On letting people know that you’re on the loo when you can’t close the door (third and final version)
I am in the loo-oo-oo, I can’t close the door
I pray you do not enter, that I would abhor.
I know you must be anxious, not to get caught short
I am trying har-ar-ar-ard, doing what I ought.
This is why I’m si-i-i-inging, so you know I’m here,
Give me five more minutes, then I’ll disappear.
I know the door is o-open, but you can’t come in,
I am on the loo-oo, yes I am within.
I know it must be tiresome, listening to my strain,
Give me five more mi-in-inutes, I’ll not come again.
This is why I’m si-i-i-inging, so you know I’m here,
Give me five more minutes, then I’ll disappear.
(To the tune of Onward Christian Soldiers)
Agnostic though I am, I’m grateful for my Christian exposure, a little from my school, but more from a local church where I was dragged one Sunday by a friend. There was nothing remotely unpleasant about it. No forced conversion, no indoctrination, no threats of hell and damnation, just freedom to make up my own mind. And to make friends.
I loved the hymns, and they still ring in my head to this day. I doubt if any churches still sing Onward Christian Soldiers: it’s hardly politically correct. Strangely, I got to sing it recently with a male voice choir which used to assist at a Remembrance Day ceremony. It was one of the hymns the vets liked: a good marching tune. Although they probably sang “Lloyd George knew my father” to the hymn tune.
The Albergue de peregrinos de la Santa Cruz was very comfortable. In the dorm it was 5€; I shared a double room for 10€.
Dinner was included, although we all had to make a contribution. I brought a bottle of Rioja. At the table, one end was English speaking, the other, French. This Camino Frances remains an appropriate name for this Camino.
A brother or priest gave a very tasteful blessing. You could be a cynical atheist and still feel welcome here. He tied the Camino in very nicely with the text, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”
Such a variety of people walk this Camino.
I had a conversation with a South Korean, of whom there are many on the Camino, without understanding a word she said. However, I must’ve made the right responses because she later came and shook my hand and wished me Buen Camino.
I met a very flustered Scottish woman who had just removed herself from another albergue and was complaining bitterly about it. She walked around muttering to herself and anyone else who would listen.
Pasco, my roommate, was a very intense Frenchman. He assured me that his hometown, Troyes, was the tenth most visited town by tourists in France. I imagined a list of the other nine. Paris, of course, Lyon, Montpelier, Toulouse, Bordeaux, Chartres, perhaps, for the cathedral, Bayeux, for the tapestry... Pascal was camping along the way, but the site was closed in Sahagún. He would average 39 kms a day. He was off by seven.
Paul, a volunteer hospitalero, was most helpful. He was a rather nervous Englishman who complemented his speech with dramatic gestures and bodily contortions. He was torn. He would follow me to engage in conversation while apologizing for having to stay at his desk to work. And overworked he was. He welcomed pilgrims during the day, helped with the evening meal, and was up for breakfast at seven.
In the morning. it was more than a trickle; rather a drib-and-drabble, knots of pilgrims leaving at intervals. This the time to walk the Camino Frances, early in the season, when the albergues still have plenty of room. Ours was exactly half full.
I crossed an old bridge, and walked along a path beside the road, all the way to my destination. It was a pilgrims’ way, complete with recreational areas for picnics and wooden benches for the weary. Very different from my last trek along here when I’m sure we walked along the edge of the road.
At a bar at Bercianos Del Real Camino, ten kilometres on, I ran into Hans and Doris, the German couple. They told me that Albert the Dutchman had seen me yesterday heading off in the wrong direction and had yelled after me, but to no avail. Oh that I had been wearing my hearing aids!
It was not hard to imagine who was the most hated person in this town. There were several albergues in Bercianos Del Real Camino, situated in the original buildings. Many an old building has been saved in a Camino town, refurbished and put to good use as an albergue. Here they were competing for trade in a respectful manner when suddenly an upstart arrives, buys some land just before the town, for surely the town council wouldn’t give a building permit, and builds a slick modern albergue. The nerve! Enough to start the Albergue Wars.
I walked on another seven kilometres to El Burgo Ranero, where I found a bed in the Albergue La Laguna for nine euros. Not quite the same value as last night. More a commercial operation. But the proprietor was honest. He came to find me later because I’d left a euro in change on the reception counter.
A lazy day, but the weather was changing. I took advantage of a fierce wind to dry my washing. Rain is forecast for tomorrow.
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