A rebel without a clue.

It went on and on. Apart for a couple of water stops I plunged on until, behold, a huge lake spread out before me. Then it was curving to right down from the hill and then left into Le Pin. Once I arrived everything was closed and the streets were quiet, except for one girl going passed on a bike who I hollered and she, Katherine, did what she could to try find to me a place to stop. The only option really is the Accueil Pelerin further along the Way, (and a bit back up these hills). €30 for a very comfortable room, but there was no chance of dinner (usually), however as it a Dimanche, and nothing will reopen this evening (and I'm not moving another muscle), he said don't worry. At seven I've chicken, potatoes and rice and a provençal sauce, a Danone vanilla dessert, some welcome (slightly dry) bread and a nice piece of a goats cheese. The host, who speaks no English, has been excellent - he also dropped me a couple of beers to quench my thirst - Kronenbourg - and sorted to...

The worst thing about Brexit is the utter silence of the Shelob at the centre of the web of deception: QE2, however some think she is without skin, blood or bone! Signposters for the Chemin in France take note: I much prefer to see the distance to walk in kilometres rather than hours. Time is such a subjective experience that I feel I am due to walk forever when, with the distance measurement, I feel at ease. Had a break to rebalance my body. Only 7.5kms to Le Pin, back up a steep incline. Much food was consumed as a swarm of flies descended to the Eglise. Symbolic of what I don't know, as I saw not a soul at Valencogne? The door to the church stood wide open, but no-one came out or went in, including me, then I dropped an avocado seed and it too rolled away from the church. Only the flies, avocado peel and tomato core remained to litter this empty space.

Overslept, but I think I needed it. It's a bit icy this morning. On the road side verges. Added logs every so often, as I was chilly in that big house alone, and applied a bellows to keep the wood smoldering. Donativo this place. Jolanda and Jean-Michel fine people, but I only had €12 left. Think I was talking their heads off. Jolanda understands more English, and we could jump a little to German, but JM went running for dictionary most times. We realized we both have issues with pronunciation. So funny I thought it was just one way! La Massotte. 31st March. April fool's Day tomorrow. Pay attention - England look at what you are doing? Please come together for everyman, as divided we fall to tyranny and much worse. Please awaken to the reality that we are united as people not divided as states! I have been trying to distance myself from Brexit as I recall the shock of the morning after the vote. In St Ives, Cornwall, they overwhelmingly voted to leave, but then worried that E...

No room at the inn in Saint-Genix, so with my will declining I am forced to go to Netto to fetch some food and go onwards another 4kms. At quarter to six I am horizontal, but I am safe in a house specifically for pilgrims opposite the massive farm house. The bed is slightly damp, but I have a fire burning and I'm sure once it's aired it will suffice. Beggars cannot chose and I'm not due to give birth to the son of God. Now the host says you must eat with us. So why did the bloody lady in the Office de Tourism send me off to Netto? Anyway I now have a great deal more to carry tomorrow, but a much shorter distance. Today ended up at 32kms, I had Mont Tournier in the way too and I have a proper fire: should I pass away due to carbon monoxide poisoning at least I managed one third of the way to Le Puy, which I think is supremely better than standing outside No. 10 showing how very racist Brits have really become: was Enoch Powell a prophet?

There are so many bees that their combined matter is a very obvious sound. France is luscious: it pulsates with life. Everywhere I look I see flowers; a lawn verdant and facund. The roadside is a meadow and the meadows entertain the cows merrily with more wild flowers than I can name. Everywhere I walk I hear bird song and in the valley a brook tumbles gently. The very Nature breaths and cheers me on. But it's too warm for March/April. I've brought a bivvy, mat and pillow which maybe unnecessary? Too early to say, but by today I'm a third of the way to Le Puy, so I've managed this weight until now! It was time to stop for another food break. Two three hour stints so now only a gentle meander into Saint-Genix and I see there is an Accueil Parosse so that is my destination; the bivvy can wait? Lying down with a bull and four of his sons. The wonder of them. He was busy scratching he head on some drain cover, which had been used often. They all came to drink at a butt s...

"You're going the wrong way" say the woman with a fine ass and her two daughters with better asses. Get down: bromide tea required. Husband watches them wiggle onwards alongside me thinking "am I going the wrong way?". Otherwise I'd have seen no one. Plenty of elderly dogs attempting to bark, with more wheeze than insidious intent; bye bye wonder bums. Who needs medical teas when all I really require is a bull in my path bellowing between his heirs. White as snow cows, but the father looks too testicular to offer much resistance.

The climb up Mont Tournier makes me recall Ernest Hemingway's description in For Whom the Bell Tolls, as they snake their way through the Sierras keeping away from the Fascists and the omnipresent Condor Legion. My body said stop for brunch at just before ten and prior to highpoint on the altimeter. At eleven I am almost at the first village, Saint-Maurice de Rotherens but there isn't any Accueil Jacquaire available there so I'll stop a moment, rest these feet, calves and thighs, however no wine must take advantage while I am not aware! Go hang - it's a day of revelry and mischief. No! Be good and await another time to celebrate the wine when you don't have miles to go!