A rebel without a clue.

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.4. With a punnet of the smallest and sweetest strawberries I wait until the bus sails into Cahors Gare sun brought a lunch under the perspex shelter, young cheese and sunflower bread, and now I switch to the lounge of the Gare to eat seeds and flesh so red, pouting and rude. The time to go is thirty five minutes of French muzak drifting lightly and Whitney Houston simpering slightly simply stumbling in this sunstruck wait station. In my head and chest I recall Jared, Angela and Nicola and The Bodyguard when we were inseparable. Jared Nelham. York Clifton Moor years have passed beyond that day for us, but I believe that was a happy halo of a few hours; and I will always love you. In the dried muddy boots I left my tent to dry in this peach of a day. Blue from horizons all around 360 degrees without clouded shades. A few contrails play about the skies like soaring dragons in flight. Every thing is still and waits the carriage of t...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.3. Sounds when I arise and the feeling songs of the dawn chorus were within touching distance of my mere bed; Mother Nature's bed. A solid floor without give or sag or impressed body yet! Time will mold to fit my shape as the earth reaches to draw me down to rest in peace. Seven bells called my body up before my descent was permanent and never again would the world be blue and jewellike and free. With time for a douche and a re-fix of my tent I left to find Cahors right bank and swim to the Cathedral and a Market jumping a volume gallic and brightly painted in product hues; piles of fraise and cherries and asparagus and pain and fromage and jamon and nouget. I wash my mind in plaisir of traditional simplicity and find French Coffee Shop where I left it yesterday to consider my day trip to Puy-l'Évêque and fine wines; quite possibly the finest wines on the finest day of this random and unthought path I tread: Juin cinq. ...

The Bar Ouf. A half eaten bottle of wine With an incomplete percentage of cheese. Twenty Five Euros and 1/3 if On The Road but for what it is worth: a tent; sleeping bag; blanket and the left bank of the Lot to sing me to sleep. The birds signing yet fade back to hooded eyed peace. Neither have I lain here pondering the somethings of bird outside my bivvy and beyond the drums I hear sounds the wheels of fortune calling me. No candle today, but stretched out to await the dawn sing song call. You only sleep when it is dark in the world. A clock I dare to see strikes the twice tenth hour and I wait upon the last blackbird to cease it's frantic soliloquy.

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.2. Everyday leads me towards a wriggling worming wandering wild but somehow structured dance. I changed into semi decent attire for Cahors walk right not left at the Cathedral and via Pont Neuf and come to the House of Wine in Cahors(not called that, mind - I forgot). I struggled to open the door as a young boy span on a carassel, for fifty, uncovered for just one pie on this particular sparkling Merdi nuit, I pushed in to engage Almond in wine plaisir and after much happy nattering he invited me to a full tasting horizontal and vertical for Cahors! Blown away I am. So I've popped by for a couple of strictly educational wines. Le Dousil is the devils wine whore whipping me to wake below twinkling stars and rustling wazow. Why whine about wine when you're in Cahors? They will look after one! Local, demi doux local, sud VDP and return to first before I walk to the Pont to be mugged, rapped(rapidly), meat hooked and left to drown in...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.1. Arrived and pitched my tent. Took no time too. Looks really cosy in there. I'll sleep soundly until the birdies bleep at dawn. Serge is our host for the remainder of the week until my stuff arrives from England. I need to find a roll matress or something compact that I can add to my back without killing it. I walked round the city and must admit it us another place that feels it. The medieval bridge etc I will see early on Wednesday morning before the crowds and the sun is up. Been to see about walking to the various vineyards and doing tours of some of the more unusual bit. My random footsteps brought me to French Coffee Shop where the proprietor helped me with instructions. I must head to Puy l'Évêque to reach wines of distinction. As recommended by Yann. He also rates Le Bergouvnoux for great quality food at a great price. He was involved in wine prior to his current venture. Belmon, Montplaisir, Nozieres VdP. D...

Pilgrimage Pt.21. When you pack to leave, and those things which were unravelled are rebound and put away tidily and you leave the room as you found it in a pelegrins Gîtes d'etape, it seems that you no longer exist or the place you moved through briefly was set aside from the cosmic reality and will not exist once you move on from it to the next stage of this paradiso/purgatoro/inferno we call life. Breakfast was started earlier so the two female pelegrins could leave for matins mass next door at the Carmelite Monestry prior to sept heures. Michael in the bed next to me is an American without a head. He has begun romantising his 'home' and thought he had already broken his pilgrimage as he decamped in Figeac. I reminded him the way is still here and he just needs to start again, but I also repeated the parable of Marjory in the Abbey Saint Foy, Conques that pilgrims have made their ways to Santiago de Compostella by foot, donkey, horse, bicycle, motorbike, car, wheelchai...

Pilgrimage Pt.20. Highs and lows. I've looked around and read a little. Now I've returned to the Gîtes for a siesta prior to the grocery shopping at 2pm with Jacques. Feel a little forboding for my decisions to cater tonight. It's so easy! So why am I nervous? Flying ants up the wall of my room. Moved bed as the hosts attacked the infestation. After a snooze we popped to Carrefour to buy groceries. It is closed until 14:30. We passed a mutton/sheep fair all penned in to go to market me thinks these be lambs to the slaughter house. Celebration of spring lamb in Figeac changes the tone to one of convenient brutality. Animals go through a very unusual existence for us humans. It's a while since I stepped into a supermarket; such soulless places. I was a little in awe and confused like a jungle tribe native who'd never clanked his eyes on civilization before. We came away with the hind quarters to slowly cook out the stew for ten mouths to feed a little prior to 15h...