A rebel without a clue.

I decided not to be with the other pilgrims for dinner last night. After a some slices of Coeur du Boeuf, half of the saussion sec, some dried figs, bread and most of the bottle of Gaillac I decided the conversation between the volunteers (hosts) and another gentleman were judging far too many persons on the chemin so I went up to bed. Although there are always those who don't get it, and will use Donativo for their family too, any person who had just walked 25 kilometres in 32° deserves a Donativo evening anywhere. There are far too many capitalists who are hungry to use the pilgrim to have a simple, stationary life. The town of Estella in Spain only exists as it was built to service passing pilgrims - it is a fact and it is even a proud heritage found in the history books. This morning I woke too early. The German man was snoring hard and the sound of drunken Roister Doisters was traveling up to the room from somewhere along the Cele. The occasional mindless drunken annoying sho...

The Americans had a bomber (B36) designed to deliver the bomb to Russia - anywhere without refueling, it was called the Peacemaker - the killers think they're the messengers of God. Deliverance at the end of a gun. The brutal world we're in is truly a mistake. A friar is a monk of the road: take the sacred space with you. No building is needed. A couple weakness of purchases: vin blanc Fallacy, coeur du boeuf tomatoes and fromage du Tarn. One pure cow and the other 3 milks - both spectacular. The rip off of the day is possibly the train from Albi via Gaillac. Probably because it's crosses a dreaded frontier. From Tarn I head north into Lot. The weather has definitely lost its edge now which suggests that I should follow the path back along to Conques Abbey de Saint Foy. Tomorrow I am walking back along the GR 65 to Golinhac as last time I lost the plot on the Aubrac about there and now I consider I walked very little after Figeac. Such a liar I must be! But it must be do...

To paraphrase Father Murray Bodo ... Embrace that in yourself - your inner violence - look on it, respect it, but ultimately forgive it. Forgive yourself. Be gentle towards the wolf inside; be gentle there. Look at the good in your life and in that of others. Purification occurs within stillness and a state of silence. The potential to forgive myself, as well as others, occurs in an observant manner. It is our potential to open ourselves to vision of the eye of the heart. Let it be. This is Father Murray Bodo's understanding of one of the teachings of Francis of Assisi. Francis and his father were never reconciled; even though he had such love to give, and so many suggestions to make, his earthly father was beyond him. *** Another day opens up on the world. It is cloudy, but already it is breaking up. Slept soundly, but had many dreams - surreal dreams - and I blame the fabulous Cantal Jeune, that was passed round last night at the end of Repas, for this trouble. The thoughtless...

There was a trade in me just now: tears for hope, before the mythical bullshit stepped in to remind me: don't ever trust those church father's who canonised everyone in the name of their perception of who is worthy of Christ. Stigmata indeed. It is another stupid legend instead of the acceptance of a man of insight as an insightful man (woman/woman). Francis of Assisi can't just have had a point about simplicity and material destitution (from his privileged (choice) position within the mercantile elite of mediaeval Italy?). Why does everyone with a point to make about the position we've come to, as we again face moral and material dispossession in the 21st Century, become someone who has had 'Miracles' occur round about them? Then the myths get more and more irrational depending on how deified they become them? It's all about saying this person was 'much more than a reasonable human, but was sent by God, Christ, etc. to absolve 'us' of 'our...

As my age increases, into the darkness's I am witness, I am less and less interested in anything displayed in the towns I pass through - museum, gallery, castle, shop or bar. Life repeats here this morning as it did for ever. My host forgot I was here because he was on automatic, so he didn't get up for breakfast. He hastily brewed me a coffee cafeteria and comes to the apartment with a tray of breakfast spreads ... He didn't know I had bread: or was he going to return later with it? Any mind ... I couldn't do anything today really, and at eight am a bus carries me onward. It is going to scorch. Bus Ligne 301 to Clermont-d'Herault and 303 onwards. Someone spoke to me, 'a Quebec, as my body was resolving into a dream (and I think the bus driver saved me money because he said I may use the ticket at least twice again). Time to return to the dream while he returns to his hand in glove. These are deep yawns I am feeling. Where next? Saint-Pons de Thomiéres. Of co...

Just before nine pm I pack what I can, the line has my washing hanging on it (still damp), but I hardly feel the weather likely to alter much. Brewed a pot of heavy black tea to give me the strength. It's utterly silent here now. Such a relief from the frantic "dub" being played until 4am - someone informed me that 21st is the one time of year when no one requires a licence to play music! Thanks for that moment of clarity Charles de Gaulle! He, or they, thought that one long and hard - why would we actually need more music in such a noisy society? The bell chimes and at the Accueil I am joined by a couple from Germany. They seem the sensible silent types from Aachen. *** In the morning it is a time to climb the gorge, before returning to the valley for another gorge. Setting off again. Another 1km before "Le piste". The weather; it is 1pm and it is a killer! Wherever you cross a road a capitalist with zero interest in you, except to make a ton of cash, waits...

An urgent need for a toilet circling about this village looking for a discretely positioned - phew another house is open just in time. The gates have opened and the demons pour forth without restraint! And so the road goes on forever. As the sun reached its zenith, at this mid point in the calendar, and I had followed the A9 for as many kilometres as my insanity would allow. Can I walk anymore from Verdargues into Montpellier? Nine kilometres! Another option presents itself a granddaughter and grandmother in their BoHo ceramics workshop feed me fraise, pommes, etc, then promise to give me a lift to a tram stop so I won't have to walk any further in the extreme heat. ... Into the ether. Bonkers. Summer Solstice concludes at day break on the 22nd. Then my alarm awaken me again at 6am. Now Magpies battle outside the hostel and this is the last place a pilgrim should be asked to retreat to prior to another 32°. Coffee and flee! Monday morning and without wasting anymore tiredness ...