The story of Hedge - an excerpt from TTC - chapter 43 as TTC arrives in St Juan de Ortega

Having climbed the Oca hills, walked across the vast deforested plateau, Declan and Tommy sallied down the hill out of the forest and past the sunflowers. Their first sighting of San Juan de Ortega was brief. As they strolled round a corner the church tower held a lofty point on the horizon, but not as lofty as the crane behind it. They both disappeared just as quickly as the foliage thickened around the pilgrims before re-appearing much more in focus.

"Roof repairs" said Tommy. "Church and crane are rarely separated on the camino, and I dont mean the nesting storks"

"Yeah, in Ireland its church and state, but here there's a crane on every corner" replied Declan.

The path led past the hostal, with a sign advising you to book your room in the bar. Declan and Tommy had other thoughts. They strolled purposely past the many resting pilgrims, nodding, smiling and uttering the well aired, "Buen Camino" before entering the San juan bar.

"Dos vino tinto por favor" said Declan, "and olives, y aceitunas, por favor." Pilgrims stuttering into Spanish was a rare treat for the hopitalero, "aceitunas!" he replied as he raised a weary smile.

"So Declan, why the 'Hedge'? " said Tommy as the barman poured the vino tinto into tumbler glasses.

"Its a long story but I was a student in your neck of the woods and I drunk a lot. I got pissed one night in the wee red bar and stumbled off home on my own. I wish I had made it on my own but I picked up a branch or two on the way."

"Ah! We used to drink milk out of these when i went to school" said Tommy signing as he glugged his wine "so that's why you're called the Hedge"

"I wish!" replied the Hedge as he lifted the olives and his wine and headed outdoors, "...It was even simpler. I woke up with all this foliage in my bed and I had a thought. It's not the most unique thought but it was my 1981 honours thought.

"Next thing I know I'm a hedgie'lante. I retraced my steps as I wanted to know how I'd got home and it wasn't that difficult. I'd come home my usual way but instead of walking into the street to get past the hedges, I must have fought my way along the pavement. There was one hedge on the corner of Findhorn place I must've tried to sleep under and then another very close to home in Cobden crescent. I'd clearly got the huff with these hedges as I'd bent, snapped and tucked the branches back into the gardens from whence they came. Quite a tidy drunk."

"so you're a tree hugger or is it tree mugger, then?" Laughed Tommy as he leaned back and admired the small square in front of the church.

The pilgrims were lounging around largely in the shade, exchanging stories, updating fellow pilgrims on the whereabouts of the many cherished characters. Some were visiting the church to light a candle, others filled their water bottles and moved on towards Ahes, Atapuerca Cardenuela and Burgos. Tommy smiled with the sunshine and his sweet surroundings as the Hedge carried on his story.

"So, I had this idea. If me, a guy with eyes got all scratched up by these hedges, albeit, I was blind drunk, I thought how hard is it for the blind folk. The Blind school is just around the corner and all these people were ignoring their civic duty. I was 20, I had a cause. Free Edinburgh blind folk, let them walk the streets of their neighbourhood. That was me. I got a pair of secateurs and on the way home every night, I'd cut chunks out of hedges. I take a strip and cut it back two feet until it was at the wall. It looked like the hedges of Edinburgh's salubrious south side had developed alopecia.

"You'd be a popular guy" bellowed Tommy as the wine loosened his vocal chords.

"Oh yeah, with the gardeners maybe, not the owners. They were being called out regularly to tidy up after me!"

"Hedge, you're brilliant." Tommy continued leaning back on his chair, munching an olive and draining his glass, then bouncing to his feet.  "More vino," he paused, "... you know,  I'm thinking back now and there was the guy in the hedge. I remember dropping a car off in Minto Street and seeing some weird topiary. We called it the guy in the hedge. Did you ever do any there?"

