Here, there, everywhere...

All good things must come to an end...and so must working in a pasty shop.

Eddy and I both finished up at our respective workplaces on the weekend. I celebrated with some ravioli on the house and Eddy had a final half-price pasty. We're a (little) bit sad to be moving on. After three months in Bath we have finally started to make some friends, I've gotten to know the regulars' "usuals" at the cafe... and...hmmm, make that a teensy bit sad. We are thrilled at the prospect of hitting the road again, particularly since that road will be our 780km walking route to Santiago de Compostela. The last few weeks have seen us standing in Boots (the chemist) comparing the weights of different brands of sunscreen, debating the pros and cons of water bottles versus camel backs and arguing over whether the brim of Eddy's hat is sufficient to cover his, well, sizeable nose. We haven't gotten to the stage of drilling holes in our toothbrushes to save carrying those extra few grams...and I hope in the course of this trip that we don't become the kind of people who do.

My Spanish friend, Noelia joined me for a trip into Somerset to visit the cathedral town of Wells and the hippy-alternative-gothic haven of Glastonbury. Despite being most famous for the big music festival held there every Summer, Glastonbury holds it own in the history stakes with the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey believed to be the first Christian church in Britain, and the burial place of King Arthur and Lady Guinevere. On the edge of the town is Glastonbury Tor, an immense hill that dominates the landscape. It is said by many to be the Isle of Avalon, and when it is pointed out that it is not actually an island, true believers are quick to answer that the lands around it used to be almost permanently flooded. Should we believe it? Why not? A climb to the top is enhanced by such romantic imagery. If King Arthur was actually there, on his death bed as the stories claim, he couldn't have picked a more scenic spot to die- but the question is, is he really dead? Depending on who you listen to, apparently not.

Aften climbing the hill, I led Noelia on a crazy ramble across muddy, nettle-filled fields in search of two ancient oak trees named Gog and Magog. Someone had decided to take down the signposts and with each stile we crossed I looked anxiously at the trees in each field hoping that Gog and Magog were, in the first instance, recognisable and, in the second, worth dragging by Spanish friend across some of Britain's worst drained public footpaths to see. We did find them, in the end, craftily hidden away. Gnarled and weathered and mysterious, they coaxed several adjectives out of us, before we realised that we were now a long way from anywhere and had to somewhow find a way back that involved less mud.

Back in Bath, Eddy, Tom and I decided to tag along on the Bizarre Bath walk, a comedy tour of the city. I say 'tag along', but in truth we were paid-up members of the group, complete with wristbands. It was an interesting evening, a toy rabbit was put in chains, popped in a sack and thrown in the River Avon only to reappear later, freshly dried and driving a small car, delivering a member of the tour's diamond ring that had earlier been coaxed from her. Weird. The climax of the evening involved some stocks, some carrots, a guillotine blade, and most unfortunately and unwillingly...me. I was dragged from the crowd by the host, locked up, and after unsuccessfully trying to get the other members of the tour to jeer at me and throw carrots, he tried to chop off my head. Luckily, only the carrots got it, but it took a stiff drink or two for me to get rid of the shakes.

Most recently we've been back in London, seeing my friend, Nicky who has come to study flute at the Royal College of Music, and our old flatmate, Brendan who 'popped in' for a day to start his visa before heading back to America. Seeing familiar faces and hearing news from home was wonderful. Nicky is having to cope with settling into her new college which is squished between Royal Albert Hall and Hyde Park (very tough). We saw some of the Thames Festival which was taking place on both sides of the river. The parade was a bit like a cross between the mardi-gras (minus the g-strings) and a school concert. Utterly amazing costumes...very half-hearted dancing. It was like seeing a butterfly sit and watch TV. We met Brendan at Heathrow and went with him to Kings Cross where he was staying for the night. Eddy and I had a coffee while he went to his hostel and had a shower, coming back out to join us refreshed and dressed almost identically to Eddy. Their jumpers were bought at the exact same shop (though independently) in Bathurst. No doubt about these two, theirs' is a special bond. Brendan ended up walking around without his jumper but put it on for a few happy-snaps in front of Buckingham Palace.

Ali is due here in two days so we have several more adventures planned before we leave for Spain on the 25th.

Love to all, Susie xox