Now my feet are aching and my shins started to ache. I’m hot, tired, miserable and in a foul mood. Chris strides well ahead of me and disappears into the distance. Bastard! The Madrid people come by and offer to carry my pack for me. ‘Carry me,’ I silently plead, ‘make a chair with your hands and carry me.’ I decline their offer, graciously, I hope and plod on behind them, wondering why I am walking on this mongrel trek. I feel so sorry for myself I start to cry. Just a few tears to start, then the chin quivers, the downturned mouth wails and the runny nose. I am alone, the last pilgrim on the path today and I’m bawling out loud now........ There’s a cheer from friends when I arrive at Fonfria Albergue. I hobble to the bar, exhausted and dehydrated. Other pilgrims at the bar look at me with some apprehension and step back silently and respectfully, allowing me direct access. ‘What would you like?’ asks the sympathetic woman behind the bar, her voice revealing her concern at my appearance. ‘Gin and tonic, and a huge one please,’ I gasp. Muttering amongst those close to me spreads around the bar, then there’s silence. In front of me, the angel places an enormous chilled glass tankard containing ice cubes and on either side of the tankard she puts a can of tonic water and a bottle of Beefeater gin. I flip open the tonic and unscrew the cap on the gin and with the can in one hand and the bottle in the other I just pour them evenly into the tankard. The barmaid silently slides a slice of lemon amongst the ice. I look at those around me and quietly say ‘Cheers,’ as I lift the tankard to my parched lips. I empty half the tankard and pause for breath. The muttering and mumbling resume. A young guy says to the crowd, with respect, ‘What a woman!’ ‘Australiana,’ I explain. ‘We usually drink water when we are thirsty,’ says somebody boring. caminodesantiagowalk/My_Husband_Made_Me_Do_It/Home.html
Posted on: Thu, 29 Aug 2013 08:19:44 +0000
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