moment of stepping into the airport until the plane vanished into leaden skies above Yorkshire... The things I do to myself to get some mental solitude?

Forgetting to book in online(there is always a first time), which cost a mind altering £55 for a couple of stripes of paper, and the place was rammed with the drunkest rottenest Leeds United kit wearing yobs - some being carted away by the police presence.

LBA, or should I say England the nation over, is a dirty, squabbling and overpriced hell hole. And the flight was delayed almost an hour. It was standing room only in that tight squeeze of an airport: there is nothing fun about airports (no romance whatsoever) where even loin cloths are overpriced!

But, gratefully, I am in Limoges. Sadly there was no way I could be awake to catch the 5:35am Flixbus to Cahors, but there are plenty of BlaBlaCar options going south this Monday morning and I spotted one is going to Agen so I could miss out Cahors and pick up the trail in Condom, further along the GR65, but that wouldn't be right?

Walking 25 kilometres per day might actually be impossible and I will see with the Morton's Neuroma, regardless of the steroid injection I had a week last Thursday ago, what I am capable of?

It's all good, here and now, as I almost left the airport and returned to the same four walls, which I loath to look at, on the 11th floor of Lovell Park Grange, to remain in Leeds and never feel the essence of el Camino again ... Which would definitely kill me(this time) as God knows I couldn't live in the pits of despair without any hope of egress or catharsis on offer! And 52 is simply too young to depart this strange realm?