leaving the home I thought was ours I’m weighting the first steps under the heavy rucksack. frost on the tarmac, a neighbour walking her dog. happy new year. still familiar lanes, few cars, a siren. the first deeper breaths and some goodbyes to few friends closest to me these past months. I invite you, father, and you too, mother, to walk with me. my brothers, too. the sun breaks through the clouds, paulton, busy roads - still, the song of a blackbird above it all. I find myself at my local supermarket, left shoulder and left sole begin to feel - does this all make sense? I'm lost, don't know the road anymore and no one there to ask what to do, where from here. new buildings at the roadside, signs sold or spoken for. despite everything else I've learned about life it's all angst inside me now. a bolt nut, christmas wrapping, a single shoe. the waterbottle gives the off beats to my steps. sounds of shooting behind the horizon, life is ending there. I thought we could master anything together. a cold wind drives clouds over the hills, could mean rain later. when resting at a farm gate I fall asleep briefly, waking up with a bit of a comforting dream still inside me. a bussard turns up and stays with me almost all afternoon. in a forest of pines and beeches I manage to make tea on the third attempt. cheddar gorge tonight - I feel confident! it's dark now, bits of moonlight and a few drops of rain, and just as many worries about the weather. it's much warmer than the past few days, tears and sweat. a break in the gorge, too early for bivouac but I unwrap my feet for the first time. not as bad as anticipated but at least one massive blister shining. all alone now I feel like crying for help and giving up. no reception on the mobile so couldn't call anyone anyway. after resting in the woods for a while the feet seem better. down cheddar gorge in the moonlight, daunting cliff faces in the shadows high above. the solitude tourist trap and then open pubs and restaurants, warm food and wifi. the children on a screen and some well wishing from old friends. a handful of kids on their way to new years celebrations point out the way, the walking seems easy in the dark until the exhaustion sets in. my thoughts wander back into the past weeks of pain. life seems unjust. when I finally collapse at the roadside I find a polytunnel that promises shelter for the night, I still expect rain. the night is a continuous slipping from dreams to thoughts, all of you, a glimpse of hope after a dream of reconciliation, then again despite- and revengeful bits. in the background the beats of a rave not too far away. fireworks at midnight I suppose, I dream seeing a lightbeam from the tor and wake up to find myself utmost alone, but dry and warm. daylight sets in, a cockerel, I procrastinate getting up and going. walking and breathing, meditation exercises. mark 1 mile - making good progress it seems, then again the only true progress is every step, every hour of ones life towards death. my love, did you never feel strong enough, not to look back now but forward? I need breaks now every hour or so. a cup of tea in bason bridge and small talk about weddings and skittles. I'm at that point of consciously walking, appreciating every step, the pain, the beauty. intense clarity. when dusk starts setting in a couple of miles outside bridgwater an angel stands in front of me. not surprising, I think I've expected it. I climb into her car and follow her home.