"Oh yeah! That was the one that really pushed me on for my degree show. I stood on the wall, cut my self into the hedge and when I emerged it looked good but I couldn't really tell as it was dark. The next day I was all hyped up and I fell out of bed at 8 and had a look. It was brilliant. It was a guy doing a star jump and that was me. I took pictures of it from all angles. I even got on a bus to get the aerial vista. From that moment on, I stopped giving the hedges unruly haircuts and became a hedge'lante. Using the light and shade of the depth, I started looking all round town for hedges I could work on. The coolest ones were when I could do the tops so that you only got the message if you were on the top deck of the bus. The bus thing was really important to me. Only the prols take the bus, and my art was definitely for the prols"

"Its all coming back now I really do remember this now. You made the news didn't you? You were surely the tree huggers Banksy." The barman approached to take Tommy's glass and with a gracious smile he uttered the pilgrims mantra. "Dos Vino por favor, that was lucky eh, saved me walking any further. These guys know its a good 12km stretch from Montes de Oca and really look after you."

"Yeah, all across the camino they just read your mind big man!" Laughed Declan. "I think I beat Banksy, but yeah, same idea. I loved it. My imagination was fired and it started a craze for a few months. Unfortunately any hedge'lante is only able to work during the growing season. As soon as the autumn cut is made the gardeners have got me stumped. I became very rubinesque in the height of summer as my creations looked like they were getting chemo only a week after I'd cut them. The growth in July usually covered my work within 5 days. I really got into it"

"Hi guys, have you seen Danny the crazy Dutchman?" asked Sophie as she dragged a chair out to join the boys.

"Yeah, just 2 minutes ago" replied Tommy, "I gave him a wee wave as he was filling his bottle up. He had that determined look. Head down, find albergue and hit the mattresses by four. I'm guessing he'll be stopping at Ahes, its about 50 minutes, or 40 the way he walks. No sign of his injured toe now, he's back to speeding past us wee jakeys."

"We'll probably head down to Ahes as well, but we're waiting on Jose and Harry, Tommy's pals." added the Hedge.

"Cool, I'll have a drink here, then catch Danny in Ahes. He's a good guy, a bit crazy, but carrying my sleeping bag so I love him. Is the vino any good?"

The first hour

It is well known in camino circles that wandering around in the dark for the first hour proves irrefutably that eating carrots does not give you night vision. The number of casualties also proves that the darkest hour is indeed just before dawn. So why?..., I have often asked, do our michelin guides regale us with tales of early morning trenchfoot as another water filled crevice is stepped into,  a ploughed up field is mistakenly taken for the path or the albergue swimming pool is full of splashing as pellegrinos pop their toes in at 5.55am.

I have often given accounts to pilgrims of the hours of practice people preparing for the camino will indulge in while dodging dangerously around darkened living rooms lit only by the tiniest pop up torch. These slender beams of laser light that can pierce the eyes of the sleeping souls in the albergues who consider 6am a time to be farting and snoring as opposed to rustling plastic bags while impersonating POW camp guards as they send their shafts of light from bunk to bunk. I would've suggested simply camp guards, but I dont wish to create an image of flouncing as these beams dont flounce. They are direct and as noisy visually as the crackling of the bags are on the hearing as they are crumpled into the corners of the voluminous valises known locally as backpacks.

It is the part nobody prepares for at home. Packing in the dark. You hope that these early risers will walk a bit further than you, but no, they stop earlier so when you roll in at 4pm they advise you on which albergues are available. You try to ignore them and walk on in the hope of some longer lies, before conceding defeat and booking into the Monasterio. Let's face it, the luxury is worth it. Albergues are cheap, but the sleep is not. Sleep costs money.

But back to the darkened living rooms. Yes preparing.  They walk around their furniture for hours on end getting used to the bumps on the knees from hitting the corners of televisions and tables, but I can assure you all, there are no tv's on the camino. There are plenty of trees, holes in the pavement, puddles and quagmire, but how many people have those in their living room. Not many, that's what I say, not many, and none are doing the camino. So prepare for the camino by learning Spanish, but dont get up at 3am and stumble around your flat in the dark. Give thanks for electricity, flick the light switch, give a nod of gratitude that you still have your sight and promise to yourself you wont leave the albergue until daybreak.

