In which I run along an easy road with some nice views, but fail to enjoy it very much at all because my soul is cloudier than the sky.
In which I reach Málaga in time for Christmas, reflect on city-building strategies, and extend it as a wider metaphor in life. Merry Christmas. :)
In which I meet a Jehovah’s Witness on the mount, almost become meat for two dogs, and indulge in a little Dutch food and directions.
In which I am offered two ways to relax, pick a bone about dogs, and discover the way to Amsterdam.
In which I am well-behaved, thus rewarded with much concrete, see some remarkably ornate buildings, and have some company.
In which somebody stops me and asks me something very surprising, I discover an intriguing conveyance, and a pavement is safely fenced off.
In which I fight my map, get chased by a security guard, indulge in a little scrabbling, and meet a dog called Norman.
In which I round the Bay of Gibraltar, encounter an unexpected and watery roadblock, see some birds’ nests, and hobble up a mini-mountain.
In which I race three cyclists, enjoy humanless beaches, get repeatedly lost, negotiate a lot of cows, find a very dead animal, and espy Gibraltar.