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