It has always been hard to keep a diary but it has been so much harder keeping fourteen diaries.
I feel at times i'm writing stuff down with hysterically contrasting recollections on the same speech. Its like Bahktinian theory gone mad. We thought the novel was democratic but the fantasy land of pilgrims have no boundaies.
I know my fellow prilgrims are different from me but it is quite funny to see the exaggerated views especially when i have a clear and sound mind and they don't.
Sometimes it's a language thing and I apologise in advance.
I have tried to be succinct whilst allowing them the licence to verbalise in an irrational and irritating way.
I met them all along the Camino to Santiago de Compostela, along the way of the stars.
They were going the same way as me so we had that in common. As unlikely as it sounds, it was enough to cut them some slack. When you meet them you may ask why.
I liked them all in this Camino way, it's a stylised liking akin to people who like Dancing on ice, love Island or even big Tommy C's glorious Hibees. A common bond that disregards every other personal and social attribute.
It's a religion with or without a cross, a pew or a prayer mat. A celebrant or prayer book, but it is a religion.
Pardon the pun but it's a movement. It goes through your body from sunrise to sunset. It pulses across the North of Spain towards Santiago de Compostela. One giant intestine, and the physical activity pushes the point home.
It's a slow and steady flow of humanity.
Characters drift in and drift out of your daily walk. They speed up and you lose sight of them. They slow down and you never see them again. They hop buses or hit hurdles, see doctors or return to work.
They disappear and reappear at the whim of the Camino conjurer, St Jacques, who quite simply provides. Like all great magicians you are too busy seeing what St Jacques provides, to worry about what he's forgotten. Such is the beauty of the Camino.
And now the story.
Josephine Archer - Tommy Turns Cars
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