Dr Sam Inés de la Cruz

Last night The Mucker and I went to see The Mission at the Kentish Town Forum. An interesting but slightly disappointing gig, Wayne Hussey still has the voice but neglected much of the old stuff. The crowd etiquette, from folk who are old enough to know better, was appalling.

🎶’I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town …’🎶 Am I a hodophile, nomad or vagabond? Is my addiction to movement borne out of fear of commitment? Who knows? Who cares? Life’s too short! I’m off to the Lakes for a few days.

The problem, Turban, with ‘trans’ identifying men such as Mr McBride in positions of political power is that they invariably use that power, influence and privilege to peddle their misogynist ‘trans’ ideology which erodes and diminishes women’s rights and welfare.

No, Kazamakis. If I’d meant ‘transvestite’ I’d have said ‘transvestite’. The term refers to men who wear clothes designed and made for women. I don’t.

Bon dia! The final hike of my brief Wessex sojourn finds me on the Cranborne Chase. This is one of my favourite vistas and my all time favourite dry valley. The proportions are exquisite!

I’ve been asked far too many stupid questions in my life but this takes the biscuit. I’m a man, how can I experience myself as being in ANY sense a woman? I hated being male and desperately wanted to be a woman but even before ‘transitioning’ I knew I never could or would be.

Timeline cleanser and geological gem. This waterfall on the beach at Osmington Mills is caused by a resistant Bencliff Grit overlying weaker and therefore more easily eroded beds of Nothe Clay.

Mate, I’m transsexual, have been for several decades during which time I’ve conducted extensive research on ‘trans’ ideology in Europe and Latin America. As an academic I deal in objective reality not delusional sentiments. And I’m not, of course, a girl. Neither are you.

And here are just a couple of the aforementioned doggers which litter the beach at Osmington Mills. They’re quite large, over 1 metre in diameter and are formed of nearly spherical carbonate-cemented sandstone nodules.

The afternoon is wearing away. Time to head to Osmington Mills to look for doggers, there will be lots of them on the beach! 😉

The White Nothe was a totemic presence in my formative years. At college I’d sit at the back of the lecture hall writing poems about it. And, 40 years ago, two of Llewelyn Powys’ books, ‘Dorset Essays’ and ‘Earth Memories’ featured in my dissertation on literature and landscape.

The White Nothe is where earth science meets literature. Above the vertiginous chalk cliffs and sprawling mudslides which were once frequented by smugglers stands an isolated row of coastguard cottages, once the home of Llewelyn Powys (brother to John Cowper) and Alyse Gregory.

Phwoar! Top-shelf geology and geomorphology porn! Looking east along the Dorset coast from the White Nothe towards Lulworth Cove. Sublime chalk cliffs, chaotic slumping and epic landforms. In the middle distance Durdle Door is hidden behind Bat’s Head.

Bon dia! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the English Naples. Or maybe it’s the other way round and the Golfo di Napoli is the Italian Weymouth Bay? Any road up, it is, as always a sight for sore eyes.

The Mucker and I enjoyed a lovely weekend of hikes in and around the Savernake Forest and Marlborough (great curry!). As today dawned misty and chilly we followed the Kennet and Avon canal. Autumn is late this year, and also quite ephemeral.

Bona tarda! Home for the next two nights, Weymouth Seafront Premier Inn, £105. It’s a bit chaotic as the assistant manager walked out but the young lad on reception is doing a sterling job in maintaining an aura of calm control. Geology tomorrow!

I should hope so too. Whereas dogs are morally innocent creatures, drag queens are repugnantly misogynist and reactionary male chauvinist pigs. Along with racists, homophobes and ableist pond life, they represent the most vile dregs of society,

Bon dia! Fin del trayecto, it’s been a blast but I have to go home. But fear not! There’s hiking in Marlborough, Malta, the English Lake District and maybe, just maybe, Weymouth before Mexico and volcanoes at the end of next month. 🎶’Ain't nothing gonna break my stride …’🎶

Due to today’s ambulatory excesses I didn’t venture far for my evening meal. But the hotel cafetería did a nice ajoarriero with a couple of fried eggs and the service was exemplary.

Salut! Today’s scores on the doors: 39.4km of distance, 230m of up and 540m of down. Shame the hotel only provides a paper cup. I have standards, the plastic glass is mine.