A rebel without a clue.

It's true: I've been walking 10 years, almost constantly, with Lola and long distances between them. Yesterday I felt that's enough of this blasted nothingness, but a good night's sleep has resurrected me and I continue on to Burgos. Day ten and life stories poured out as John, the Kiwi, gave me his and his wife's (who is literally a Dame and four times Open squash champion: Susan Devoy). Then I poured out all my pain of the previous 20+ years, since JWBS demise, which brought me to the  brick wall which is Camino ... And then it brought forth a sob or two. End of day ten, at the second calling, San Juan was a terrible nothing and the albergue was a parroquial which charges (because it hadn't been a part of the church for ten years and is privado) so I couldn't pay! The awesome chica(Annette) from Austin Texas said she'd pay: which was lovely, but I couldn't stay after I saw a pizza disappear from the first bar for 100 metres before being...

Cock-a-doodle-fucking-doo at 3am! I ask you! And the church bells too. It was a good albergue, but you can't chose what is around you? Feeling a little fragile so far this morning: there are some snoring and a lot of coming and going in the night. I am such a sensitive sleeper... already to bolt! Fight or flight at the ready. It must be hereditary shell sock? And I've begun to lose count of the days since I left Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port that fateful day! ... Is this it? My final day on the Camino? I can't see the purpose of the way anymore. I am definitely looking for something which I no longer need. Ten years older and a little wiser. Walking up alongside the road, two days prior to Burgos... I just don't know. I can walk forever but the shadow still follows me. But I am trying to walk for Leeds Mind also ... Two more days is fine. Tonight I am doing nothing related to the social element of the Camino Frances. It's not the purpose of my existence. Neither is averag...

The day is ending and the Cane Corso is laying by his master's feet. He's five and tired. But knowing Lola he's probably had a grand experience with all those other smells, noises and sights? I saw him yesterday and then this lunchtime. So I had a plate of Bolognese, but I had to ask for a spoon and some cheese(parmesan wasn't possible). My stomach is full so it's time to retire. I didn't shower today as I sat on the edge of the square beside the albergue watching the pilgrims stumble into town one at a time and couldn't be arsed to be clean... Café Espolón. The guy (Andalusian) with the 6 dogs, who I saw earlier, also passed along the street and I said hello to those fine guys - we're friends I feel as he said I have good energy and the Carne Corso thinks I am fine too.

Not one person said good morning this morning, except the Spanish gentleman from Galicia. The remainder looked like their faces were by their boots. It's a difficult walk. I know. They're struggling with conflicting emotions. The young men are trying to get their legs over with the various chica who they circle around like the flies who crawled over me yesterday or around a freshly presented shit. There is a war arising in the middle east once more betwixt the greedy Israeli's and the increasingly marginalised Palestinians - oh boy! Who provoked who ... it's a chicken and egg scenario which the victors in ww1 set evolving into its current nonsense. So I stopped in Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Grañon has mats for beds and it has no credential sello. I rocked up with Robbie from Glasgow and Michael with no Brummie accent from Birmingham. My bed is on the second floor in room 2 and is 2002 ... I like the vibe.

Pretty tough day. Relentlessly straightforward and by the afternoon the sun is unbearable, but I managed two bunches of naturally dried bunches of tempranillo grapes that hadn't been taken to make Rioja and I brought plenty of food at the café by the church in Navarrete. It was important to spend an hour there before the long 17kms section. The bottom of the water container was warm by the last swig. A few of the other pilgrims are passing me looking bloody exhausted too, but the kitchen is closed... Nájera. So I wandered to the monastery, where the way passes tomorrow, and called in for tapas at Bar Talisman. It's all pretty uninspiring, but I am wearing fresh knickers! What is it about?

Getting to Logroño I thought great then after a couple of hours surrounded by people I just felt meh. That's the hope I put where I never find it. A huge river passes towards the Mediterranean from here - La Ebro - but today we're following the N12. Meh! The couple of French retirees I have seen since Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port are bakers!  They were very excited to reach the panaderia along the Camino as one of the bakers is from France. The croissant was good! And now I am walking the day I don't want to walk - truly I am insane! The two brightest stars, alongside the disappearing moon, are Venus and Jupiter. Jupiter is the star in the west. Second donativo since Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port last night, but they couldn't provide a sello as the priest had died. Luckily I got one on the bridge before crossing the Ebro

Two good Germans going the other way, Logroño to Pamplona, shared a slice of Domino's pizza. There were three slices left! That's the trinity in a pizza box? It was cold from last night - I prefer pizza the day after or cold so it was manna from heaven? Here in Logroño enjoying a glass of white Rioja in the capital of that DOC opposite the cathedral and reading the end of By An Unknown Disciple. A weariness is upon me. I must retreat to the albergue. Perhaps it's the heat of the afternoons since I left France? Maybe it's because I am without spirit and yearn to touch it as I once did?