Blog: April 2023
Lambing season is almost over, at the start of April there were ninety-nine sheep distributed between two grass keeps and one paddock. There have been five cade lambs, all lambs birthed within the flock have survived; including triplets.
This morning we drove out of Hawick, down the A7 turning off at Langholm and onto the road to Lockerbie. We turned right at Bentpath, over a bridge, left at a church, then turned right about one-thousand yard towards the North. We pulled into a car park and proceeded to walk on foot towards Greensykes bothy.
There was much low cloud, the path clogged my boots, but I was not put off by the weather. It took about forty minutes to walk to the bothy, we looked at the Cheviot ewes and their newborn lambs along the way. To observe life unabated is truly a healing thing; undisturbed by alienating vexation wrought from Dominican demonology; a succession of love prevails in this world, uninterrupted, from one generation to another without seditious scapegoat crucifixions.
This is the last day but one before the end of the April, a day after tomorrow will be Beltaine, Spring equinox only seems a week ago, yet we're on the eve of Mayday. Today I woke on the farm, in the morning I fed pellets to the cade lambs; before Charlie trimmed the hooves of two ewes.
Been January and February we had snowdrops, now there are beautiful daffodils in the farmhouse garden.
After a cooked breakfast we visited Craik forest, it's been a few weeks since my last visit, and I have a newer phone camera, so took some new pictures. We walked for about half a mile, before returning to the car; on the way I found a badger skull.
I was searching for a reclusive adder, but found not one.
Later we drove to Galashiels, we were overtaken by at least one car on this road, other times four or five cars. Charlie purchase a toilet seat, later a hoover from ASDA, we ordered a meal at the supermarket cafe, ten minutes later a Martinist mixed race couple arrived. The obsession is chasing down vulnerable people, tan flesh from whiteness of homogenous spirit. Multicultural malice has become so vindictive that we are despised a validated existence; by migrant hordes of interloping inbetweeners, defacing with miscegenation, a recognisable, unique people, ancestrally indigenous to North West Europe. Our lives are devoured and then estranged, as if we never mattered at all, to the future of this here, our homeland.
We waited forty minutes, yet still no food arrived, so demanded a refund. I am impressed with myself for getting the IP camera working, we now have a 2k view of the road and front garden; motion detection will allow us to monitor traffic going by. Yes, the camera is powerful enough to capture numbers and letters from vehicle registration plates. We visited both grass keeps, some of the lambs are ever so slightly lame, we have no idea what is causing this, so have to research the internet for answers. One car always passes us when we infrequently, at various times, when we are attending one of the grass keeps. I have now verified my Twitter account (awaiting authencation) so will be updating that more often.
Yesterday I journey to Galashiels with Charlie to drop our friend at housing services, I am optimistic that they will help her to settle here in the Scottish Borders. She has been traumatised in similar ways to myself, and understands the anguish of anxiety. After six months of eating oven chips, I purchased a deep fat fryer, so I can enjoy chips that are cooked properly. Amazon delivered a new monitor, its twenty-seven inch, much clearer and bigger, less strain upon the focus of my long-sighted eyes.
In the evening we visited both grass keeps, counting the sheep; at one keep they need dagging, worming and spraying, but first Charlie has to make / purchase more hurdles. After Charlie left for the farmhouse I watched "Died Suddenly" not only a story of orchestrated population reduction but a dissolution of humanity, a Malthusian disregard of suffering which I view as absolutely horrific; committed by globalised Marxist utopians associated with the despotic collectivist "cold as machines" movement of 4IR.
Twentieth century Christianity is an unspoken, unseen, unacknowledged evil, exploiting forgiveness inconsolable. Possessed by fear, loathing and envy an unforgivable, spite driven, defacing hatred lurks, lingers and interlopes. An insidious imperative against everything our ancestors were, are, forked hapless from yet to come. The light of our people dissolved into the darkness of encroaching beasts. To endured these egalitarian enablers everyday sickens my spirit from soul, because it is our souls they are taking away.
Other religions, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism collaborate with this genocide; dispossession, steered by betrayal of every belief, prayer to dispossess us of every nurtured sanctity our ancestors suffered to nurture into inherent worth. I know the hatred for my people, because that hatred has been poured into, the darkness I am, systematically emptied when they tore my life apart, searching to dispossess me of the legacy that manifests from our ancestral spirit.
