Moving ...

After the depths explored recently, reading, talking, listening and finally writing ... back to the simple joys of an early walk across the campo and a coffee at the beach bar ... a familiar rhythm for caminoing ... and since the temperature is getting above 35 degrees by the afternoon, the high cloud is welcome and the cool dip too, before a cup of tea with Susie and a hot last leg home ...

Home? Where is that now? The mind is moving already, replacement caretakers negotiating for late August arrival ... a dream about my elder daughter and her dog (Buddy, from her childhood, not Jess her current four legged friend) lost ... this did happen when she was 14, wandering in the New Forest in the irresponsible care of her feckless father, more concerned with her liberation than a fear driven security ... though the setting was different in the dream, with other random, though recognised in other dramas, characters ... hey ho, let it go, never been into dream analysis ... or over thinking ... perhaps a necessary reminder that liberating my children does not mean completely neglecting them ... though benign neglect was the preferred model of parenting when I had a part-time hands on role ... aware that dumping inherited expectations down the generations is all too common ... poet from Hull, Philip Larkin, whilst by no means a role model, expresses it brutally in "This Be the Verse "... delicate readers are spared, the rest of you can find it easily enough ...

Home is still fluid ... more adopted North East than childhood South West ... Stanhope in the foothills of the Pennines the default ... correspondents there still keep me posted ... is it tethering me? Well, the next home is open ... the walk to Santiago and Finisterre, then south to Portugal maybe ... friends there too ... staying open to what resonates and whether it is people, place or both that call, happy to respond ... and always happy walking too ...

Oh yes, maybe a flying visit to see the neglected daughters in the middle of all that!