A rebel without a clue.

Montpellier Pt.2. Monday morning torrential rain until 3am, binmen at 5am and street cleaners at 7am. Hi Montpellier I am awake and wondering what happened to nothing? Put on your morning shoes; dancing shoes, it's good for you. Good morning. In France there isn't any such thing as a good morning. Bon Matins is not a concept. The changing aspects are not reflected in the morning. Day break I have my fast of cafe, confiture and pain: the repeat of the everyday man. I am le chatty man. Not an Alan Carr twatty man syndrome merci! Third cup of cafe/choco and really I still feel a little indistinct. I'm pushing my self to fratenise but don't really have the feeling for it. A youngster with Nike Air Jordan's Marke trois hasn't the history of them in his stride. Is it a fault of the older generation's grinding teeth when they see the lack of a subculture that hasn't been assimilated into corporate face/off empty eyed mouthing? There is no struggle amongst t...

Montpellier Pt.1 Merry French revellers, Spanish bongo drummers p/assing the windows and such clacking thunder of snores: in Montpellier I sleep in an ancient pilgrimage halt for a night but most of the noises kept me alive in that dark. Even at six this morning people verily singing and shouting as they travel back to where-ever they live. But so inconsiderate at dawn to call so vigorously. The young do not know what happens around them; just between their ears and legs. I was never a carosering choruser. Oh snores of fin. The destraction to destruct all notions of sleep on this Sunday morning. I don't have to quit this donativo at all until ten. Back to struggle with sleep a while, I feel, now the partiers have vanished and the snorer will awake soon. I retired again but the death rattle of magpies kept this away. Eventually I turned over and all the beds were vacant and the sky shone through my unshuttered windows. Rise and attend to petit dejourner somewhere. I hung out for ...

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...