I wrote a song called, "In the first hour". Simple repetitive number, it starts in E and is about as rowdy as Otis Redding's "Dock of the Bay". As you mumble "in the first..." you stumble from E to A and then you wander back down to E as you sing I saw a ....(then back up to A) ....shower", then back to E, up to C, B and then high E.....and then repeat using as many different rhymes as you can think off over the next hour.

You could have for example

In the first hour
I saw a soldier
C                       c         B                E
I saw a soul where, no soldier could exist

In the first hour
I saw a shower
I saw a shower as I lay in my pit  (ha ha, Ha Ha....in the style of Alex Harvey S.A.H.B in Delilah)

Its important also to have the mad psychotic eyes of the pelegrinos who has been woken up by the laser lights only 2 hours earlier and never really got back to sleep....but can turn it into song to cheer his poor temper...

In the first hour
I saw a laser
I saw a laser while I tried to sleep

It lit up the room,well,
And I shouted effin ell
But the beam pierced away till I did weep

It was their first hour
It gave them a power
A power that is given to sheep

Soon rustling bags came
Disturbing's their main game
Then they leave and its calm once again

Except for the snoring
.....

You get the idea....before you know it, you've walked 5-6km and you are wide awake and chirpy.

Happy Birthday Caitlin Linda Margaret McEwan

Happy Birthday for you too

The NY timeline makes you 22

Its taken a while

To get that last mile

Now lets party at yer chuckety do

Now chuckety aint really a word

But its rhythm is like that of a bird

One with no wings

That tortuously sings

In a style that is abysmally absurd

It sings in the key of B-flat

Until the cat drags it onto the mat

With no wings it cant fly

So puir wee birdie must lie

Its not a bird but a baby cat

So the cat smiles and says hello

Its jaws relax and do let the bird go

They chat for some time

About a nickel and dime

And the owl pissed off to a show

Now I interject with a timely boast

As my egg is ready to place on the toast

The yolk it is runny

So I thought it quite funny

That the white looks like its seen a ghost

So what has all this got to do

With the fact that you're now 22

I just wanted to say

A big Happy Birthday

and as usual I've no effin clue

Love you too

Mum & Dad xxx

Afternoon shadows

Later after the cola cao and another 10km you notice the sunburn on your left side. You are free of such nonsense on your right side, unless you walk backwards. When i say backwards, i mean it literally. From santiago backwards towards st gien, but you walk forwards. If you walk with your back to the path, well you wont get sunburn, you'll fall over. This place is a death trap when you are looking. Blindfold, its basic stupidity....

Long shadows

The definitive picture from the camino concerns the shadow the pilgrims cast on the horizon. Early in the morning the darkness shields the shadow for those sharp dressers who with wing lights illumanating their path can  seamlessly stroll stumbling in a straight line. This is clearly not for me. I wait until the shadow is ahead of me. It is the starters pistol shot, the hooter; the klaxon; the signal to commence movement. I see my hat 40 metres ahead and i try to catch it.

I walk this way for 2 hours until the sun adjusts and my shadow shrinks and slides to the right. That's usually cola cao time. If its October it is also the moment I disrobe. My body warmed by the 10km I can dispense with my warm up top and bottoms. Well, after the cafe I will....

Another great gang of pilgrims

Don from near Bedford Massachusetts shows some fingers and then there's the lovely lady from Croatia, Louise the stonner from County Clare shows her 4 digit hands, Ivan & Irene from Oz, Gordon the marathon runner from Hampshire and Karina....Don and I didnt want a compostela to prove we'd walked it, ...until.....we found out it was the 800th anniversary of St Francis of Assisi's camino and consequently a rarely produced centenary edition was available.....well ok then said we....turn left to Cathedral turn right to Monasterio for rare compostela!

The ball arrives

Santiago on a sunny saturday - the ball has arrived. It has been kicked, dribbled and then rolled into rivers...retrieved and then kicked again

Santiago - the ball arrives

It was a long journey and no shortage of bad control. Rescued from a river and out of many a dutch the ball finally hit the streets of Santiago de Compostela.

