Tommy Turns Cars - by Josephine Archer

As yet unpublished - the novel will appear on these pages shortly. Excerpts can be read on Deadbeatfanzine and fatal-bananas both blogspot.com day 4. Puente La Reina. Please don't snigger Jose, but this belly's no getting bigger. Look at my tarts t shirt. Jeremy's feather boa hasn't been past my belly button since the 80's! That was the last time I was under 20 stone! Tommy stood in front of the mirror at the Santiago Apostol Albergue admiring himself in his Strawberry Tarts t shirt, with a glammed up Jeremy strutting guitar a la Mick Jones, pouting like Clare Grogan. And who are the Strawberry Tarts Tommy? Asked Josephine. Only one of the seminal bands of the early 80's. I loved my music and went to a lot of gigs. I roadied at a lot of them. I was always sober, what with my night time job. I can remember when I first got into. I was hanging out in student places in Edinburgh when I was getting extra staff for the car turning. One of the early gigs was at the Pollock halls. The Dirty Reds, I liked them and the cubs and another band. It'll comeback to me. There was a great explosion with punk in Edinburgh. a There were all sorts, I think the Dirty Reds morphed into the Fire Engines. It was all based around different parts of Edinburgh, the art College, the tap O'Lauriston and the wee red bar was always good for new bands. In Cockburn street the wig'n'pen would see them all hang out. I'd be next door in Coppers where you felt you had a back stage pass! Great times. You could park anywhere and drink driving wasn't an issue. Drunk driving was but if you had a couple you were fine! Yes, turning cars! I look forward to hearing that one. Gerry Rafferty was more my thing, maybe a bit of Nazareth and my darling Alex Harvey. He was my glam boy. I saw S.A.H.B. so many times. They made me laugh so much at a time when I needed cheering up. I must've been 35 the last time I saw them. They were my Beatles, my Kinks or Rolling Stones. Every time I'm facing a wee hill I just get action Strasse playing in my head. I picture Alex and I go all robotic. You wanna take a walk, you wanna take a walk and I scream YES ALEX! I wanna take a walk along this action Strasse with you, with you, with you! Before I know it, the hills gone! I always laugh after the hill and say, Alex, surely you could last a wee bit longer! Well you're gonna need Alex, Zal Clemenson and the boys tomorrow when you're taking that walk. It's a steep one 10 minutes out of town. I had a wee peak at the map while the washing was spinning and we meander along the side of a river or a field and the road above us climbs steadily above us. I'm looking at the map and you think that's a clever Pellegrino taking the low road until we find ourselves staring at the Scotsman steps, times 20. That's cheered me up Tommy. My legs had just gotten over the 5 minute hill to get to this albergue! Talking of the art College did you meet Hedge today? She's lovely, got a great laugh, I'm still not sure if she's got a dirty or a dark laughter but it comes from deep inside her. She really let's it out like Shirley Manson or Annie Lennox. Pure fun and mischief rolled into one roaring cackle! I met her in zubiri when she pounced past me with a boundless Boudicca bouncing beat to her. She was rattling some tune as she danced down the hill. 'Hedge has no puff sounds are not enough topiary is tough giving birth was simply love', something about a bairn and birth. I can't remember but her arms and legs were like pistons, jagging into that tough downhill bit. I'll look out for her. Sounds like someone you want as part of the Camino. Just as you start fading going up the hill, rather than down it! I hate the downhills as you saw today. I'm always wanting a breather or my legs just go. They're a bit young for you aren't they. A bit more my generation. You'll be wanting a tax whinger like Roger Daltrey! Don't start me on them offshore boys. I do think it's a gender thing. Women sees the value of taxes, whereas men just love to be on the run. Wow! No shortcuts on that one. I'm a very big and happy tax payer I'll have you know, but you're right! I better keep you away from the bankers. They're all on big pensions paid for by years of fleecing customers and their female staff. Enough of that Tommy, I loved that first cafe after the hill. It was joyous. Proper pilgrim fodder and we all loved it. You could see it in everyone's face. You're just so happy to hit some shade. The WIFI was superb and it was 'upload photo time'! Yeah, and the Spaghetti Bolognese hit the spot as did the beer. In fact the next 4 beers hit the spot! I loved Muruzabal. You could tell the locals travel to eat there and the cooking must be pretty special as it was heaving. Oops, that's the wind blowing your washing away. I didn't want to over pack so I brought 4 pegs but I didn't realise there would be so many washing machines so you could give everything a proper wash. I had visions of 2 for socks and 2 for pants and shirt. I figured I could double up on the ends of the shirt with the socks. Its so hot here, but then we do seem to be walking longer than most so the drying time is less. Yeah, I'm aiming for a 6pm finish most days as I like to have a lot of stops. It'll maybe change if I lose weight but just now I like to park myself in the shade for 20 minutes. Today wasn't easy and if I go too long I do lose it, as you found out, especially downhills! But after that 2pm stop it was perfect. Every 2-3km there seemed to be a bar or even just a bit of shade. I need my water and I love my beer. Oh! I saw you loved your beer. All those football players at Obanos saw you loved your beer! I'd forgotten about that. Decent standard they were. If I was scouting for Hibs I'd be getting that holding midfielder over for a trial. The young lad with the ginger hair. He probably has some Celtic blood somewhere. We've a while until we hit Galicia but I've been told to be prepared for how much like the west coast of Scotland it is. Mountains and Gingers! Watch the ging'ers, when you meet the bankers one of them prefers strawberry blonde. As opposed to Strawberry Tart then Tommy ! Oh aye, he's a blonde and he's no tart unless you've got cash, then he's anyone's tart! A total banker! I met them in the shade somewhere. It seemed early but they were already looking done in. They seem to have been here for ages, but maybe I have been too. I think they started 2 days before us and broke the journey at Orisson. They were chatting about Burguette and where Hemingway did his fishing. I kinda switched off when I saw the tweed jacket! I also wanted to ask who Hemingway was but thought better of it. Never a tweed jacket you chancer. You know they wouldn't wear tweed in this heat. More likely to wear a high vis to dodge the shooting fraternity. "Oh I think they do the the huntin' shootin and Fishin', although its the apres ski one of them likes the most! Its the dinner bell, hen, lets you and me head in." The bell didnt ring at Santiago Apostol but it might as well have done. Like a choreographed mental motion all the pilgrims stopped what they were doing, stood up and turned towards the well lit dining hall. The tables were set out and the pilgims sat randomly. The hopitalero asked your name, confirmed your earlier options choices and then started delivering the food. It was so well organised the pilgims laughed at how their day had been at various cafes, when queues mounted because two pilgrims tried to order coffee at the same time. The food was simple and satisfying. The pilgrims ate with their mouths not their eyes, their hunger belied their percieved appetites. They all said 'that was delicious' but it was hard to see how many had even smelt, never mind tasted their food. A drink was free with every pilgrim meal. For those who chose wine, a pint glass of wine arrived. For those that chose beer, a small tin arrived. For those that chose water a 1.5L bottle arrived. It was generally accepted the wine looked the best deal. Tommy looked at his tin and Jose's wine. He raised his glass and said cheers. St Jacques provides! The dinner was over within 28 minutes. The beds beckoned and nothing seemed more obvious, despite the bar being open. Tommy went over and ordered a beer. He looked around to see who else would like one. The dining hall was empty. The TV was on. It was Euopean football. Tommy drank his beer. Tommy wandered through to a dorm full of snorers. 'Schoolboy error' he thought.