A rebel without a clue.

This morning youths are showing they gave no damn for the night or dawn; good on them. Penultimate jour pour moi. Sat in voiture sept of le TGV from Hendaye to Bordeaux St Jean. Need one night in a Gites d'etape or relais before bon voyage a au revoir. Again France explodes in my face at how expensive anything is: €3.50 Croque M. No way am I even considering that. A cheese toasty for £3, bechamel is a blanc sauce. Shared a room with a French pelerin so €60 was not helling heavily weighing. Yesterday was a day of traveling and sleeping and purchasing travel tickets. Suddenly it is too expensive to roam unplanned. What ever happened to last minute sales? But it is of no matter. The conductor blows his whistle and I can look at the many positives of my pilgrimage: I did it! One way or another I reached a goal that beckoned me unasked. Now reach out for cafe noir. Coffee is literally more expensive than beer on a TGV. I moan, but it is just some beans roasted to a very hi...

Waiting for the closure of today back in Cervantes where the folk music still flows and is a gracious improvement on vagabond pipes and harp played 24/7. A tray of scallops to earnestly become a paid in full member of the Saint James club and Ribero del Duoro barrique aged; dense but insignicant. Seems white barrica is not common/possible: fancied a chardonnay fat buttery but there is no fat barrique white to be had von Cervantes Bar. For some odd off reason just must fly/drive anywhere Saturday or Sunday. Nothing calm can come from Santiago. Perhaps a trip to the open mercado early on the morrow; buy fruit. Just said bonjour/salut to Wilfred and Linda; nothing to say: the end has come. Why should this normal place freak me so much. There isn't nothing anything something different from York, etc tourist city. Check out an internet cafe to book a flight to northern England? To be sure found O Paris Bar again not easiest bohemian place to locate in the street of thousands of facele...

The final day of walking. Amazed at myself for being brilliantly resilient since all that was thrown my way since 21st May in Leeds, UK; bit vain too! Of all the guys who left the final cafe this morning only the two Germans and I made it to this 3* Hotel(my only extravagant expense since leaving France); over a dinner of fresh tortilla and salad, tarte compostella and a bottle of Alberino we discussed which wine, movies, books we'd take to a desert island. I assumed they meant a book they'd not read before as you'd need something very long, interesting and unknown to you previously? Late rise for me was just prior to seven. I am packed and will bathe again; I noted this morning the mozzies gave me one stinging in Bruma. Much welts! Time for breakfast has come and gone and I'm on the final stage. Leaving hotel saint vincent lighter mentally and financially. The town that disliked people: Siguerio. Sure it won't let you down? Checking down the way markers we brea...

Don't dance her down? Rias Altas Betanzos 2011. There comes a time when you know cheese, wine, beer, cider, bread, cured meats; ectcetra, and your knowledge can reform views on combinations in France, Italy, Croatia, Spain, ectcetra. Wow it feels nice to be useful but not conceited. Portugalleses taking the informed opinion of an angleterra and thinging a wave of some Riesling summer stylee. And so to bed? Yup. To be asked by either a Parisian or Madridian which counties wine is best is vainglorious and extremely blinkered. The locality of the vino, food, etc. It is always the Pays Pais Country stuff you should faggazal! I don't care I am alluring towards love for arnica that was chased from Mageride to Galicia! Oh right that's right 5am. Wherever there's a crowd there's a urge to wake earlier and earlier so I toliet and then return for a broken hour or two. At 7am the distance yawns before me like a sleepy cat. One day more to spend walking a long way in a race to...

Azurely assuredly a day for walking the shortest route possible. Slept deep yet woke up terribly exhausted. Yesterday was all round too tough so aiming for Betanzos, which is just over one tremendous hill and no more. Breakfast is essentially necessary now! Finding a cafe as succeedingly provisioned again might be unlikely. There is a comforting under floor heating this morning yet still no hot water! Linda has sun stroke or dehyration so we breakfast and I depart with two juicy figs and pass through a smokey trough over the bay looking for a clear sign I am on the Camino. After an up at the heaven climb I hit the top and passage of barking dogs cheering me onwards and eventually chetch and choing smoking house or a saxophone for a maximum blower. To walk alone. Pact of suicide dogs as I trundled through con/sin Gas. U know I sin con Gas! I sinned not; on only two occasions I have been requested to prove my identity: once buying a BigMac in Ferrol and just now in Miño buying sil...

The old man didn't stay he was just looking to keep his metaphysics warm. Linda and I shot up to the Bar Excelsior for a little picho and a glass of vino for Linda and Sidra from moi then I ordered a meal; which indeed arrived as two! There was me thinking I had only asked for a side salad, not a main meal, to go with spicy pork and chips. You don't need a McDonald's at 3pm and have another full helping around 7pm. Tomorrow I maybe have to wait a while for breakfast. The Portuguese mother daughter combo have gone to wait the songs of Spain's fiesta while I read Jack traveling back across west with Moriety hot on his heels. I wish I had the balls to just to make split second leaps or knew how I could survive without the solidity of back up finances. Simply I'm tepid not distinctly warm: even now there could be fun tonight, but I've removed my body from direct assault; I want to be shielded from the night and be ready for breakfast. Age is a state of mind. I suppo...

9:55am A Coruña €13.30, 12:30pm Ferrol €7.20 and most of my emerging mental problems are resolved as we disappeared to the North; two legs. Ferrol is a modern sea port with very little to dream about. Once I found the Spanish square and a helpful man I was set on a journey to discover a place to rest down for the night, clean my dirties and relax ahead of the next five days; I expect to arrive on Friday properly mentally accordant and receive my compostele. The fiesta concludes tonight and tomorrow is a bank holiday in Spain. This long weekend of revisions and decisions over the longest days of 2013 I have arrived in Neda and may be ready for what will be my final week of pilgrimage in Spain; I plan to get back the cheapest option after a strenous week free of crowds. There are currently 8 in an auberge 28; if the numbers stay the same yippee we start Monday perfectly. But a confused old man!?! Always a confused old man! I leave him looking for his credentials ... They ...