Today I have a full day to update my website; there is so much information to add, yet so many pages to be moved over from my old website; which do I do first? My new friend cooked a taste curry last night , its rare that I eat continental food these days. Walked into Hawick for exercise sake, had a pint in the Coopers bar before returning to my flat; being outside makes me feel unwell, a tangle of anxiety triggers, that would push and pull into irrational directions, burning disociate confusion until I collapsed with psychosomatic exhaustion.
This morning I risen at half past five to help Charlie take three ewes to the market in Longtown. Although the scenery is something to see the drive is boring, it took us forty minutes to reach Longtown, passing through Langholm on the way. After Charlie unloaded the Ewes and handed the movement book, we visited the market cafe for a cooked breakfast.
The breakfast was delicious, and served with a warming smile. The café was empty other than two men seated behind us. We watched other farmers, crofters emptying their trailers of ewes, sheep auctioned today at the market are not going to be killed.
Charlie later stated there were supposed to be at least 1200 ewes here today, we were here early, but I could not see this place filling up to that capacity in just a couple of hours.
Fell down the benches as I was descending, felt as though the fall was not going to stop; Charlie helped me to my feet.
We left the auction room to go see the ewes for the final time, they appeared stressed, apprehensive of even us. I know how that feels, how torturous hypervigilance can become.
Returning to the farmhouse, two cade lambs came from the hill to see me, asking for milk. We're weaning them off the bottle, from twice to once daily, substituting with lamb pellets, which they're happily eating. They are also lightly grazing on fresh grass and silage.
This afternoon the polytunnel was empty, as we loaded and transported the last ewes and lambs to grass keep. Work now begins mucking out the yard, the manure will have to be taken uphill via the tractor tipper; there is still muck to disperse from last year.
The run is to guide the ewes and lambs into the trailer, this is not a "mousetrap"; just a guide. The sheep are OK in the trailer, and go in freely, we transport them from A to B, with no inbetweens; these last ewes and lambs were well recieved by the flock at the grass keep, we checked on the others at the additional grass keep, all were counted as present.
The three ewes made one-hundred pounds each, a good price as Charlie was expecting less because of previous visits to that market. The trip was an adventure for me, I've never been to an animal market before, I have learned so much about sheep during these last two months.
Returned to the flat early morning to do some coding on this website; I am behind with modifications I had planned to make. Today I walked into Hawick with my friend, found a dress in a charity shop, visited a pub, we had a half each, myself Tennants, her Guiness, the clientelle were OK, and so was the landlord, but his wife looked me up and down as if I were dirt.
We waited half an hour for a taxi outside, in the rain, at Sainsbury's whilst a woman filmed me with her phone. Feels safe to be returning to my flat. A shredded heart torn with sorrow, serrated with a length of soul slicing disparities, ignored and alone. I pray they rot into oblivion, I've not harmed a soul, yet they outcast me crippled, into an eternal hapless abyss.
I'll never recant, such evil is unforgivable, slaughtering truth, subordinating us to fakery, slapped inconsolable, as (((they))) deface our forgiveness unrecognisable. Nowhere in Christianity is it written, that ethnocentricity, homogeneity is sinful but I know racism to be the finger pointing doctrine of mass murders, whom they revere. Ugly monster, a cuckoo in the crib.
Up in the early hours of the morning editing images and coding HTML for yesterday's blog. Many cars drove by and stopped five-hundred yards up the road between midnight and one o'clock, irritating PTSD hypervigilance. Other two people in this flat are asleep, I am glad they are restful, I would not want to burden anybody with this, unsettled, disturbed mind.
In the morning I walked to the summit of Galalaw viewpoint along the southside of the hill. The yellow flowers of the hillside gorse were bright, and spring was apparent everywhere, the panoramic view of Hawick is really something. Feels good to rise over troubles, and how many toils and troubles are brewing below, cultured between us, to benefit by those who exploit us, divided, estranged and easy prey for opertunist predators, interloping their savage projections from far away lands.
It's not everyday people endure the malcontempt of "grafters" who revere and value the continued length of flesh they haved skinned between their victim and there victims people. Charlie suggested Yair for a walk to the Three Brethren's, he'd been there numerous times and failed to find these three hillside stones. I've been to Yair Forest with Charlie once before. Walking along the Southern Upland Way, I could not distract myself from the intricacies of this woodland in spring time.
