New Year, Kutaisi

Day two hundred and twenty-eight, Georgia. New Year's Eve in Kutaisi.

When I drove away two hundred and twenty-eight days ago, I thought I would be back in six weeks, possibly eight. Tonight I look forward and find that I am in no hurry at all. What is out there is lit-up cities, dusty deserts and a great deal of ground.

I see in the year with Jack, who I met here weeks ago — a good-hearted traveller who has been going for four years. We walk the streets. Late on he goes to see his Georgian girlfriend. He will drink too much chacha and have a funny story about it in the morning.

Every day has something in it. When I look out of the window there are snow-covered peaks a long way off. During the day I am grateful for a sun that shows up almost every morning. In the evening I make a stray tomcat happy with a tin of food.

I have called him Max, after Mad Max, because the first time I saw him he was nearly out of his mind with hunger, calling out with his legs shaking.

He is round now, and content, and he has opinions.