I think I’m a Ronnie Corbett

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I think I’m a tall Ronnie Corbett

There is definitely a pecking order to this walking lark.  Most of the time when I’m walking I kind of feel pretty inadequate. In the albergue or bars or just walking along you hear snippets of conversations.

There are the John Cleeses of the camino.   You hear them talking about Nepal or the AP or Kilamanjaro… which I can’t even spell!  These folks look the part,  quite often speak Spanish and have loads of special stuff in their packs.   Generally I don’t mix with these folks… Once they asked me what I had done before and I joked that i was the girl that drove to the shops… They politely laughed but I knew I wasn’t right for them.

The next group makes up I guess the biggest group on the camino… These are the Ronnie Barkers.   They look good and have good looking gear.   They may not have loads of experience but they are fit and ready for the challenge.

Then there is the third group… The Ronnie Corbetts… We don’t look that great… Huff and puff our way up the hills… Possibly sweat a fair bit too and we are the newbies.   I aspire to be a Barker… The Cleeses are always going to be wrong for me… I am definitely a Corbett.

Anyway last night our private room was a bit of a disappointment.  Not due to the company I hasten to add!  But the bed was small… I know this because I hit my head getting in… My feet touched the wooden frame at the bottom of the bed and my head brushed/pushed against the headboard.  And I think I was wider too so side sleeping was essential.

Also the lovely fountain that at first seemed so charming sent me to the bathroom 3 times in the night… And I didn’t realise how close to the motorway we were… And it was cold.   So whilst I had a wonderful evening in wonderful company… I didn’t sleep well.

 

I paid for that lack of sleep today.   Everything seemed harder.   The ground was stoney, the hills long and drawn out,  the towns catering for tourists and not pilgrims and generally every thing felt jaded.

I walked through San Domingo without feeding the chickens…  You had to buy a ticket to enter the cathedral… Only 3 euro but I’m a Pilgrim so it felt unfair that I had to pay. I walked on,  alongside the motorway getting the occasional honk from passing lorries.   The day got hotter then and I realised I only had one water bottle… And that was half empty.   Good job I only had another 6 km to go.

As I entered Granon there was a sign for a casa rural, with 8 private rooms.   My head hurts and my feet hurt and I am tired so I decided… Why not!

It was a good choice as the public albergue is the most basic I have seen… Gym mats on the floor with everyone pushed up together… And then there was communal cooking,  Mass and prayers… I think I made a good choice.   Catherine and Andre also bailed and are sharing a twin room on the floor above!

Dinner tonight in a tiny bar in this one horse village with some of the nicest people I’ve met out here… So after a bad start I think it worked out well.

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2 thoughts on “I think I’m a Ronnie Corbett

  1. nice photos — did you see the white cockerel? we had to show pilgrim's passport to get in the cathedrals free – sounds like it is more touristy than 8 years ago – you are doing well so keep it up.
    Feelings of inferiority only come when you are down so keep coming back up and only remember the good moments.

    Like

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