On this occassion I wasn't walking alone
In the evening we shopped at Sainsbury's, a Martinist? walked in and picked up a bottle of French white wine only a couple of minutes after I had done exactly that. I feel possessiveness from them, as though me having something, has to be replicated or bettered; this is how their egalitarian madness responds. In London, whilst homeless Martinists used to swap new things I'd purchased for used (but the same) things, despising me enjoying that "new" feeling.
Feels safe to be back at the farmhouse, the open fire is glowing, and there are plenty of logs for tonight and tomorrow. I also do not have to deal with negative energies from the neighbours in the flat block; which I discharged during my morning walk today. We team cooked a Sunday roast before retiring to bed earlier, our new friend slept on thick soft carpet by the fire; I've slept in this way and found the rest from this position really benefical.
Last night , Charlie took his car to Galashiels to receive a friend named Lynney; she's staying at the flat for a while. Today we're going out for a drive to the coast, a cloudy grey sky looms overcast, but the weather does not decide where I go. We drove through Kelso and Coldstream to get to Berwick on Tweed, it felt awesome to see the river I'd enjoyed so much meet the sea. Charlie popped into a café to use the toilet, then we ate cake and coffee.
We looked around a few shops before driving over to Spittal. The sea was choppy, rolling over dark sand, wash up branches, and origins of drift wood. Charlie dipped his feet, then took me into a seafront café and purchased fish and chips. The café was adjoined by an amusement arcade, many fruit machines and coin jammers were there, the smell of nickel from thousands of two pence was nauseating, as I am allergic to these brown coins.
A huge fat man came in and purchased a cup of coffee and a tub of sweets, I somehow knew they would not miss this outing when triggered by his appearance. I am almost fifty years old, in poor health, my hands and face are winkled, but yet, from thirteen years of deprivation, these spite driven cruelties of Martinism still arrived to chase me down hapless, alienating me as human waste. Those defacing monsters have homes, friends, family, jobs, a future; yet will not rest until I am zombified despondent and dissolved as if I never existed.
I have deleted endless paragraphs describing the hatred they pour into me everyday; believe me when I state just how much I know they hate my people; because I now hate them in the same severity they hate them; only I don't let that hatred rule over me. When I hate, I ignore, turn, walk away, but they destroy, sadistically feeding from inflictions, lapping blood, from wounds they never allow to heal. But I'll live, I have meaning, I'm kind and compassionate, I am human and my spirit will not be broken, snatched, and disenvowed by malignant evil.
We left the cafe, and in the car drove along the coast line, arriving on a cliff edge about a mile south from Spittal. I wonder how the car would drive up this rough track but we got to the top, finding a elderly women, stood upon the cliff edge, filming the choppy sea from her mobile phone. Driving towards the A1, I noticed a sign to Duddo, and remembered the Duddo stones that I had previously visited with another friend in 2017. Charlie had not seen them, so we through Duddo village, parked on a grass verge and walked to the stones via a footpath that ran alongside a field of corn.
Returning to the farm house we passed again through Coldstream and Kelso, shortly before we arrived at Coldstream we were over taken by a white four door BMW, the smae car, in almost the same place (but in the opposite direction) we were over taken in January, on our way to Lindisfarne. We stopped at the two grass keeps to count and check the welfare of the two flocks then drove to the farmhouse to feed the cade lambs. In the evening we retuned to the flat, watched a film about the life of James Randi, and found, I don't like him.
The cade lambs are being ween from the bottle, this morning they were upset, but not that stressed. I am having a break for the farm for a few days to code this website at my flat. Today I am compressing and uploading 360 pictures to my India photography pages. I have happy memories with these God loving people, and in reminisance enjoy editing and uploading these memories to share with you; we all have worth, but recognition through the maya relies on afrimation gained from perspective retropective.
Hinduism believes God is omni-present and capable of manifesting outward into the world from within every living creature. Although charitable and humane the caste system (demonised indifferent by Western Christianity) does not believe in egalitarianism, asserting that people must work out their own sufferings, attaining moksha from liberating samsara, within their own time, and not migrated into horrific displacements, alienated to suffer others time, condemned to be reset, again and gain, rebirthed indefinately through the maya.
Devotees are spiritually revered by peaceful closeness with God, and not by orchastrated, spite driven tyrannies, often involving body snatching possession, which they abhor, and severely detest as demonic. Culturing saviour mentality cultures these attrocities, from egalitarian malcontent manifested from culturing of disparities, that cripples and forks peoples projections to dispossess them of their inherent worth, bestowed upon them from their nurturing ancestors overcoming thousands of years of suffering.
