A rebel without a clue.

7am chimes on the lounge clock and I am sat next to lovely Ruby, again, from where she hasn't moved all night: after our adventure to Hornbeam Park Business Park and back to Wetherby Road in a loop dissected by a brief visit to The Traveller's Rest Inn and a longer stay, during a funeral wake, at Rooster's Taproom(first time visit). Both our bellies are gurgling and Ruby shifts, farts in my face and settles once more until we depart around 7:30am when those damn builders turn their radio on once more. Woke after a peaceful sleep around 5am and that was it... At 2 I sought the toilet and at 4 I told Ruby to stop scratching the seat cover when she was building a nest in her semi-consciousness. But I feel fine regardless of those breaks. I think I slept totally from 9 anyway, having managed only a couple of pages of the new novel I've begun: Aldous Huxley's Time Must Have a Stop , before I was fast asleep. For the first time since Sunday I've had a bath and put on ...

Tuesday's here. 6 days left of being with Ruby up on Chestnut Avenue. She's been up to their bed and now is by my side as I wait a little before leaving with her around 7:30am, when the builders arrive. There appears to be no hot water this morning and after locating the boiler it seems very silent as I run the tap in the garage which is nearby. Sent a message to Maureen and will wash up last night's dishes once it's sorted; or resort to boiling a large pan of cold water on the hob top... Yesterday afternoon I prevaricated a little before catching the X70, through Follifoor, to the Stray for our afternoon walk. I really wanted Lola to have a quiet one after the long one on Sunday so didn't go anywhere near to Braine Road since I returned her around nine. *** Slept well, having had a succession of interesting dreams, until I was finally awake around 5:30am and toileted before opening Ruby's crate for her wriggle cuddle prior to her heading up to snuggle between t...

Instantly those thoughts of suicide came back. The morning I set off for the X98 towards Wetherby and what appears to be the meaninglessness of everything here. I struggle to see any worth in any of the activities I perform? Doing anything at the allotment was hard going. Will try again on Monday? This must be untrue... I let Ruby out of her nighttime crate: where I left her at 8pm, and I sought sanctuary in sleep, she leap out and gave me her wriggling good morning, happy to see you, cuddly thing and then went to find the remainder of her solace up on mummy's bed. For the previous two nights I'd had Lola over too, in my bed here on Chestnut Avenue, keeping me warm and snuggling: but that was on a belly of wine. Try again this evening but on an empty stomach. Yesterday morning we were on the bus by 8am heading for the Show Ground in Harrogate for a nosy around Crimple Beck, up to Hornbeam Park and Hookstone Woods: the closest expanse of parkland this side of Harrogate and only ...

The long journey back to Leeds. I was crawling into bed at 11 o'clock. Is it worth it? The tram journey through rotten at the core Manchester to buzz about Victoria Station and pay too much for the short, overcrowded Transpennine Express... It really isn't Express? Into another city who's core is diseased beyond remedy? Leeds. But I got back in one piece. Just a couple of halves along the mile or so up to Lovell Park Hill. A wash done. No hangover. Hot water for a bath, soak, cleanse, before heading back to Boar Lane to catch the X99 to Westgate, where I will pick up some dog food and milk from Sainsbury's, and the go and connect with all things Wetherby? Was it worth it? The last 15/16 days? Of course. I didn't think of suicide at all and only briefly considered those folks around me who do me no good abs and I ruminate over. Especially Adrian, who I didn't consider once until the morning of Wednesday...

Eight in the morning on the final day of the Chemin/Holiday(hem hem)... I don't enjoy walking 30 plus kilometres a day! It's just something which like any habit I do without considering it? And it brings me momentary relief from the banality of what goes on in England? It's not a holiday! Well I suppose it's a kind of one from the point of view of another who sees any break from monotony as a holiday? But if I had the means (financial) and no responsibilities (Lola, mother and allotment) I'd go for a substantial time: perhaps the whole month it takes to do something like the Camino Frances (even with its crowds)? Truthfully I've spent a little too many weeks in France this year, and my comprehension hasn't increase and my pronunciation is still pas , there are other places I would like to go on the Camino: from where I broke off. Back to Salamanca, Figueira da Foz or Tortosa and these probably should be the future starting points on the goal which would even...

First time for everything: I caught the wrong train... On the wrong platform going north not south, so now I am in Argenton-sur-Creuse again! It could be worse it could be Leeds-upon-Aire? My flight isn't until 1720 tomorrow so I could stay here and head to Limoges tomorrow... Catching the correct train on the correct platform, nah! Hilarious, I got on the wrong train... Fantastic - I am so exhausted, from those dozen or so days, that I didn't register a green screen is arrivals and a blue screen is departures... My bad. Truly I am at the end of my endurance... Setting off from Beauvais with a hangover, leaving Paris with a hangover and walking a few hundred kilometres between Beauvais and La Souterraine and now a coffee in a corner café... What next? I am frazzled and haven't booked anything in Limoges (good job). Perhaps I head there at my leisure and try to stay with the Nuns? Time for 2 coffees and a croissant and to ponder who was is positioned directly beh...

At the end of this Way. This time. Two days and one night remaining so I want to down tools and chill before heading back to Blighty, post-funeral. Last night was a great end with me listening intently to three speaking French and I do believe it was about the price of things: inflation. A very standard conversation for those that do not move... I'll return to the UK, BBC, my mother and all that stuff on Wednesday so I wasn't really listening too intently. The meal was fine. A little bland, but they usually are on the Chemin Saint Jacques: white rice, white cauliflower, white cucumber salad and porc in a jus. But it was the right combination of foods - and it was finished off with a wonderful Compote de pomme. And I slept soundly with a lingering headache from slightly too much distance in the sunshine without a break... Meaning to have a shower I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, when I awoke with a start everyone was also in their beds, so I am not so clean this m...