A rebel without a clue.

When I walk out with Lola it's with an expectation that a truth will be revealed on the, otherwise common, paths. A shared joy of an adventure on ways drawn upon heavily with others preceding track, or away, foreign, from where we're not meant to go: down the edge of hedge and field - without any right of way! There are places I'm sure only her and I have waited together, for a joy to unfold, this year, but then some sign of earlier man erases this dream. Recently it was a cluster of red shotgun cartridges around the decaying trunk of a long dead hawthorn: a death foretold. We often wait together in these other places and I let the sinister spaces, away to the south and west, be somewhere else. To cuddle Lola in these moments is very restful and brings me happiness. And there isn't a moment goes forgotten when I ask for a gentle kiss and there isn't one given. It's a pleasureable feeling knowing what I need, want, desire and looked to for is given without a mom...

Joanna Taoyuan Taiwan Author Bake Been to Seattle, Munich, speaks a little German: pronunciation of München a bit suspect? At around 7 I set off back to the flat... The usual, but ever decreasingly frequented bars. I am less and less inclined by what's around Boar Lane, except Brownhill and Co behind HoF, then it's only North Bar and Belgrave. As I was about to return to the flat, post rain, a 23 year old Taiwanese girl who had come over from Manchester joined me at the bar for a large glass of soda water. We left, her going to the station and I the short walk along Wade Lane, etc. Monday morning and it's pretty mild for the end of October. Soon it's sure to change? November a week tomorrow. Flipping from fucking Halloween to Christmas being shoved down our necks... Over to walk Lola and head to the allotment later if it's sunny?  Mum wants me to help her start cutting back the plants in her garden too. At 4:30 some distant washing machine noise put me in semi sleep...

So four days. Until it began to pour it down just as I stepped out from a Menú del Dia in Restaurant L' Isard, the first cheap 'entire' eat at lunch since June ... No where I've passed was open or offered it at the time suitable. Juneda was a crap town to come to a deserted station in a downpour! It was probably a poor reflection of the place as two younger dodgier individuals lingered next to the tracks with me. Checked into an apartment through Booking.com - cheapest option other than Hotel Goya apart from a couple of room-only Airbnb. Washed clothes and sought a beer. Too expensive really at €5. But it's only a couple. Autumn is here today. Definitely a change and the leaves are falling from the trees dropping like flies.  Coming to Gran's Records as it's a Mecca I suppose after the last few days of Caña Estrella Damn. But the music is dreadful - Spanish rap. On entry it was Elvis Presley on aa Russian pressing spinning on one of the two turntables. It...

Many bites from the mountain (and perhaps from the late lunch and the two beers while I decided whether to eat or sleep. Two savoury local savoury patisserie - spinach and raisin/onions and pimento), and the itching woke me up around four as I feared bedbugs. Luckily the room was clear. Until I checked in around 4 I had no memory of the establishment I left from over a year ago. And even now it's a little hazy... Sat enjoying a coffee while I consider the third stage which takes me back to the Gaia River so I will have zigzagged. Another coffee and a croissant and then away. Across is a supermarket, but the next town isn't so far away. Last time I was passing through, having fallen badly in the Pyrenees, experiencing the various quality ales in Lleida and Montblanc, but not walking and this time stone cold sober heading towards the second and third monasteries before joining the main route West from Girona, etc, but only until Thursday. But it's worth it as I have to return...

End of an endurance sapping day - 40 kilometress from the doorway of the apartment to Santes Creus - there was nowhere to stay in the Abbey/Monastery and the Hostal was firmly locked too. But from the very noisy cathedral to the utter peace of a Eco Campsite: a few kilometres away from Santes Creus, but a helpful Colombian barmaid got a friend to bring me here in a car: I saw a few yellow arrows so I think it's on the route? It's closed after the weekend, but they are happy to have me stay. Gratis, but I said I must pay something as it's a bungalow in the woods and they're giving me supper at eight. They are two old folks and their son will come later to take some money from me? They returned with sheets, cold local spring water and shower gel, but I had a warm, but soap free wash. Now I lay in a bed and count the mosquito bites from the forest between Tarragona and El Catllar. Giants they were landing on my exposed bits! In El Catllar, when Sunday was catching up with ...

The day after the day before. Friday was manic and Nick's still crook. So here's Sunday. I am admiring the view on Nova Rambla - both directions: the balcony over the bay and the chica from Ecuador. In Tarragona the agua mineral Vichy Catalan  has become as obligatory as café solo, a croissant and a pretty girl ... I do wish I could get Nick better as he's intending on returning to the UK via Liverpool this afternoon. Such a shame he's not well. Crowded House comes on the wireless and I hesitate to move onwards from the finesse of this Sunday morning. In the apartment the cathedral bell chimes the hours and quarter intervals and around me clusters flies and pigeons and a cricket buzzes in the corner as a dog barks at the sunshine! Such sunshine. Almost all year round on the Mediterranean. And we have several months of SAD to account for back in Blighty!

Thursday morning. Last evening I used the hours to focus on my breath, and just relax, before a wholesome night's rest: I awoke quite peacefully at 5:45am. Having a bath in the dark and then laying on the bed, in my birthday suit, until the heat of the warm bath had left me and the creep of the coldness of the universe had begun to numb my toes and fingers. Then a glass of ice cold water and bed. I was gone. *** Down to the departure point for the X98 on Boar Lane. Plenty of time to wonder why men put their hands on the 'family jewels' - which is either to keep their hands warm or some anxiety about their manhood being taken away... The bus isn't the new Sky Class item purchased specially for the route. I guess it's broken down already? This is the bog standard Harrogate Bus Company double decker. *** Mum wanted me to cut the grass yesterday, but the grass is so damp I am convinced it will destroy the blades on the mower and with bugger up the autumn grass. I will e...