When I was wee i was guilty of dribbling head down and not passing enough. On the camino i couldnt pass it fast enough. Going through Ciruena with Ozzie Murray we battered the ball up through the deserted streets of this amazing Spanish ghost town. Its just 8km after azofra one of my favourite towns and its about day 7/8/9 depending how fast you were going. I started at logrono so it was only day 2. I'd met Henk from ghent and Rosvita from Gothenburg the evening before. I never saw Rosvita again until Santiago but i was lucky enough to bump into Murray & Henk at various stages. These guys were morning people....out at 7am ...night lights burning bright....while sleepy fat Al would usually leave at 8:45... I would say cheerio....but somehow i would finish at 7pm on a day thry cut short and lo behold our paths crossed again. I was just wondering who to share the two beers I'd bought in O'Cebreiro when Murray traipsed into the albergue. A long slow day for him was unusual....but he had started at Le Puy so he was long enough in the tooth to make his own rules for walking. Later that night after dinner with Dave from Beijing.....i got caught out by the oldest bit of western stupidity....peking...ooops...sorry...yes i know, it has always been Beijing...i will stop digging......but it was another great night of international diplomacy. Dont visit other countries .....just talk to people on the camino....they live in their own country and you are invited into their world and perceptions....its priceless....but before I forget who walks in but Russ who I'd got pissed with at the edge of town albergue at templarios. Superb night. RUSS had just done one of the longest days i'd heard of. Ponferrade to O'Cebreiro. We were onto our fourth beer when the restaurant owner at Venta Celta reminded us the dorms close at 10pm.

A quick stumble along badly lit streets with flagstones raised just enough to trip you every second step ensured ny blood stained feet made it safely to the Albergue.

Where above me in the bunk was Henk from Ghent the Genk supporter. Small world.

We had all worked out that get to Triacastela for a bit of lunch then take the high road over san xil to Sarria. The trick was how long a lunch you had.

I found out later they all hit triacastela at 11...i arrived 12:30 as smug as a smug thing for my long lie. I met Fiona who i hadnt seen since sinking a few in el acebo and ponferrade. In fact Ponferrade was another story altogether. After siesta just before midnight we found a bar playing "i'm all kost in the supermarket" . It git very messy but back to Triacastele where we had a bit of lunch, some wine, Fiona left then i had a wee beer to get me on my way at 2:15. From 4pm when we met up again for a beer....it all gets messy. Stopping for beer is fine but in the afternoon with good company....you drink slower. Fiona wisely stopped 7km out and I arrived in Sarria at 7pm....a seething mass of sweaty sloth. One wash later its tapas time!

El camino esta completo

So now its time to check out the levante way from alicante

Ticky tacky

€40 gear!

Group shot as Swiss Stud Claudio hits on the stonner fi County Clare

Or was Louisa hitting on Claudio?! Later on the dance floor ....we learn...what happens on camino stays on camino but they were bustin shapes and then with that Argentinian fandango tango....well....the dance floor stopped to watch!! These young singletons eh!  or is it the old pervs hanging round to watch. I lost my glasses in the melee....

Karina signs the ball Claudio shows his swiss steel

Party night in santiago. Friday is party night..but so is every day.

Friday night swingers

Its incense not insest....

Hotel in santiago de compostela

I will only hear praise for my €27,50  twin room between asissi and the cathedral. Pico menor or paco manor...this is no faulty tower.
Really happy. Easy to find after night club finishes at 3am. Down to cathedral turn right...

Not all good deeds work

I am known on the camino as the wasp whisperer. I usher them away knowing they are safer in abstinence.
Anyway, regrettably I failed this wasp.

It went back and fell in my lager. I was gutted. It was convulsing, as Bill from California is my witness I fished the wasp out with a fork. I flicked the puir wee wretch upright and all looked good. It fluttered a wing and was trying to get the other one going.

Personally i think it was pissed. Anyway in the distance we heard an engine roar. Then we heard it louder. I looked at the wasp. The middle of the road seemed a safe place to be....until the van swerved to avoid a pellegrino.

It felt so surreal to rescue one of the skinheads of the insect community only to see it flattened by goodyear. Or not a good year for the wasp....

