Sometimes, when you’re ill, you just don’t feel like doing anything. This week I’ve had a bout of ‘flu, the proper stuff, not just a cold, and apart from sleeping and eating coco-pops with cream (I’ve got no sense of taste at the moment -but the texture of smooth and crunchy is absolutely gorgeous) I’ve not wanted to do anything.
I really wanted to finish planning my pilgrimage route completely, but I just can’t seem to do the last bit, and I’m wondering if it’s partly psychological. It’s all done you see, down to Exeter Cathedral, 69 days, 1,411 miles… and now, I’m stuck.
I’ve tried looking at the most direct route, but don’t want to walk on the highspeed ‘A’ roads all the way, so then I looked at roads that I though would not take me up too many hills (silly idea in Cornwall) -I studied at Exeter Uni. and paradoxically EVERYWHERE was uphill in Exeter… or perhaps one just doesn’t notice the slow descents… that’s probably a metaphor for other stuff too, but the ‘flu won’t let me be clever today.
So then I thought -well it’s going to take a long time so maybe I’ll just try and take in the sights… or maybe I should just try and go straight across… but my navigational skills are such that I would in all probability end up the object of an embarrassingly expensive moorland rescue mission if I go off-road -so I don’t think I’ll do that.
Now I’m beginning to wonder if I actually can plan this last bit… it’s partly the fear of how I might feel by then -either good: don’t let this journey come to an end and daily life return; -or bad: this last 300 miles has been hell on crutches, maybe I should have given up sooner.
And partly… well… it just doesn’t feel right to plan the conclusion to such an epic journey… I think maybe I shall have to either plan several routes, or not plan it at all -but just walk the last section bit by bit… somehow that seems to make more sense… we’ll see.
I shall reassess the loose ending when the ‘flu has well and truly gone.