First there was COVID, then there was a war
In 2020 I had plans to walk from Valencia to Muxia, coast to coast. Actually, I had more than plans. I had plane tickets, a train ticket and the first night's accommodation booked. I had also purchased travel insurance. Which turned out to be a Very Good Thing because we all know what happened. Additionally I had made a journal, starting Monday 20 April, finishing Thursday 25 June. When my flights were cancelled, I googled "when does 20 April fall on a Monday?" 2026 - 2037 - 2043 - 2048 - 2054 In 2026 I would be 56 years old. In 2037 I would be 67. By 2043 I would be 73. 2048, 78 years. 2054, 84 years. Hopefully I'll still be walking caminos in all those years. But why would I want to wait? I started quietly hoping that maybe in 2026 I'd be able to use my journal. 2026 approached and I was committed to looking after delightful grandbabies twice a week. I thought I couldn't go. Then I realised I might be looking after grandbabies for the next thirty years, so ...