A rebel without a clue.

Good morning Cambridge. Where did this rain come from? Yesterday was pleasant indeed. Almost balmy. People where taking pleasure in the parklands until sunset. Now is the time to leave the busy streets for calmer YHA and and an afternoon siesta. A new pair of Meindl insoles in my boots and suddenly my feet feel really wonderful - the other pair were really passed their best! *** Six people in a dormitory is the last thing I need for great night's rest prior to any walking. However I managed a little meander out along the Cam to the edge of Cambridge, before I turned back to head back to catch the 12:01 train, which will be the first of a few legs before I arrive back in Leeds some time this afternoon. Really I am much too tired to entertain anymore walking for a while, and suddenly I feel I've lost touch with Lola (Hungarian Vizsla) for too long: need to connect and have some quality time with her, from Tuesday, for a few weeks. It's another kind of walking for better M...

What makes me lose it in a town like this? Really because I am bewildered by it. Feeling pointless and watching the world speed by unable to connect on any level with it. Not having the skills to rationally deal with the circumstances of "having" to be here. It is always the same problem which repeats itself and I never able to see before it hits me. Before it's too late and I'm in the one state I dislike most. All the good mind work feels undone in one disappointing afternoon. The lack of self-control at this exact moment. And then it's the usual pain in my neck: Americans in Lourdes talking extremely loudly about their "itinerary". I've not heard an English voice in a few weeks and now it is than predictable, superficial American drawl in my head! They get into my veins and give me an ague! Their experience of France seems totally superficial to me  in the way they list everything as though a shopping list. Is it arrogant of me to feel superior be...

Lourdes reminds me of Blackpool. Hotels on every street leading into the spiders web where at the very centre sits an untruth so unworthy of trust or respect: an Enigma. Wrapped up in a silk and brocade fabric comes a villain so disdainful and makes Dracula, himself, shudder at the throat. Except in Blackpool I suppose you know you're being taken for a ride? But I'm here. Hitching here was the only way. I've the tiredness of the eyes where squinting at the clouded skies draws a thousand dry tears to desicated ducts. Coffee next! What would I want here? Very simple beer. Karmeliet does it every time. Bizarre town. Full of all-sorts. I'm going to sit here and clean my boots next to another cleaning her lungs. One of the easiest ways to get about in France is by Hitching (auto stop) what probably would've taken several hours to travel to Lourdes took an hour. Three different people and I arrived. Now I am in a seedy two bit hotel (€18) and I reckon prostitution is r...

In reality I crossed the bridge in a car and perhaps that's enough? It was one bridge too far for me to walk. Strange that I looked across but never set my foot on the other side? Instead I watched the water flow from the right side of the iron structure. The five days from Mas d-Azil to Lortet have been very demanding and I took no rest days since Carcassonne, even with Sunday's hangover, and my knees are swollen, my toes are sore, I've callouses on my shoulders from where the backpack digs in and I'm covered in an assortment of scratches, bites and something on my left thigh. Oh! I feel weary and alone. Perfectly dark and somewhat silent space last night, except I woke at midnight and couldn't return to sleep because during the night cow bells really stick out: how I feel for cows to have them strapped to their necks forever ... never any respite until they're dead? Woke before six and got up. Made scrambled eggs, coffee, toast and am listening to the clunk...

The last few days I've passed through villages with no bar, no tabac, no épicerie and no marché, as well as no cash point. Just now I was losing my reason, because I had not eaten since breakfast at seven, but luckily in Gite for groups I saw a hastily written instructions welcoming pèlerin in. The door was open but the cupboards were bare! But in the fridge was enough cake to carry some along for later! Was getting a little frantic before then and had tried to eat raw acorns, chestnuts, dandelion leaves and these didn't make me feel this way was working. It was great cake! And now I am in Lortet but it has no shop, bar (yet) or anything. Three guys are renovating a hotel on the way into town, but it doesn't open for 2 weeks. One of the fellows has given me some food and a beers, but suddenly I feel the overt competitive masculine manner of the guy coming to dominate the conversation. Helpful guy, if a little lost trying to acquire "only the best", but I had to l...

Another day and another voice in my head. The lady I shared the room with is stressful. It's interesting to hear someone in another language talk low of you to those around the table. To get out of bed and be ready to depart I must turn on the light. It was only a bedside light. At the table I didn't respond: I'm not sure it was worthy of me. No matter! I feel heavy today. Yesterday was "trop" - too much. The straw which almost did me in. I was losing feeling in my fingers and toes: the stiff wind blowing when the rain stopped was making me shiver. Last night I couldn't eat so went to bed, but I couldn't sleep. Then the house opposite had a light on shining straight into my eyes so I tossed and turned until I felt I could resist no longer: I got up and fumbled with the shutters. Then I felt a chill around four as the blanket seemed incapable of keeping any warmth in. Finally the stressful ladies phone buzzed at six so I got up, used the bathroom, returne...

This chambre d'hôtes is probably the most comfortable on this time out, but the room was full. Some walkers and some hunters and plenty of snoring. The beds were comfortable, but a little too close together: at €20 for all the host has done (including washing my dirty stuff) I'm content. And I definitely slept long enough for the day ahead. I'm early for breakfast. The hunters are in one room and the "pilgrim" are in the other. Coffee and croissants. Our host is drying my clothes off I think he's an ex-pro who played for Marseilles, but before Chris Waddle's era. Oh I got that wrong he played for another team in Marseilles no wonder he looked at me like I'd lost the plot? There are a couple of hills ahead, but they're facile(apparently) compared to yesterday when we crossed in Haut Garonne and out of the regional park. Two of the guys in the room are walking from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean on the GR10 which sounds tough, solitary and dange...