There is Less to Say Today...

If yesterday was boring you will find it much, much worse today.
The main delight was to do the 'washing.'  This is interesting in that round here they call it 'laundry,' and do not understand what you mean.  Just as in Edinburgh women, for that is what they were made for, will go for the 'messages,' but in these parts they say 'shopping,' or 'Supermarket,' or 'I have a woman to do that sort of thing.'  When I lived in Edinburgh there were many phrases I took for granted but which cause puzzlement in these parts.  A woman asked the time, 'The back of three o'clock' I said.  She stared at me blankly.  She, it must be said, was indeed reared on a farm.  'Do you mean,' she enquired nervously, 'After three o'clock?'  I stared blankly.  What else could I have meant I thought.  Only then it struck me how everyday expressions we grow up with at fixed to a locale.  Just as many words are found only in certain areas phrases and expressions are similarly found in limited locales.  
Of course round here they all speak with the same accent, acceptable but not one to boast about.  When an individual from Lancashire or Wales or Scotland appears I always enjoy the improvement.  Such accents are delightful, while a 'Scouse' one, named after a type of stew, is not so endearing. 

I picked this book up again, I found it under a pile of detritus, and luckily it was open at an interesting bit.  Here MacFarlane walks around in the West Bank with an Arab walker to guide him.  In a another chapter he was walking with a man who picked up odd bits he found as he walked, made a small 'book' enclosing his finds, over a thousand such books in his possession, and his left me wondering about what goes on behind peoples front doors.  The Arab, Raja is his name, had walked many Wadi's in the West Bank and made maps of his walks, not something to carry about with you when soldiers or settlers might be met.  MacFarlane describes in his usual, normal, current, regular, customary, familiar overblown style as he walks.  On occasion this can be interesting, sadly not often enough.  However they walk up and down the slopes, ensuring they cannot be seen by Israeli or settler guards as the area is technically out of bounds.  The word 'technically' means they get shot if seen, US style, no questions asked.
For such hardened walkers this is great fun.  The author walks along investigating the limestone rocks and describing the rivulets where water has over the centuries run down into the Wadi.  Such men enjoy the toil, even with a heavy backpack, possibly considering that this makes them appear 'real men.'  Walking across parts of Israel crossed by many feet over thousands of years in indeed intriguing but while these two considered the stones I would be considering where the nearest Falafel takeaway joint was to be found.  They trudge along wary of figures on the horizon while rain begins to fall.  This, as is the way in such places soon turns the area into clinging yellowish mud as the rivulets allow water to run down.  This is what done for Sisera all those years before.  Arriving with all his trained charioteers he found Barak at the foot of Mount Tabor.  To him this was an easy victory but the rain came and that area was full of streams.  Soon his chariots were stuck in mud and his men, trained to fight on the move, were no match for the 'Infantry' of Barak, especially when they were aroused.  Sisera himself managed to escape the carnage hiding with the Kenites, he saw them as friendly locals, and was lulled to sleep by a milky drink given by the woman Jael.  He may not have known the Kenites were descended from Moses father-in-law and Jael, when she saw he was asleep, did the decent thing and put a tent peg through his scull.  Never trust a woman I say!  Never trust a woman who lulls you to sleep with a milky drink!
My head hurts now.
Those ancient hills in the West Bank must have seen many a confrontation over thousands of years. The chances of peace in that area now is still slim.  
Anyway that is the sort of area MacFarlane is walking over in this chapter, his style has not changed, the people he meets appear regular walkers, I am talking about walking across Spain, or France or some such, just for the adventure.  These are his type of people.  I am left wondering about them myself. What makes people take off into the wild, possibly living alone far from humanity, possibly in rough areas in the hills or by the sea, obsessed with the world around them, oblivious to the rest?  Why do they do this?  I suspect we have all met them, sometimes envious of them, as they head out into adventure.  But these are not all young people, some have done this for decades.  As I said, when you go into someone's house you never know what you may meet.  I found this in the 80s when delivering in London, normal houses may be done up like castles downstairs, just for decoration, other rather run down properties were a wonder inside, this was the dream house for someone.  Another was an ex-sailor, very aged, with dozens of large models of Royal Navy ships, most of these were ships in which he had served during the Great War.  Poor old man was lonely and wished to talk about them but I had to rush on.  I regret not being able to remain for a while, both for him and for me!
Anyway, I might finish this book yet, depending on the nutter individual found in later chapters...