A pilgrim short cut outside a lavacolla

It takes 20m off the road journey....proper corner cutting....you need it as a big hill is next.....before a bar appears like a phoenix out of your breathless carcass

Edge of town

Just seen the 5km to cathedral sign

I have arrived

Santiago....

Shower in salceda

€30 for my ensuite room....12 for the albergue. It is hard to arfue or rvrb argue....
My room is happy.  I am happy
Update tomorrow on my happiness!
27km to go

Bridge of the 6th sense

I say this because in 2011 when walking with Harry i decided on this bridge that you had to trust your 6th sense....your intuition....as i came down into the forest i remembered and thought ....this is where that bridge is.....spooky eh....its where Harry bumped into dennis K1 blanchard again 2 weeks after meeting them in the doctors surgery at Azofra

MARGARET'S STONE

It gets me every camino!

Cows

It was going to be titled cows in field facing opposite directions....but cows seemed to work better leaving the viewer some leeway to proffer a view

The chop is tasty too!!

Yum yum

Plenty of pilgrims

On the route camino americano!! To be fair lots of spanish do the 1 day version too. A day trip on the camino is a great day out..

Eirexe to brea....its getting busy

Only a week ago there were no people to be seen until town....now....they're everywhere!

Lentejas

Just after palas del rei finishes and before the climb back up through the forest....this cafe saved me....no soup but it might as well be...yum yum....the thing about Palas del Rei is that you are through it before you know it and then you slide from one side of the huge main road to the other as you walk down the hill out of town.

The big hostal at the bottom of the hill has a beautiful woman in it who served me a fantastic meal, despite me taking my boots of and giving the place the smell even a blue cheese cant deliver. It was abundantly clear I needed to take my boots outside but even there, they could still deliver an aroma to defy the Gods. Oh, happy are the cheese makers, they're making it past St Peter now.....

The climb out through the forest involves crossing the main road again. There's an opportunity to take the wrong path as well but after consultation with the many muddy footprints, I decided the evidence suggested as many people walked back from the path on the right as continued so I took a left and ended up down the hill crossing the main road and walking on to a host of fantastic wee albergues. This stretch involved me having a beer every 20 minutes. The walk was great. Passing two pueblos, where the two private albergues looked superb, I persevered for another hour until  the third pueblo, Casanova, that had the public albergue. Its very much your luck. There were 23 the night I stayed and yet their calendar suggested that there were as many days with 3 staying as 23. On a night with only 3-5 it would be superb. I found out later that Louise the 'stonner' from County Clare had been there the night before I stayed. The night I stayed I had Claudio from Switzerland below me and he was a worried guy. My 16 stone might be an improvement for me but all he could see was 100kg+ falling from a meter above him to crush him through the night. Every time I laughed the mattress sagged and looked like I'd be crushing him. Great place to practice football but best to arrive here early. If there is nobody about, its a quiet retreat, if its already got 8-10 walk on. Its only 1-2 hours until a lot of choice.

I let this specimen by

No point having a horse up yer arse...

Portomarin best restaurant

Albergue good too

Pilgrims paradise of portomarin pine

No better a surface than the pine needles

A colourful start

Leaving the sights of portomarin and following the smells of the beast....priceless

Lunch at O'Cebreiro

I forgot to share this one. I had to sit on this side of the restaurant as it was slightly shadier facing north. I am no geographer....but i guess 40 miles north is the Picos and then the Atlantic....

No house now eh?

Although the river could do with some underwater light....the moon doesnt quite work for a camera with such a bad shutter speed!!

Oh aye...and the shaky hand

The river view - as you can see is spoilt by a house

Unless you get invited there for your meal....in which case the view is quite remarkable.....however....i wasnt!

My favourite fat Al picture

Please bury me with it.....i want to be a glass sarcophogus that people tap on their way to santiago....and leave lager at the side of....

