A rebel without a clue.

And so begins the return process, part two. Walked down to the Cam took the obligatory selfie, returned passed King's College, picked up bread, another coffee and a cinnamon twist and I am now on the - waiting for replacement crew - not delayed but now delayed 9am to Peterborough. Let it go. It's just another part of the Decline and Fall of the British Empire. At 9.09am I am heading home! Peterborough then Doncaster then finally into Leeds, where I arrived around 12noon. And I didn't let it get to me. A couple of halves in FoH and Whitelocks and hung about in Brownhill and Co for a while enjoying the fine quality products Richard always sells: it Leeds's Mecca for good quality beer from all over the world! But it's only beer. And the same is true of the beer they sell in Mews. Life is not beer. Beer is a minor character, a bit player, Tuesday and Wednesday were dominated by beer. So much so mother and I got into our locked horned relationship once more: ...

And it's raining. Points failure on the decrepit railway line. Stansted looked dirty: it reminded me of passing through Mumbai when it was still known as Bombay, and hanging around in the airport a few hours. Bombay airport can't be like Stansted now can it? That was 2001... But this is the UK in 2023 where (apparently) multiculturalism has failed apparently - so says a multicultural the sacked (snigger) Home Secretary? To me it's a land where the rich get richer and the poor are marginalised, regardless of ethnicity? What would England be like without the choice of food outlets catering to every whim? Probably a lot like most of Europe... Dominated by a lot of bad local cuisine (as opposed to bad kebab shops)? The world is one in its multicoloured, multicultural, multi-ethnic diversity. Perhaps leaders have failed in this Western democracy as they look to blame everything but themselves for the running down of England? No wonder Scotland desires it's freedom to self de...

Well it was for a lot of the way! Behind me the moon and Venus as companions and Jupiter to the west, but obviously I was walking south to Cabo do Fisterra. After almost falling completely down a flight of marble steps, which I had failed to recall coming to the communal area, I sighed, straightened up, put my boots on and went up and over to the same spot I reached in June 2013: where there was much detritus of the end of the way (as there was ten years ago). A long bus journey, along the glorious coastline, before heading up to the hinterland beyond Noia. Popping into Rúa Nova 7 to touch base an O Camiño celebrity, if you will? Ivar, the guy behind the excellent Camino Forum, who was sat tracking the cosmic alignments of all things relating to Santiago, was there. I recall fondly his YouTube moments during COVID times: when it was only him and Santiago, and a world of pilgrims praying for release... The sun is beginning to fall on me outside Sindueña craft beer bar (36 Rúa Nova )as i...

Randomly weeping again - O Camiño - Just as I was finishing a fantastic lunch (Liresca Restaurante) when I got all emotional about seeing my girl again shortly! While talking to a younger Canadian who I was explaining Albert/Vimy Ridge... Which is also very emotional? Being away so long, with only those days between - looking after Archie - is the longest she's not been right at the top of my agenda all the time. She's the best thing that every happened to me. She had a operation to remove a benign cyst, off her chest and her right thigh, when I initially travelled to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port. So she was in 'recovery mode' when I returned and had Archie to do sit for (but we did do a fairly large one, the day before I left to return to León, up on Wetherby Racecourse). But shortly I'll be staring deeply into those beautiful brown eyes: full of pure love, innocence, free of judgement or malice, but with perhaps just a twinkling of cunning whenever she smel...

Even in this moment I can't step back and relax: why am anxious in the rain? I am fully protected wearing waterproof trousers and the aging Páramo coat, and I've the backpack covered. For combustibles I've a pocket full of cooked chestnuts (the ones I picked on the way to Samos).l All my clothes are laundered, but the underpants (bamboo) are not so quick drying! So one pair is on damp and the remainder in a plastic bag for the next chance to dry: wherever today ends. Weary. Albergue Bela Muxía was clean and quiet, but I can't stand those disposable bedding sets: they make me sweaty in bed: I like to be frigid in bed. It was still value for money as the staff were smiley and helpful(€16). Trying to wait for sunrise before doing another days walking: there is a very refreshing fuente below Igrexa de Santa Maria which I want to replenish my flask with. All that anxiety. It's just weariness. There is always one cafe opening by 7am somewhere in the universe? O Xardín caf...

Coming down off the eucalyptus plantations I saw two peregrinos returning home the old way! One solo, to Italy, on the Camino del Norte and another with his dog (he wasn't conversational), but it was lovely to see their dedication... Then on the final few kilometres the old war wound was making its presence felt - shooting left foot pain - so I slowed down... Then I saw a Jay playing amongst the wood shavings so my mind went elsewhere for a moment: charming to see. *** After I'd checked into the Last Stamp hostel (top floor private €38 - very low ceiling, but a comfortable double bed) I went and ate caldo and chipirones accompanied by a couple of glasses of local vino(Rias Baixas and Rebeiro Sacra) in La Tita (a very popular, but small, eatery) then sought beer. A couple of Imperial Stouts later I was weeping at the futility of O Camiño. *** On only two occasions was I approached by people to beg money from me. Once, outside the cathedral, and just now in the bus st...

There are too many James's! I should know which Iacobus I am walking over these leaf strewn paths towards? It's James Zebedee bouncing on his joyous spring through the woods, still in the mist... It's not James the Just. So many ghosts in my mind pulling and pushing me away from the clarity which is always present. Prejudice is one such conceit. I simply want to let them be, but something projects all my hatreds onto something I have created: these images are pictures I have made to imprison my mind. Part of the walking was always to kill this irritating being totally. I get overtaken by it in so many instances.