A rebel without a clue.

Just walked the long 20 minutes into Glastonbury. Bought a few supplies from Earthfare. Perhaps I eat them tonight with the red beans I bought in a Colombian cantina/cafe in Colham? The weight would be better inside me. The girl, Shanti, who showed me into the Airbnb accommodation said I could use all the kitchen facilities. Makes plenty of sense. But it might make the beans and garlic for breakfast to go with the chapattis I've been carrying since Birmingham. Tomorrow I can certainly start the day vegetarian if it's up to me: I think she also said to help myself to coffee. Tomorrow is Bridgwater and back into the tent. I called ahead to the coast to an independent hostel but it's no use me going as it's for 'bubbles' etc and the price is exorbitant; much the same as the YHA. My primary issue with walking in England is the cost of accommodation and the niggling dislike I have of camping. When sunrise is before 5 and sunset around 9 the birds chatter a lot before...

Yesterday I struggled so much with hayfever and then trying to find some solace in bloody Bridgwater. In the Weatherspoons and the Fountain Inn a local refused to stop trying to talk to me. In Weatherspoons I made an excuse and headed indoors, but at the Fountain Inn a crazy woman from Halifax, who claimed me as 'kin' just couldn't understand that I am socially anxious. She claimed she was too, but just wouldn't leave me alone... and as I was sat at the furthest away place outside my only option was to run away screaming which I did indeed! But I did find a fantastic Portuguese Delta café in Eastover area where I finally got over the weary day on Super Bock Preto and bolo. The Admiral Blake Guest House was quiet, but the room I was in only had a sky light window so felt stuffy most of the night. I slept au naturel until my usual time - 5ish - when too many still Somerset scrumpy ciders came out the other orifice. By 6:30 I was desperate to find breakfast. The town centr...

Day three dawns after a perfect evening's sleep. Awake and eating Frijoles Rojos Colombianos by 5:30am. My backpack is thoroughly packed and I'm just enjoying a agave sweetened LOR Classique instant coffee. It'll be ablutions, boots on and away. I found a slight short cut back to Magdalene Street so don't have to follow too much road out of Glastonbury? Yesterday wasn't a lot of walking (10 miles), but it was primarily tarmac. The can of frijoles antioqueños is enough for two plates of refried beans so they're safely stowed in Tupperware. Left Glastonbury via Wirral Hill/Ridge and the later part of The Romam Way as it slumbered and passed through Street as labourers stepped into the healthy morning option 'Greggs' - two mornings ago that was me labouring over two full breakfast baps! Just connect the field ways parallel to the suggested lane coming out of Street, to the South of Walton. Streaming west! It's eight and time for a slash! What hayfever! ...

Didn't sleep well with the church bell cacophony every 15 minutes all through the night. Now I wait by the ancient monument in Westbury sub Mendips for the bus into Wells to find a large breakfast. From there I'll find another way to Glastonbury and, perhaps, Street? While waiting for the bus from Weston-super-Mare I'm finally conquered by hay fever. I felt it a little during the night but walking through those 3 miles of fields between Cheddar and Westbury has done me in... ... Full English up by the Bishop's Eye from TWENTYONE. I'm passing through Wells. That's twice in my lifetime. Suddenly I'm retracing my footsteps back the way I came in 2010 at the end of my summer in Padstow: not literally as I didn't walk that time. Leaving Wells behind after a great breakfast via the Bishop's Palace and Moated complex - there isn't a single thing Godly amongst all these heavy stones and fetid waters. How did a simple message get so distorted into a palat...

Two fully loaded breakfast baps from Greggs(yuck!!!) later and I'm heading out of Bristol towards the Clifton Suspension Bridge. What a view looking up at it and looking outwards towards the Bristol Channel: I never knew that Portishead was on the coast. After I'd been on my feet for 2 hours from Clifton, and leaving behind the heavy Monday morning traffic, I passed through a 'random little village' (Dundry) on this Samaritan's Way around 10:30am and there in the Pub/Shop I bump into a guy who used to sleep below me when I worked in Padstow at Pucelli's in 2010! Small world full of serendipity! He was a great lad, but got moved into another house as soon as possible - I do snore my head off. Looking back I can make out the suspension bridge 5 miles away as I'm about to hit rolling countryside with Chew Valley Lake in the distance. The fecundity of England in June where everything is verdant and nodding in the slightest breeze. A touch of hay fever caught me ...

All is as I like to leave it at number 69: washing done and left tidy, fridge on setting half and all other electricity off. Almost set off without a coat! So hastily headed back to the eleventh floor. Also took a meter reading, but it seems only to show one figure - not a day/night reading - so need to speak to someone at Eon on Monday morning. Ate a very 'soured' porridge, which I left out on the windowsill for two nights. I love soured/fermented oats and it's better for digesting. There is a gentle rain falling on Leeds which might help to refresh my allotment or encourage more thistles to pop out. The coach is going to be full by Nottingham and there is no social distancing in place. Sit back, relax and fear naught: it's 8:05am and I'm finally on my way out of 'war torn' Leeds; Covid has gone on and on and on since December 2020.

5 hours in a cramped Coach, with an hour hovering in Birmingham - a town I've always felt foreign to my charms - and here I am in Colham. Perched above Bristol it is definitely Portobello or Brighton. My gate dragged me to my hostess, Airbnb, far too early so I suggested she doesn't rush back from an afternoon tea on account of me. Now here I am in 'Bravas' pretending in in Iberia and not the South West. It's going to cost a pretty packet so it's neither Malaga or Alicante - another Camino setting off with a slight hangover. How did I do the first day from Alicante up to Cueva de San Pascual with a hangover... I will probably find out tomorrow on my way to Cheddar? I register nothing here though. I'm watching chefs in dirty/discoloured attire... This happens. But there is definitely a surfit of cleanliness in their nether regions. I dislike dirty chef pants and filthy shoes.