Fisterra.

A flying visit. Only come here to do a seascape and get my next project rolling.

I have been refused entry to the municipal albergue because I didn't walk all the way from Santiago de Compostela. Like walking 4,500KM in a year and a half isn't enough! Private albergues seem to be closed. Oh, and you liars sleeping at the municipal tonight - I know, and so does God. You'll be going to hell.

Talking of liars and cheats, that guy walking aorund Santiago with my folder full of A4 sketches. What really annoys me about this is that I talked with him one day in Plaza Quintana. When he left, he left behind his tobacco. I kept it and found him the next day to return it. He knows that folder and those sketches are mine. Absolutely no doubt. Yesterday, he had the audacity to ask me for a fucking cigarette. Cunt! He'll be going to hell also. Little reward for being honest in this world.

Sleep on beach, or fork out for a hostal. It's mild enough, but not dry.