Donkeyshott & Xuitlacoche

Expert advice on foot care from a man called Brett The walk, for me, started in Roncesvalles . I saw the bus coming into the underground car park before anyone else and lined up at the bay. The driver, when he got off, seemed to ignore me. One by one he let everyone else on the bus and when it was my turn to get on he sent me to put my little rucksack into the luggage bay. I was the last on. There was only one seat left on the bus, next to an old man with a beard leaning against the window. I wasn't going to talk to him. Just sit. but I had problems adjusting the seat belt and so finally he reached over and pulled it out from behind the seats and said. 'You're rather large. Wouldn't you be more comfortable up front? you could swap seats.' 'No, but thanks for being so considerate.' I smiled. After a while he broke the silence again. 'I am going to give you some advice for the Camino. He said. I have done it four times. Once with my

'...Las calles están mojadas y parece que llovió, Son lágrimas de una niña, de una mujer que lloró. Triste y sola, sola se queda Fonseca triste y llorosa queda la universidad y los libros… y los libros empeñados en el monte… en el monte de piedad. No te acuerdas cuando te decía, a la pálida luz de la luna'   .... Yo no puedo querer más que a una y esa una mi vida eres tú Aileen and Philip in Santiago de Compostella in 1987 In 1987 I was sent to Santiago de Compostella to teach on an English course. I went with Aileen. An elegant Englishwoman with a small pursed mouth and short hair. She was soft spoken, in control and she knew how to teach children. I did not.  We met in the morning in the cafe next to a small green square and the rain fell softly. It was like mist. So gentle. Together we designed a summer course for the Galician children. It worked. I remember some of our students. They would be in their late twenties or early thirties now.  After work

Pam explained: 'What is a real friend? I'll tell you what a real friend is Phil. When your Mom discovered she had stage three breast cancer she phoned me up and she said.  "I want to go into shopping with you and buy some really good sheets. Egyptian cotton. I am going to be spending a lot of time in that bed, and I want some nice sheets." 'And so we went shopping for your mother's sheets.'

The corniche, photo by Abushababi. I had dinner with Andre last night. A Big Mac, fries and a coke. Andre's face wrinkles just before he says, for the hundredth time: 'There is something else I need to tell you about this place.' He's been here 14 years, so I listen attentively. The Muzzein stop singing. We walk through the streets because Andre needs the exercise and I need to get to know the town.   He shakes hands with all the shop keepers. Cracks a joke with them. Calls them all his friend. I buy four pairs of socks. Two pure cotton bed sheets, a phone top up card and a bottle of Bounty chocolate milk. The shopkeeper slips in a packet of fruit polos, which I discover when I get home. 'I used to walk a lot in Greece, in Crete, I loved walking. Tomorrow we’ll walk on the corniche. The name of the melting promontory of land we are on translates from the Arabic as 'The Brazier.' Andre is generous. He’s helped me find a flat. Explained

Pilgrims' mass in Roncesvalles, From Tauxu2000 I went to the pilgrims mass in  Roncesvalles  in 10 languages. I had a feeling the priest was showing off a little and only pretending to speak Japanese. I pride myself on my fluent Spanish and I swear he did say. All non-Catholics can join in with the mass. That must mean,  I thought,  that I finally get to eat the host, not as an ingredient of hand-crafted Mexican confectionery, with caramelized peanuts, but eat it with full symbolic force. This may help me understand the religious significance of the walk to Santiago de Compostela - as a method actor might.   I convinced myself. So I stood up, dizzy from the coach trip and altitude, and and ate the transubstantiated flesh of The Christ. Well that was very generous of them; to share a bit of their God. Then I realised I had made a mistake. In fact, I realised I was making the mistake as soon as I stood up. Of course I shouldn't be doing this! I was wrong. You ha

I wanted to share with you that I dreamed of Nola last night. I don't think I have ever dreamed of her before. She was beautiful, ageless, but mature. I would say somewhere between her 40's and 60's. I was grown, but perhaps younger than I am now. Maybe in my 30's. My former husband Charles was in the dream also, and there was something there, that Nola knew about, with us but she did not say it out loud but I could tell she understood and had compassion when she looked into my eyes. I think my parents may have been in it too but that part was foggy. My mother was for sure, I think. Nola did Tai Chi. She was an expert in the dream, and I followed along and tried to do the form, and was standing behind her, there were rows of people practicing. She moved flowingly and beautifully.

I thought the theme of Othello was not racism and xenophobia, but I was shocked to discover it was. Of course none of Shakespeare's work is encompassed by a 'theme' as such. Of course Iago is a banker, a Thatcherite, an 80s City boy on the make. A social Darwinist, a realist - a democrat. Simon Bowel is an Iago so are the corporate sharks in Glencore, the Liberals who writing stories about the Arab spring joke about putting sexy Tunisian girls instead of grieving mothers on the front cover, the social entrepreneurs who fight to sustain dependency relations with the poorest producers of commodities, the jobbing builders who work for cash in hand, and all the different levels of British society who belong on different levels of the inferno. They speak in unison and they say: O, sir, content you; I follow him to serve my turn upon him. We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark Many a duteous and knee-crooking knav