Day three in Hirtshals. - Lookin For John Fairweather - CycleBlaze

July 14, 2013

Day three in Hirtshals.

Up at six. Breakfast, then began writing a journal page at seven. Had it ready around half eight and was in the library by nine saving it. Then began writing the next page.

....Yesterday Almirar the German cyclist and her partner that had invited me to eat with them Friday, returned late from a Twenty-seven kilometre ride west to a huge sand dune partly covering a lighthouse which is in the process of sinking into the sea. They showed me the photos on the smartphone. It looked impressive and worth a visit. Perhaps I'll have time on Monday. Monday I hope to find a haircut, as it's nearly five weeks now since the last number two true-cut in Newcastle and the hairs beginning to stick out at the sides. I'd like too to find a hardware store, to buy some really big nails, to substitute these tent-pegs I've got. Granted they weigh nothing. New when I set out, they're all now hopelessly bent. They're so soft that the slightest resistant in the ground when pushing them in, like a peddle, they bend in the middle rendering them next to useless...

They've let the children into the library today. Hard to keep them out as they come in using the key-card. It's the same whether I am in an internet café in Argentina, home or here, eleven or twelve year old boys in a group make too much noise. An old man on the computer shouted at them to keep it down. I didn't hear what he'd said but an argument ensued between him and a Danish-Pakistani who claimed he was picking especially on him because of his skin colour. The old man finished shortly after and left and as morning became noon the noise level intensified and soon I couldn't hear myself think. Towards the end they even put on music. I was glad to be finished then. I could do no more. On leaving I noticed the coffee machine by the door. I put a five crown coin in the slot and selected coffee with milk and pressed. But although the machine was lit-up, nothing happened. I pressed a couple of times more, still no change. I was wondering could I explain this to the librarian tomorrow and get my coffee.

Finally, I've just returned to the campsite and saw the finish of the Tour Stage on Mont Ventoux. A great attack and stage win by the Yellow Jersey. Then sat down to tea at my tent when I car drove up and a man got out with a piece of paper, thereon marked the camp-plot he'd been allocated. I had forgotten to pay so it was thought my plot was empty. So I'd to interrupt my tea and go off and sort it out.

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