Sleep in farmer's orchard, awoken by invitation to Sunday breakfast: "Sorry, it's nothing special." Ensuing feast lasts two hours. Only one moment darkens the morning. "Beware of Luxembourg city! It's full of Dutch tourists!" Apparently this is a bad thing.
Finally, set off with a huge packed lunch. There follows the finest day's walking yet, from Beaufort to Echternach via the Wolf Gorge: beech trees bursting into leaf, mossy boulders lining the river and immense sandstone cliffs.
Sleep in a cave. Feel I should run out and slay a bison. Settle for tuna macaroni.
Berdorf castle, 10 miles from Luxembourg city. A solitary tourist with a clipboard. Suddenly, he speaks. He's English! Greet him like a long- lost brother. He's a film producer seeking locations for Pinocchio II. Leaves me with a dire warning: look out in Luxembourg! It's full of Dutch tourists."
Reach Luxembourg city, leave my boots to be re-soled, go busking in slippers (my only remaining footwear). Sleep chez an accountant friend who leaves the house at 7am (ouch), go exploring, fall in love. Decide to stay an extra day. Sleep chez a consultant who leaves the house at 5.30am (OUCH), go exploring, decide to stay an extra day. Tempted to stay a week. More unexpected corners than Paris and London combined.
Sleep at the Youth Hostel. Horrors! It's full of Dutch tourists. Examine them carefully. Can't see any cloven hoofs. Suspect my contacts exaggerated. Then I hear them snore. A cement mixer would be quieter. A long night.
Leave the city (regretfully) and the snoring spawn of Satan (less regretfully), walk south, cross the border into France! Hardly notice, except that it's less manicured. Sleep in a farmer's field, invited for Sunday breakfast. Different country, same hospitality.
For more information on the charity trombone walk, visit the website: www.netplay.co.cafe.co.uk/bonewalkReuse content