The way to my heart...

... It's a simple life in Pilgrimville: get up, walk, eat, sleep, get up, walk, eat, sleep; pretty quick, you get the idea. So, sometimes its the little things that grab your attention and, in this particular pilgrim's case, a large bag of amaretti biscuits. Many of you know my, er, weakness for the sweet things of this world and one of the many joys ( if a tad masochistic) about the rather odd pursuit of pilgrimage is that you expend large amounts of energy therefore must replace. So, I have done just that - what amaretti biscuits? - I ask in disbelief looking at the very empty packet. I now feel extremely sick.... but they were so good, believe me. You had to be there.

It has been extremely humid today which has made for an unpleasant time on the road from pretty Aosta, although, now in Chatillon, it is as ever a joy to reach the day's destination.

French is spoken here as freely as Italian but with more of a Congolese accent than high Parisian, the cows have lost their bells and the cicadas serenade is my constant travelling companion. I am staying in a room provided by the Capuccin Monks who are a jovial bunch - well, for the short moment Fra Lucca poked his head round the door anyway.

Italy play Spain tonight, so I don't suppose it will be your usual Sunday night in ...

Down the valley tomorrow to Pont Saint Martin.

Photos: salami seller in Chatillon market; Roman bridge, Chatillon and a dog who wanted to say hello... Or eat my leg - I suspect the latter if I am honest and he had the chance!