But apart from mass........

Apart from mass I wandered around a bit looking at things

and meeting up with people I had met along the way. Right after mass for example I found Tony and Shirley the macpackers from NZ just walking into town.

and not long after Trish who I had met back in the Leonie days. (Neither of us had seen her in weeks by the way so not sure if she ever kept going). Trish had had a few problems with her heel and ended up bussing from Burgo to Leon to the hospital there. she is not staying in albergues and herchosen destination in Santiago was the Parador right next to the cathedral. She invited me to meet her and her friend from Sydney (who had only begun in Sahagun) for a drink there at 6. I went at 6 and Trish was just coming out to meet me to advise that we would not be alone. A Scotsman had joined them in the lounge bar.

Turns out any friend of Trish´s was a friend of his and insisted on buying mine as well, explaining he was a Scotsman with a difference.A- he was a Catholic and B - he shouted drinks!

His story was interesting in its own way. A friend had asked him to walk the Camino 18 months ago. He thought what a crap idea. No golf courses, hated walking anyway....why would you bother. His friend explained he wanted to walk with a devout Catholic and Burt explained he wasn´t that bloody devout!

Anyway a few months later his wife got very very ill, on death´s door. they had been married 40 years and he had never spent a night away from her. They asked to have a mass said for her but all the masses were booked for the next wee while and the first date they could get was July 25th. Instead of talking about her at the mass they told all the life of St James (25 July is the feast day of St James) and mentioned the Camino and next year being holy year. He recognised the name his friend had mentioned and made a kind of pact with God. Let her live and I will walk to Santiago.

She lived.

The minimum he could do for it to count was from Sarria so he began there but was damn sure he wasn´t roughing it (which is why he was at the Parador). Said it damn near killed him but he was that damn proud of himself he could't do anything but buy drinks and tell his story to any person who could understand English (or should I say Scottish).

So after a couple of drinks with him we decided to wobble off and meet some French friends of Sinead´s who had a particular restaurant in mind.

Unfortunately the restaurant didn´t even open until 9 so we had to stop for more drinks.... and so it went. In summary - I was not the first one out the door for my walk to Finisterre the next morning..