When I returned from India I found myself despondent, chased down hapless, perpetually displaced by Christian Socialists, in Westminster. They alienated me as a "racist" because they wanted to disembody me of family, lineage, disinheriting me of my rich ancestral heritage. Every interaction, connection I gain was exploited, and turned against me; reset over and over again, as an opportunity mule, I was debased worthless, as human waste. Despising a right to reply, they terrorised me senseless from substantiating an adverse reaction.
I believe I was attacked in this way because I simply said "no" to a people boiling in malcontent, who I had rightfully deemed unfit, as a hate filled decimation unto the sanctity of my people, sanctities of which they took away from me. These interloping apex predators subdue their besieged victims psychologically, explained on a website page named Identifying Religious Abuse. I've used the word "identifying" because most victims, possessed by captive mentality will fight to further continuation of these abuses commited against them.
When I was roaming through India alone, sharing my sense of spirituality, I had no idea that my life back in the UK might have been taken away and altercate irreconcilable. Most people in the world, who are not initiated into secret societies, have little if any idea what is happening to them. Yet the inflicted suffering from Marxism culturing disparities is apparent at every level of prosperity in society, ground up and polarised by liberation theory, into a revolving open door of insatiable altruism.
Or that these Hindu people within these photographs would have their perceptions defaced with lies, to condone a inconsolable desolation committed against my people.
I looked down at the poly tunnel entrance this morning in hope of finding the cade lamb alive, but no, he's definitely leaped out of this world. Today we checked the grass keeps, at the first we penned off and oral wormed the flock, then sprayed them with a blue liquid against parasites. One lamb who has been lame had an anti-biotic injection, and had hooves prayed with antiseptic spray. At the other grass keep, Charlie dagged a ewe; we need to build a pen out of hurdles to spray and worm the flock at this grass keep.
Leaving we passed through Newton St Boswells, every time we pass through this A68 small town we find sport branded neds following and filming us with mobile phones. Initially we were going to the garden centre for lunch but diverted to a visitors centre named Harestanes. The visitor's centre consisted of a cafe and a number of small artisan shops; at the cafe Charlie enjoyed soup whilst I scoffed a delicious and reasonably priced artisan style sandwich.
We loaded the car with logs before Charlie fed some coos, arriving back at the farmhouse before sunset. Charlie lit the incinerator, thick smoke scented acrid farmhouse surroundings. In the evening, I served a pasta dish named spaghetti bolognaise, because I am fed up with peeling potatoes every frigging evening. Tonight we're eating gammon, isn't it weird how "racists", such as myself, enjoy a tasty steak of gammon, is this true, I wonder.
Last night , I had a weird nightmare where I told Charlie I only had a month to live, because of cancer. Dreams came, all threatening, involving scenarios of mind-bending displacement. In hindsight, I am wondering just how twisted my mind became, as Martinism rang life out of me. Had a lazy day today, walked the farm dog up and down the hill, spoke to the neighbours, edited this website.
Charlie returned from work this evening, we have emptied the poly tunnel, only two ewes and three newborn lambs remain; it's going to be so much quieter now. It was a bit of a task getting the tractor ready for the spike to take the bail of silage up the hill, then we had to roll the feeder ring to the top also, a ewe had got her legs caught on some mesh, so we chased her down to free her, and cut her toe nails whilst she was under hand.
Lost a cade lamb today, fell onto his back between the fence and bloated out. He was not in any pain, but became increasingly despondent, then his legs gave away, shortly after he arched his neck then was gone. Charlie tried to put a tube down him to try to disperse the bloating, but his fate was already sealed. I was holding him whilst he passed away; he always liked being held and always stop crying when he was in my arms.
TBH, the cade was stressed to the max at being on his own, a supplement ewe was not enough for him, and the other cade lambs were outgrowing him, leaving him behind whilst they searched for grass to eat on the hill. Our people are so important to us, we must never let invaders take off with them, our we'll meet with a similar fate to what this cade lamb went through tonight.
Unbelievable, we just had a cade lamb die, and a mother ewe, still enjoying the comfort of a poly tunnel is more concerned about the flock going onto the paddock than she is about the welfare of her two lambs, who are looking frail; livestock farming can be so emotionally disturbing sometimes.