A rebel without a clue.

Glenn and I are off to Andalusia. The price of a LFT has crashed to around £6! Why were the likes of Randox allowed to charge whatever price they felt like back in 2020 and 2021? Now they've probably got a vast quantity of test kits which will soon be quite literally worthless to everyone, and will get dumped on somewhere third world or unrecyclable: probably Romania, Bulgaria or Ukraine. Oh and the UK government has sent military hardware to the Ukraine. Just as COVID vanishes up pops the other nonsense: war, conflict, aggression; sphere's of influence! Oh I don't know! Isn't the Ukraine really Russia anyway. It's definitely not western Europe as they are mainly Russian Orthodox... Go figure. I would advise those who are being slapped on the back by the US, UK, et al, that they're using you to sell weapons and ideologies!  The US doesn't care about the Ukraine, but they do like to keep the tangle of conflicts carrying on. Life doesn't matter at all in t...

To change my life in someway. At the moment, although I have the enthusiasm for change, things outside my control: my mother's situation, are preventing me from being bolder than I have been during my experience of the Camino. It's in my power to walk away from all this responsibility, and let mother stagnate further, but I do feel a little compelled to stay around her very small circle. My decision to make this year count has a long way to go. What I'd like to do now, as a knee jerk reaction to the last 2 years of various Lockdowns and the machinations of COVID-19, isn't as important as what needs to happen in the next 12 months. If by the next Candlemas, in 2023, I am still buzzing around the honey pot of Wetherby then I have clearly failed. This is a focus I am not going to allow to drift into nothingness. *** The end of another working week. Friday. Lola and I will catch the bus away from Wetherby today. It's been around a month, I guess, since last we climbed o...

A wonderful morning with Lola followed by an average few hours surrounded by folks I have nothing in common with... The hours from 4 until 7 were the dullest I have known for a while. It's not them, they always seem content discussing minutiae, but me. I listened to their conversation about watches quite blank of emotions for so long; I had nothing to add to the monologue - discussion - of the other three. I was more interested in the 12 year old mongrel I'd passed on route to the urinal to pass out the chocolate stout and dark mild I didn't want to quaff. Jason was wearing yet more 'boxfresh' attire. That's all he ever seems to do outside of the world he watches on the large screens on the wall. He seemed genuinely shocked I didn't recall that the aliens on Futurama were from Omnicron Persei 8 because I haven't seen an episode since 2007(I think) and it's simply not on my radar now. 15 years ago! A lot has happened since 2007. I've gone mad for ...

Blood and Bottles Stumbling down Woodhouse Lane, a way I never tread, before ten I almost got wrapped beneath the tires if a Porsche Carrera. The chucked bottle I rolled over nearly took me into the carriageway, but I stayed, picked it up, swore and deposited it in the bin alongside Walkabout. Yes, it's Sunday morning! After a malignant Saturday evening, played out on the Leeds streets, I walk passed litter, shattered glass and blood, (which is trying to find a way out). All I can do is swear and then carry on. *** The bus was late, because they are working on the new bypass up on Red Hall hill and the X99 has to detour through Shadwell, so I didn't get up to the allotment until after noon. Then after two more hours I drifted into Wetherby to continue reading the final section of the memoirs I am reading. Mother hadn't moved all day, by the looks of things, when I returned at six: she hadn't even gone to the Morrison's Petrol station to get some bread. It was a nice...

Lola, what a good girl! She stayed in her bed until at least 5, climbed in besides me until 6:30 and waited quite happily for me to prepare her breakfast at 7, once we decamped and meandered downstairs. That dog doesn't mind her own space for 7 hours as long as I am directly alongside her - within touching distance. Mum needs to purchase a futon bed, a 4 foot one, to put in that room so we can always be alongside each other, but she simply won't. *** Reading a fantastic, and fairly comprehensive, summary of Cornwall - Vanishing Cornwall by Daphne du Maurier - in the Mews last night I realized how busy it was in the bar area. At around four thirty I moved out of that space and continued reading further into the restaurant area. It seems that the same dozen or so faces that frequent here every day. These people are fine, but I need so much more! I really need my mother to get a new knee so soon so I can possibly pick up where I left off in February 2020?

Good morning... What am I thinking about? Being good at just one thing... With Lola, snuggled alongside me on the sofa, I know I've become good with her. A pureness reflects in our relationship. Although I don't know what Lola ever is thinking, if she operates like that, there are ways of knowing I am doing well by her. But I am also good at putting one foot in front of the other, but I am also great at pouring one pint after another down my throat without considering the long-term consequences of the dedication. Dedicating this one year, in its many moments, to not putting that erroneous being into action may help me escape the zombiefacation of my soul. But all I want to do now is go - move onwards (being held back for ten years by mental health issues is so futile). And the last two years of being told what to do, constantly, by everyone and everything has destroyed the momentum which was snowballing prior to Lockdown. Walking for charity has ceased. Walking for sanity has v...

I'm laying in a double bed as the day begins below: the bakery is there. Life is truly 24hrs in this auberge: I could smell the dough leavening. People depend on the auberge for miles around. Their bread is great. One day before Saint Jean Pied-de-Port. Breakfast is at 6:30. I'm away by daybreak: 7:18. Quite lovely Piperade last night: I'd forgotten how lovely that sauce can be. Suddenly English voices can be heard. I felt silent for so long. The merging of the paths. But now I feel alienated. So I stop with my nature. No need to struggle against what my head says no to. Saint Jean is where everyone heads to begin their disappearance into Spain. It's a bottleneck. For me it is a battle against apathy. Had some food in a very ostentatious and underwhelming environment. Only €14.50 though including a local Basque cidre. And now I am in the Refuge Municipal €10. Someone left some odour eaters which I find very useful indeed, the toe section of the sandles snapped yesterd...