Dave smiles while Murray signs the ball

No bald patch there then....eh? Big happy memories in the venta celta @ O'Cebreiro. Best meal in town. Afterwards we met Russ. Jessica had gone home so Russ fueled by some fine Galician beer was flying. He did Ponferrade to the big O. The distance of 50km is staggering but most people do the 7km climb to O'Cebreiro in 4hours.....so hats off. Brilliant chat as ever....the camino has the finest specimens of our global society....as a species...as my dad would say....we need to support and encourage it...you never know it might be the start of a global revolution!
Aye - and cerdo asado may fly!!
Great meal tonight in portomarin. Its the first bar you see at the top of the steps....turn left. Food incredible and the pilgrim menu is no longer dull....views of the river.. ..si and i  lunched in 2007 here after walking from Sarria...lunch was so good we walked to palas del rei by 7pm. So i am thinking 5 hours to palas and then another 3 to melide....we will see...light is now 8:30 so you need to batter through the morning at times and as we pass the 100km markers i am notorious for drifting into a surreal underworld....

And after the 600m walk up past the hens you reach the bridge....and join your fellow pilgrims....they ask how did you get all that food....you say i stopped at the supermarket....thery say we never passed one....you say...help yourself....santiago provides

Coolio

And after the 600m walk up past the hens you reach the bridge....and join your fellow pilgrims....they ask how did you get all that food....you say i stopped at the supermarket....thery say we never passed one....you say...help yourself....Santiago provides....and frequently you find Santiago does provide.

Sarria, Camino de Santiago, Another pilgrim

The old route which follows the main calle and does not need you to climb and fall. The route is simple at dp cristal pub and pension c tinue up the main street towards the railway and bus stations....then turn left as per route camino santiago for cars....then turn right and you will see the arrow. It saves 1km and also the big ascent and descent....check your guide if you dont believe me...also the pavement pilgrum slabs are beautiful.....it makes a change to go the route past all the real shops and not the ticky tacky ones.

Another bag dropped

And today i am on coffee again. I reckon i cant drink much coffee these days. My guts were awful in rabanal and it was a mix of loads of drink in leon and a long stretch up the rabanal in the rain....preceeded by loads of coffee at breakfast and concluded wuth no coffee for three days. Guts were fine for drinking in 24 hours and acidic stuff like tomatoes and spicy chorizo were 48....its a laundry day today so my big shift in getting to sarria last night has been replaced with massage at 11. Ticky tacky shops at 12. Coffee at 1 & bus at 2pm....well 2.11pm. Unfortunately bus doesnt go near camino so its portomarin or nothing. This is a good stretch so gutted to miss it. Tomorrow's is cool to going to a place called Eirexe for lunch and then somewhere past palas del rei for sleep.

Murray finally signs ball in venta celta o'cebreiro

A fine specimen indeed!

Views approaching triacastela

Sunny day helps!

Another favourite bar in Sarria

And at €25 for a twin room its smile all round. Check noon and afternoon stroll to portomarin. Chilled!

Fwd: I will bever tire of free food

Subject: I will never tire of free food

Feet well tired

Leaving Leon - an excerpt from Tommy Turns Car by Josephine Archer

Bill looked at Jim, crumpling under his Leon legacy. His face was red from the sun but it looked like his purple nose was casting its fruity shadow over his sundried face, until the black seeds of his eyes. He looked like he'd been in the mortuary two hours ago and the prunes they'd placed over his eyes had left their wrinkling residue.

"This town is a shit heap" said Jim as they stomped out through busy streets, then quiet flyovers, then busy streets. "This is the fag end of your magnificent capitalism, it was the unwritten rule, jobs for life became jobs for five years and then brick it all up, leave a heap of shite."

Buenos dias, mi amigo, who feels good today then?" replied Bill still savouring his last tapa from La Trebede, the last bar of the evening but comfortably the best. They had strolled out of the Posada Regia Leon and catching sight of a bar called Ginger' they had navigated successfully down the street, weaving from Bar Madrid, to Mona Lisa and many more before finishing in the early hours at La Trebede.

"We had to be a more flexible workforce responding to the whims of fashion. Retraining and reinventing ourselves. That's why you get ghettoes like this. The jobs arrive and five years later the grants are gone and the company fucks off leaving unemployment and a bunch of skills nobody needs" ranted Jim as he crushed every piece of concrete under his boot, and any insects foolish enough to wander through his camino.

