San Miniato 18 miles

Nice breakfast which included the owner’s mother’s apple tart. Excellent.

And a good morning’s walk. Back into woods which makes a pleasant change from the very suburban feel recently. And should have made my morning constitutional somewhat easier. But it was a Saturday wasn’t it. So what you ask. Well in these parts the local fellas, who aren’t out in Lycra or chewing the fat in some bar with their cronies, like to commune with nature. This takes the form of putting on camouflage fatigues, grabbing a large rifle or shotgun and heading to the woods to blast anything that moves. I have no idea what particular bird or animal could remotely look anything like my bare backside but I didn’t want some short-sighted cowboy taking a potshot.
What amused me greatly was, on stopping in the first bar for sustenance and an angst-free visit, all 5 pilgrims who happened to stop there too went for a visit as well. There is nothing quite like the occasional shot ringing out in the woods to encourage you to stay on the path and go in bars instead.

It appears that horse-riders have joined the walkers, cyclists and motorists in heading for Rome. Wonder who is next. Skateboarders?

Afternoon’s walking was more out in the open, along on top of dykes, beside canals, finishing up in a climb to a tourist-trap village on top of a hill that they go in for in these parts. I was just nearing the top when I got a phone call from the owner of the place I’m staying in to say that there was a plumber working in my room and I wouldn’t be able to get in for another hour. Bit annoying.

Now I don’t consider myself a violent person as a general rule but I am having a little trouble with an unfortunate habit I’ve noticed. I am often asked if I was tired because I don’t jog up a couple of floors with whoever is letting me in to my room. I have probably walked up to 20 miles carrying a rucksack in considerable heat, not to mention being at least twice their age, so what exactly do they expect?

Tonight’s room is another one of these ‘in the attic’ numbers where I am banging my head every time I move. It isn’t nearly as nice as it looks in my photo. But at least I am on my own.

Out for dinner and started to struggle. Plenty of expensive restaurants preying on gullible tourists. Chose one at random, got shown to a seat, given a menu, and then promptly ignored. After 10 minutes I just left. But that didn’t help me get fed. Finally found somewhere fabulous. They were fully booked but if I could be out in an hour and a half they could squeeze me in. Not a problem. Lovely pasta dish for 7.50€. Less than half of the cheapest item on the menu of the first place. That will do nicely.

Now just got to get through the night without concussion.Read more