Camino Jacobeo del Ebro. part one
Coming up out of Leeds in the mist. Up Through Horsforth towards the flight to Reus. My final pilgrimage of 2025 as the season changes into Autumn. A spectacular Saturday afternoon gestating Leeds at its insidious worst. The entrails of Sunday discharged like afterbirth along Albion Street and Boar Lane. Part of me wants to follow L'Ebro to the Delta and the other me wants to walk with pilgrims westward towards Logroño. *** LBA. Minus the human carnage, it's stunning up here overlooking the runway at Leeds Bradford Airport. Out of the mist and into the azure beyond where my feet keep on keeping on: where I am not being forced into a smaller and smaller box by circumstances: mother, mental health, Lola's aging or Wetherby's hostile pressure. In Leeds Bradford Airport there is a new departure lounge. It's still an airport cluster-fuck, but it's a vast improvement on the restrictive space after Duty Free; it's a meditative space if you can survive the Yorkshire...