Whoops, sorry Ali. Trigger seems to have stepped on your head.
It has been a while between entries. Sorry to the fan, but I have been involved in several adventures, none of them all that nice. Also, somehow, I seem have blundered into a website called Santiagobis (no, neither do I). But it seems to feature a lot of rather solemn questions about the Camino - what sort of gourd do you recommend - stuff like that. I tried to help in one case, but only succeeded in ruffling a feather or two.
Anyway,I was going to post the following on Santiagobis, but what the hey? I'd only make it worse.
So it'll make a blog.
Feeling in need of a blinding headache - and to purge my soul of the Grave Sin of Irony - I am thinking of lugging my tired old frame along the Camino Frances to Santiago.
I DON'T WANT to get blisters.
I DON'T WANT it to be too hot.
I DON'T WANT it to be too cold.
I DON'T WANT it to be too wet.
I DON'T WANT to be unsure where I am sleeping tonight.
I DON'T WANT to be unsure where I will be the following night.
I DON'T WANT to be blown up by ETA.
I DON'T WANT to be kidnapped and beheaded by fanatical moslems.
I DON'T WANT representatives of The Quivering Brethren to try to convert me as I walk.
I DON'T WANT someone snoring in the next bed in the albergue.
I DON'T WANT someone farting in the next bed in the albergue.
I DON'T WANT someone sniveling softly to themselves all night in the next bed.
I DON'T WANT someone snoring and farting in the next bed, then getting up at 5.30 a.m. and rustling a lot of plastic bags and chatting to his chums as they leave noisily.
I DON'T WANT to be barked at by fierce dogs.
I DON'T WANT to get into arguments about evolution with creationist crackpots.
I DON'T WANT to get stuck in the middle of a herd of sheep.
I DON'T WANT little midgey things dancing in front of my face and flying into my mouth.
I DON'T WANT hideously Spandex-clad bikey-boys hurtling past me at 40 kilometers an hour without a word of warning and making me jump.
I DON'T WANT to see any more Mel Gibson Movies starring Jesus (What's that got to do with it- Rebekah) (Nothing, I just don't want to.)
I DON'T WANT to hear any more pilgs saying, 'Is this albergue a donativo, or do we have to pay?'
I DON'T WANT any pilgrim meals that include french fries.
I DON'T WANT any hospitaleros who don't understand English.
I DON'T WANT to say 'Buenos dias,' to French pilgs, only be answered with, 'Bonjour.'
I DON'T WANT to have to see elderly, grossly fat Germans swaggering around the refugio wearing only tiny underpants.
In view of all this, I am thinking of fashioning a stout, wooden, soundproof box and having myself Fed-xed to Santiago in it.
What do fellow-pilgrims out there suggest?
If you're going to be that snitty about it, I think I'll just stay home.
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