"My favourite tapa of the evening was probably the big slice of tostada with morcilla in Mona Lisa but to be fair, the paella in Bar Madrid wasnae too shabby either." Bill continued. "But the ambience and the variety of tapa at La Trebede, was second to none.

"In the 50's, the automobile industry did this with the car putting wings or fins, bumpers and shiny bits but the 80's version did it with people. They started bending people into shapes. Its a fucking disgrace and, ah, ya bastard. These fucking pavements with their big cracks and stupid lips that you trip on." exclaimed Jim as he continued crashing his boots into all comers while wildly waving his walking poles as they searched for a solid surface. "Sustainability was a catchword for complacency. A lack of ambition. Ambition to create something that would last was replaced in the dictionary by something that could be quaffed. Simply consume it, dont construct it. Chocolate fucking fire guards. The UK led the way, while the northern Europeans were maximising the benefits from sexual equality the real enemy of women in the UK board room was that they didn't have balls. No cock meant no lap dancing. The business was concluded in clubs. No longer private gentlemens clubs at lunch or over bridge the 80s was about cutting deals to get the max out before moving on to a competitor. Max out - move on. Momo. Leaving the SAD people stay and develop to wither in poverty on the vine"

"Hold on, I'm just getting this photo. Do you see that statue of St Jacques? How cool is that? And I do like the hobbit houses, these bodegas cut in the hill side. I could well imagine myself staying in one for a long evening, emerging at sun up to continue the camino or if it was chucking it down like today, going back in for more!" said Bill happily smiling at his friend's furnace.

"I said, leaving the SAD people, those who would stay and develop to wither impoverished on the abused vine. By 2000 Rome was burning. Consumer driven momos were populating every board room with the same mantra. What will sell. Not what is a profitable and sustainable model."

"Ah, but not all vines have been abused. Have you tried the wines of Leon? Last night that's what we had with the Morcilla. A bit harsher but it works depending on the tapa. To be fair I ask the barman to choose the wine and tapa, it was easier and they always knew what worked well. The albarinho with the seafood paella was superb."

"The business schools taught their business but the world had moved on. Now look at us. The biggest industry is entertainment. Its mobile apps and games. Its sport stars and franchises. It talking your national sport and putting it in another continent to bleed them dry. Its about sport for stars and obesity for amateurs. We fund excellence not participation. Look at the Swedes, look what Petra was saying last night and Marguerite. They might not have top class sports stars but they do have the best child participation levels." Jim spat every word as if his words could counter the cascading rain as it accelerated down from the sky above.

"For once, mi amigo, you have stumbled into a rant I like. I do agree with Petra. I agreed with everything she said last night, up until she kissed me good night and said 'sleep well'. She gave me a massive hug and I thought she was staying to the end. They really are slagged for being boring but all that stuff last night made perfect sense, especially the bus to Astorga! Do you think we could maybe change attack and get on a villamdangos. They said buses were every hour and let's face it, we've now walked 5km, that's usually our lot"

They had passed the bodegas and were back alongside motorway and wet spray. Jim's hangover had started to subside. He was looking around and drinking from his bottle. He saw his friend's smile. His pack felt lighter, his mind was nearly empty, but there was once last thing he remembered from Marguerite & Petra. "They are on the 11:30 to hospital de orbigo, what time is it?"

"Mi amigo it is 11:05 according to that big clock there. The one that flashes 13 degrees and cold and is next to the bus stop. What say we wander over and check it is our bus stop"

They stood next to the bus stop and could decipher nothing. The cafe was a few yards away and Bill blazed the trail. He threw his pack off and asked, "Dos vinos tintos por favor. Autobus to Astorga aqui?

"No" replied the bar tender as he pointed another 50 metres up the street, where a small number of people were gathered in ill fitting ponchos and back packs. "Cinquante metros"

"gracias" said Bill as he necked the two wines and handed over the two euros.

