I've taken a break from walking, moved over to a festival, the glorious Glastonbury. Rightly deserved reputation. It's a brilliantly managed spectacle, from the large to the small. This afternoon I saw a man spinning himself round atop a 30ft pole, people dressed as seagulls stealing food, I had my face painted, all pretty standard festival stuff.
It's been a strange thing taking a break, right now I can't imagine being able to walk again, being able to go back to that world of constant outside, where steps are automatic, my legs striding across the land without even thinkng any more. Right now, after reversing my body clock completely, awake until 4am, sleeping until gone 2, smoking a bit, drinking a lot, chatting, joking, being deliberately rude, making up stories, flirting, grinning, receiving tips, slinging pizza at a variety of drunken, happy, glitter covered festiegoers with accents from across Britain and beyond. The solitary dreamer of my walking days seems very far away. I'm doing the same I suppose, just wandering around and talking to strangers but it's all very intense here. I watched a butterfly settle amongst a pot of geraniums as I was waiting an hour for my shower this morning and realised that, although I'm living in a tent in fields for six days, it's actually a very unatural environment. The mud squelching under our feet is the only contact with nature here, otherwise it's all food outlets, sculptures, stages, bars and most of all, an endless parade of faces.
I'll go back tomorrow, with my pockets replenished, enough money for another couple of months. It seems I'll be walking for longer than eight months, I'll decide at the end of the summer, whether I walk the distance or walk the time; but I already know what I'd like to do, it just depends how my body feels. I'd like to walk the full route I set out to do, the full 3300 miles, no matter how long it takes me, maybe a year would do it. I'll decide properly later, it doesn't matter now. All I need to do is keep walking; back to it on Tuesday.