They say that your Camino begins from the moment you leave your front door. In some ways I think perhaps it has been longer than that. Although I had never had a particular desire to walk to Santiago do Compostela and honestly I still don't quite know why I'm doing it, I love the principle of pilgrimage. To journey to a place of spiritual significance in order to connect with ones own spirituality and take time reflecting on life's journey is an attractive idea to me.

So I think perhaps my Camino began when Wraenna posted on Facebook that she wanted to do this trip and did anyone want to join her? That was over a year ago, and initially her suggested dates were Holy Week which for a Church of England priest is not ideal. However even then she was so convinced that having me along on her Camino was something she wanted that she changed her dates so on Star Wars Day (May the 4th) I am sitting on a plane from Frankfurt to Santiago de Compostela typing these thoughts.

I left home last night and picked Wraenna up in Glastonbury at 7pm. ( I am struck that we have left a place of pilgrimage to go to another place of pilgrimage and am wondering how the comparisons are likely to continue.) We drove out through the villages of rural Somerset and before we had reached the A303 I learned that Wraenna is a very excitable tractor fan! It may not surprise everyone but it certainly surprised me when she shrieked with delight at the Big Blue Tractor we passed which she enthusiastically informed me was a New Holland, later, fortunately I was less surprised when she greeted a Red Massey Ferguson with equal enthusiasm. Once on the motorway there were no more tractors and we arrived at the Leonardo Hotel in good order (although there was a moment when I thought we would need to duck as a plane took off over our head) being as how the hotel is less than a mile from Terminal 2.

The car is parked under the hotel and it will stay there all week as I have my car keys, we found our way up to reception courtesy of an extremely creaky lift, and checked in with the help of a lovely chap from Goa who was a trainee so had no idea what he was doing but gave us a room key, directed us to a lift and told us our room was on the top floor. I think a translation error occurred as we stepped into the wrong lift, got to the top floor only to find that the numbers in no way corresponded to our room number. We thought we would try the floor below but when the lift doors opened I was put in mind of a scene from Dr Who when the open the Tardis door with no idea what they might find - for us it was plastic covering to the floor big no entry signs and random tools and furniture strewn across the room, all of which was a little dusty. We rapidly instructed the lift to return to reception (although it wasn't so rapid in responding) located an alternative lift and after waiting for a group of Japanese tourists to play sardines in it we finally made it to the top floor of the correct part of the building and our room which had a view of Terminal 2!

Next was a trip back down to the bar and a very nice bottle of Malbec, some Pringles and a natter, and then back to the room. I have no idea what time we went to bed but I know that after the few weeks I have had, the fact that my emails are off and I'm taking this time as my retreat this year, and half a bottle of wine but my head hit the pillow and I was fast asleep.

Day 2
I woke up at just before 6am which is not unusual but what was less usual was that I had no idea where I was. I had slept so deeply that I was completely disoriented and was briefly quite surprised to discover I wasn't at home, and that Wraenna was in the adjacent bed.

The next short section of our pilgrimage was to get to Terminal 2. Living in rural Somerset I don't get much opportunity to use my Uber app, previously Boston and Kolkata but not England. It is deeply satisfying to see the little picture of the car on the map coming to collect us, and take us to our destination. I think I would like a similar Camino app that shows a little picture of me walking across Spain. Miss Jasleen was a lovely efficient Uber driver and in no time we were ate the Terminal.

Electronic Check-in with the boarding passes on my phone - I can't believe how strange it feels not having paper boarding passes. The bags electronically 'dropped' with another helpful chap ensuring we understood how the machine worked. Straight through to security - I don't know what it is about security staff but they don't appear to have the same skills at politeness as the check-in assistants. Take this off, put that in there, separate those items - is it hard to say please and thank you? Fortunately all this process went smoothly so that we could address the most important ritual of air travel - breakfast at the airport.

There is really never much to say about air travel except that the plane goes up - along a bit and down again. Going up Wraenna's Fitbit told her her heart rate was going up at the same rate as the aeroplane. The turbulence was a bit bouncy through the clouds, we were served a very boring sandwich and then we were in Frankfurt. Ever efficient Germany let us down a little. We taxied to a gate, four gates away from the one we were due to connect with, for disembarking but it wouldn't connect to the plane so we had to get onto bus and be driven to the other end of the terminal in order to walk back. Walking back was a bit like an it's a knockout obstacle course - first was 2 huge flights of escalators or stairs - I opted to walk to see if I could get my heart rate anyway near Wraenna's resting heart rate. Next came security. Cue more blunt security staff, however the most frustrating was the man who wouldn't let me take an unopened litre bottle of water through, one that I had bought at Heathrow Airport, so I had to stand and drink it there and then (or throw it away which seemed like a waste). Wraenna's boots were checked for explosives, as was my kindle - I'm more inclined to think that you would find plasticine on my kindle rather than TNT. Next in the obstacle course was passport control. Fortunately my phone kept sending my updates saying that our connecting flight was delayed so the 45mins was being extended to accommodate the process. When we did reach the gate we discovered that no one had even boarded so we could do the very British thing and join the queue.

Plane goes up, goes along a bit, goes down.