Today I am glad to be going home to dear old England after a pretty dismal trip. I never really found my feet. It has reinforced my view that Europe has become out of my league. I can barely think of a thing I want to do here. In Europe I feel a pauper and out of place due to the wretched Micky Mouse money that is the Euro. I pine for the old days. Also the Matterhorn was beyond my ideas, more for rich people who can throw money at it, and the young. The grape picking was beyond me due to the un-expectedly late start of the harvest, 13th September. I can take only successes of making rendezvous'es with some former grape comrades. In particular I met M. M, an object of my thoughts for one year. All to nothing though. I will keep on writing but those words from the film spring once more to my mind: "For some men there is only the desert.".
Ive got a few pictures to post from the trip when I get home. See you there.