Did you know that [counter] people have been having a skeg at my little autonomous region?

  

Flat

03/06/2012

Today I travelled to the Tesco Express in Pewsham for a pint of milk and a baking potato for one . . . and that’s about it!

A couple of weeks ago I was 5,000 metres above sea level and the altitude sickness didn’t really get me. Today I am a mere 190 metres above sea level and I have been struck down by acute lethargy.

It has been a struggle to achieve anything at all so I'm pleased that I’ve managed to put my washing away. It took me the best part of an hour to fold up and put in the drawer three pairs of socks, a couple of t-shirts, some work clothes, a French maid’s uniform, some lacy hold-ups, a basque (from Bilbao . . . he wasn’t at all happy about it) and a World War II gas mask.

I’ve also fed Eddie the cat, drunk a gallon of coffee and sorted out the photographs from my trip. Every last picture brought back a treasured memory but I had taken so many I had to delete some before presenting them to the world, otherwise the world’s eyes would have glazed over as it began to yawn and pick its nose through the sheer tedium. There’ll be a link on here for you to see them yourself in a day or two or three. I’m busy loading them up to my Flickr account as I type and yawn and pick my nose through the sheer tedium.

After two weeks in the high mountain places of Peru, England and my life both seem very, very flat. I’ve spent the last six months preparing myself physically and mentally, kit-wise and shit-wise (those pro-biotic tablets really did work a treat) and now I’m home again and the pressure’s off. For almost every moment of those six long months my mind has never been far away from my preparations and training but now my mind is a void space. I’ve got other trips booked (woo hoo . . . dead excited already) but nothing on the horizon is as big a challenge as the Inca Trail’s Mollepata and Salcantay route. Not even going to the Tesco Express in Pewsham for a pint of milk.

I’ve been really busy with work all this week which has provided me with an audience waiting to hear my tales from high and wild places (as well as a lot of cash to finance future wanderings) so I think half my trouble today has been my being stuck at home on a wet Sunday with nowt to do but reflect and plan and yawn and pick my nose through the sheer tedium. I’m not very good at being at home. Perhaps I should practice more. Perhaps I should just give up and move to the Chiriasqa Pass.

 

 chiriasqa pass

The view from the top of the Chiriasqa Pass.

 

Ah well, it could be worse. This time last week I was in Reading.

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