A rebel without a clue.

A graceful hare came out of the woods ahead of me and I only startled it back the way it came because I was discussing Brexit with mum; oh the humanity. Truly I am sorry hare it is your place not mine. Silence is a guide to awareness, these damn phones are a menace, I could've eaten a pie tonight. Here I am again. A shit town. I've to wait until four before my carriage collects me. Can't get a French bière at all. Leffe Ruby(merde) or Wife Beater. Youngsters rolling joints in empty market Halle and all down the stairwell from the chateau on top. Exterminate the brutes or sink this rotten ship. What would be missed? Me moaning I suppose. Stella Artois it is as I've only two options; strictly binary, on or off, black or white, beer or water. On my way down I drank hastily from a font which had no Non Potable sign, but neither did it have a Potable sign, yet the taste is perfect so I've filled my flask and expect Legionnaire's disease any day soon. Add it to the t...

Have the young been removed from the earth they walk upon? Has a pair of headphones, a mobile device and sunglasses hidden the real world in bytes? For me a mobile phone is a modern Swiss army knife with each potential app a means to some goal which my Victorinox ist redundant. Just now I stopped for lunch: avocado, lentils, Langres cheese, pain complete and sheep milk yogurt for which said knife became quite useful. Currently I am back on the route, and I must acknowledge I'm not sure if it's entirely the right way (my head still at that crooked angle), as I'm using this thing for what it is best for: writing, maps and photography, and for keeping in touch with Mutti too (it's easy to forget phones replaced the post before email and Messenger came along). Turning my gaze away from this thing is the best thing when I should watch the stones my feet are treading on.

Bromide, part two, girl goes into Credit Agricole, briefly, and passes me on the street. As always I look her up and down and around, she is very pleasant on the eyes, then once she has passed by I notice a little ladder up to where I should never go and I say "you have a ladder" she replies "I know" so I respond "does it go to heaven" then she smiles and I go on looking for a petit café with a grin as wide as the Rhône on my face (I learnt all I know from Benny Hill and my father's stashed collect of Fiesta, Escort, Reader's Wives and the occasional Rodox - Radox and Rodox were very confusing as an adolescent)!

Woodpecker is knocking at his mate to remind her he is a good bird. The sun stands proudly on the pedestal created by the mountains around Grenoble south east of my route. Cows and horse do perpetually eat grass: it must be like heroin, or they've found the only foodstuff that doesn't runaway, so have accepted it as their lot. Such silly creatures, however I've ripped my shirt leaning over to get a quick lick off a swelling heifer. In a few million years grass will have evolved feet so they can tell the thieves and mowers to fuck off, but then grass eaters and green fingered humans will have invented, developed or evolved wings to say come back here you swines!

Usually I'm at ease for breakfast with Camino hosts, but the last two have made me feel it's all about getting some money, so I've failed to interact properly with them. The last two families were clearly pensioners and the both wanted to guillotine Macron and I can hardly blame them if the situation in France is so bad? The general feeling is that the lower and middle bracket are being squeezed for the top level: is France heavily in debt and are the bankers wanting their money? How do bankers get politician over a barrel continually. Politics must surely be a sham: democracy is a means of keeping us rabble at bay, but it is not us who is rabid. History is said to repeat itself or come in cycles: and the paradigm shift is usually the result of something massive i.e. war, famine, disease, plague ... Global warming. The birth of the internet age is surely where the public, the unseen masses, have more voice? YouTube, Instagram, social media, etc, has give a voice to the unre...

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.