Here is a paragraph I wrote on this subject, a few months after returning from the camino.
There are days when I’m pottering about the house, getting on with some work, or more often than not, avoiding all those tasks that should be done, when things sound a little different from what they actually are. If I pause for a moment or look away, then what I see comes from a distant place, but one that still feels very near. It may be the dull thud of the fridge door closing, the click of the computer when I switch it on, or the clink of loose change in my pocket, but what I see making the noise, is the fall of my staff beside my footstep as I walk along, the hospitalero’s stamp landing on my credencial, or the clink of glasses as pilgrims toast each other with a glass of wine at the end of a day of walking. I smile quietly to myself when this happens, because I recognise what it is. It is the call of the camino.