"You really are ambidextrous" said Jim as he felt some light invading his long dark drink damaged tunnel

Albergue Hogar del Perregrino - Itero de la Vega

Numero une, La premero Albergue Hogar. It was you get to Castrojeriz and can make the 3 hour walk in the afternoon the views are superb as you cross over the unscathed landscape. You can see 50-80 miles north to the Picos and its breathtaking. If you only have one weekend from Edinburgh. Fly to santander, connect with bus to Burgos, connect with Burgos to Castrojeriz. Walk over the hill, stay here, walk the canal to Fromista, then get the train back to Burgos!!

Football signed at Rabe

But it looked so good. The sky was clear but you never can tell on the meseta. The wind was blowing 60mph and I could hardly walk. The rain had loomed ominously then smash. Hail stones at ankle height. As I tried to descend into the valley at Hornillos the wind and hail were stopping me going down the 500feet to the valley floor. I have never come so close to lying down and letting it pass, but the path was sodden. I did think I could aqua plane to the bottom. After 15 minutes the storm had gone and with it anything dry I had. Water had invaded my boots from the ankles and was trying to escape with every step. This is pish, I thought, then I thought, nah, sittin in a call centre is pish, this is rain!

The Pretty Things are playing Thursday

Aha, but it is Tuesday ?! So do I walk on for two days then get the bus back or do I book another two nights in my hotel or go to the albergue for a couple of nights. So many options!

One wee skewer

That's all I ordered and I get all this. The wee green peppers are spectacular in fact all the veg is here. The meat is intermittent - one bit melt in the mouth gorgeous the next bit being chewed 5 tapas bars later. I don't care about that although the bar man does seem to care about my eating habits. I've long known it's not a spectator sport watching me eat, but I've cleared my second tapas bar today!

And now a skewer! Yum yum

Siesta soon!

Back home in Burgos

The cathedral is jaw dropping in it's stunning beauty but let's face it once you cross the square and head up the side street cross the plaza and enter the tapas calle, it's forgotten and all I think about is which tapas bar to try first. I've only got 8 hours....a glass of Rioja and chorizo cheese and pepper comes to 3 euro so I guess todays bill could be about 60euros. Money well spent. The goats cheese is something I normally avoid but this just works.

It's like a burgos postcard!

Back in 2007 we got lucky with the hotel

I have stayed at the meson del CID four times now. If you get lucky room 404 has a great view!!

Bus from santo Domingo to Burgos

Nobody ever wants to get a bus but injury sometimes makes it necessary. As I head out in the rain to Burgos I am unfortunately nowhere near a bus. However the sunday bus below starts at logrono at 11:00 arrives santo Domingo 11:46 give or take 10, granon, redecilla belorado tosantos villambistia montes de Oca and then Burgos at 12:30. If you need a bus stand at the stop and it will pass. Timetables are rarely at the stop or are based around where the bus starts, eg logrono 11. The timetable below came from tourist information. I don't do redecilla to belorado so stood at bus stop there and bus appeared at 11:57

Eddie Izzard was right

This boy wore a skirt and now is part of the camino marketing dot cash....that's a job I want to come out of retirement for

Such a beautiful garden in town after villaval before orbaneja

Yes - the sharp eyed have spotted the flaw. The parents serve me wine while the bairn drags me into a wee bit of fitba. Ah'm no fit!! I exclaimed but the bairn was Gavin none of it. He moved my bottle of wine, a brave man. And the rest was history. It started with one touch passes. Left foot, right foot, all pretty safe. Then we moved it up a gear. Firm pass. Control with one return with the other. Puff puff I say, fucks sake ah'm knackered. Can he no pass it to me instead o the chair? Next thing he's wearin the boots and ah'm still in ma crocs. Ma boots would'nae help. It gets worse. He starts doin keepie uppie an ah'm like keepie uppie straight after 2 bottles o the vino tinto big man, dinaae ask me tae juggle a baw too

And that's when it happened. My nightmare scenario. Ball river, river baw. If it wisnae today it wid be wan day!

The wee radge saw ma tears and retrieved it. The river as you can see was over 2cm deep and my crocs only have a 1cm sole....bare feet?! water?!, you can Comprendez vous the problem. All is well Rioja is helping my washing dry. Fuck! Ma washin

Fat Al meets long lost relative again

It's becoming an annual reunion