A rebel without a clue.

On departing Cahors/Chemin de la Saint Jacques @ Cahors, Toulouse & Montpellier Why just retirees? Have the young forgotten their feet in a consumer dust? All teettoring on the gulf of cracked tooth and forked tongue wag. No matter what I say, and how close to pronouncement, I am sounding more like the French Policeman in Allo! Allo! Fucking dick Hank! Good riddence to appallingly arrogant man. Yet au revoir to Serge; a splendid homme! I spoke to my Irish cousins no more; carrying the hopes of disappointment on their furlocks and moist hiberian palms. Bought petit fraise, €2, figue and banane sans moisture, €8. The Moroccan crook wanted €10 for 100 grammes of dried banane and fig. C'est la swindler! With a change of pace becomes a change of place and change of pleasure: hello Edinburgh University persons! Bonjour pretty journey femme heading to teach in Italia. Rant to university boyo from Leicester via NUT and Edinburgh History degree over. Jump on another tr...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.12. No no no. I am surrounded by Hank the ogre and an party of quite pointless hiberians. Why? I thought it was just me and my francophiles; not tedious dutchphon l am fobic of his gaping jaw arrogant loudness. Why did he need to sit next to me and why didn't I move even when he did. Retiring to bed after four courses of our host and his partners best fayre I can still two floors up still hear that monster's voice. La guerre du! He is an arrogant chin waiting for a blind darkness to be kicked in the fuckthathurts. Over. Nice meal and I love Serge and his honesty. He makes me feel at home even if I asked not to sit with my Celtic cousins and hoped to remain unhanked ... I didn't judge but retired as early as Serge wouldn't seem badly of baldy eye. To bed with BRA! To speak to my sister and be happier within and without.

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.11. An OCD day? Yes I am tidying my rucksack for the morrow in a most distressingly calm and organised fashion. Cahors is ending; but I am peacefully and absently silent. Drifting unto the frontiers of Friday I put all my clothing straight along the line and organised it by what I will wear and what I will roll so blimingly sweetly tucked in the bag awaiting the advance of Samedi. I purchased a pélerin pendant from a charity for five euros and gave a beat up tramp my final five euros change. Bon Voyage people and have a wonderful vintage. I switch off this means of concerning and instead spend the time reposed in On The Road. Byeeee!

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.10. It struck me this morning that my contemplations began in March and have been marching and evolving ever since. I read back the first part of my current journey and the latest part and the differences are immense. Celine of French Coffee Shop also thought my tone had moved from appallingly suicidal to frankly free and apparently not feeling my impending doom. Lots of simple ways to finish my decamp this Friday. Nothing significant other than I bought the 2nd and 3rd best wines I tasted last night. The first sadly isn't available for three weeks. I'll look out for it again. On balance the two wines were a grand €42, but I figure Glenn and I will enjoy them sometime in Montpellier. If Jason were in Montpellier then I would've brought the last wine of the slurping, but sadly he is in England and i won't see him until Rome and an entirely different category of rouge ... rosso - advice on a postcard please Janice/Fabio et a...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.9. Je suis un pélerin? Friday morning: 6am, I slept for the third night under the stars with the croaking of the frogs and acquired some tender bites from vamp like mozzies while I took my solace post wine taste from 7pm until 9pm. Some very charming vignerons, sassy ladies from France, England and Alix a mix of France, Scotland, Italy via South Africa. I asked her out today, but some South African family friends arrive today... No can do, but we'll follow each other at a distance ever stretching but internety and betwixt the twain. By the end of the tasting Almond, host, told me off for helping myself once too often. I am grateful to all whom showed this years blanc ans vintage 2012. Some successes and a couple average and two clear winners with one an interesting third for Sauvignon lovers. I will pop back later to photograph the ones I sampled; for the record I was a little drunk as this was a slurp not a spit! Drifting...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.8. Taking my turns round the cathedral to Saint Etienne I was washing my head and neck with water from the holy font when Brad walked beyond me into the space. I watched him and noticed he hadn't seen me so I waited til he had gotten solumn and spirited and launched an attack upon his calf like I was a devil reaching up to pull his measerly body into the place we're all going to go (right on brother!)? We were truly happy to bump, bounce and brave the subtle Ways that continue to deliver interleeveing of our data streams. But we worried about the virus or corruption in Michael's datastream. His packet to packet had become an exception error from which his only resort was to install a recent backup or wipe his thought clean, or return to his manufacturing home and call the whole thing off? Driven off the way by the longing for a return to apple pie, jelly and burgers. Nothing was alive in his eyes; I've felt close to that b...

Pilgrimage decamp @ Cahors, Midi-Pyrénées. Pt.7. Walking round the bend of the tumultuous Lot and walking up to a cliff overhanging the linear cataract if I didn't have fear my mind would not resist. Something distant is occasionally speaking to me with abrasive voice: I dismiss it quick and confound with joy le vie. Awaiting fixed to the spot I stood gollum strong, again for the swallows to dive under the arch for 'the' photo, but they failed to show twice. Following the route GR65 I went above for views of the city and bridge in the foreground and was nervy towards the edge; in sandals I could topple over. It is a majestic city below and beyond. Why pass through unaware on GR65 unless you see only god ahead and not all around. On my own that voice! I don't know who it is. But it is not the seeing eye. It must be some damned creature infested in a distant cellar. By one I defeat the other one because I know and is wrong. It is a noise from the past; distinctly on it...