Diary: August, 22

Continued 2/2.

21st

This is my last day in Belgium before I travel back to the UK tomorrow. Today I visited Lepers with Vince

Streets of Lepers were empty.

The annual Leper car rally attracted much attention.

The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing was huge.

We visited the war museum.

And found the mad man of Lawrence of Arabia.

Watched a film.

And viewed some art.

And discovered the soldiers drew out numbers to gamble who would go over the top of the trenches.

After leaving the museum we walked around lepers before leaving via car for wervik. I had enjoyed being in leper because I was not not completely alone, sleep deprived and psychologically traumatised into a zombified state of catatonia.

20th

Leaving Belgium and returning my journey to Scotland on Monday. Today I have ragging infection in my face which is making me pass out infrequently

17th

Walked over the border to enjoy coffee in Wervik-sud.

Again I was followed over from Belgium by the same black guy. Locals shook hands with him and he talked to the cafe owner (who never spoke to me). The barman has been friendly though and seemed cautious in his demeaner to the black man (for fear of being finger-pointed as a racist?). Today the black guy spoke to me in Pidgeon English. TBH I did not know if this degenerate was a joker or just dishonest. He begged me to give him a job as a translator, then said he was going to visit a family in Glasgow, by the seaside. Was he an idiot or did he mean Dalry, or Salt Coats? a trip to see (Africa-dwelling Stevie Wonder fan) Thomas Hunter. Yes, put your hand over your ugly face.

Crossing over the bridge into the Belguim part of Comines.

Entered a bar and ordered a glass of white wine, moments later followed by another guy wearing a crucifix (I believe the Vatican is crucifying me).

Finished my drink quickly and walked further into the Belgium part of Comines, an dirty old man approached me, sticking his thumb between his fingers he requested sex from me.

I swore at the man before departing to find another bar. I entered another bar and was greted by an Albanian man whilst I ordered white wine. I played pool and won two rounds out of three, his rules required the black potted indirectly which was fun. As the night progressed met more and more.people then was welcomed to Belgium with gift of fries and mayonnaise. People in the bar were down to earth and appreciated the sincerity of their character.

There were a gang of Muslims present earwigging my conversation, they never purchased any drinks and remained seated outside the bar. Later a group of us were occupied and questioned by another group of Muslims at another bar. As the night drew on we left the bar and stopped at an unfriendly off license where I was pressurized into purchasing drinks from some very creepy Muslims. I stay at a white guy’s house, on his sofa, he cooked me food before I went to sleep.

16th

Walked back over the Belgium / French border to enjoy coffee at a car / bar in Warvik-sud.

I was followed over the border by a black man, his car was from Belgium, swear I have seen his pop-eyed face somewhere before.

And here he is, penning the sheeple?

Unmoved I kept drinking in the cafe before going back into Belgium via a trip to the supermarket.

On the way back I noticed the Alpha corpse cult, Critical Religious Theory brainwashing the Christians of Wervik-sud.

Later I took a walk with Vince along a riverside path. We walked past a windmill located beside a tobacco museum.

Did not fail to notice a huge chimney in front of us.

And viewed the sunset.

I am and have been sleeping on the couch at Vince’s, we are friends, nothing more.

15th

I was awoken in my tent by parks police,he said something in French before leaving, I thought it would be good idea to pack up and go.

Along the road back into Bethune I saw somebody sleeping rough.

I drew 250 euros from a cash machine, this is toy town money, and there is zero energy exchange.

After another walk about Bethune, I found an open-air street market, purchased leggings, batteries and oranges, then entered a bar and ordered a glass of white wine.

But even in this bar I was followed by a bearded man who had previously followed me into a cafe an hour before.

After an hour I’d had enough of Bethune’s clowns, deciding to walk north out of the town. I walked about twelve miles before a lift came from a women who drove me to Lile. Lile was very similar to London in appearance which baited my anxiety to walk me out of the city and after another ten miles into Belgium. Walking through Wevik a white punk guy named Vince offered me a place to stay, and I accepted.

14th

Going through custons was quick, and the drive to the ferry terminal ticket office short, the driver had to show the ferry company my passport to purchase the ticket.

We boarded the ferry after midnight, being penniless I was relieved to find only the car was charged for the crossing and not the passengers.

The ferry was creepy, we walked onto the deck outside and sat down on a bench. A family of Jewish people sat opposite taking selfies, and a solo black man walked by, sat and stared at me, I was relieved when my friend said it was time to leave. I found a farm, two ladies were enjoying food by the entrance, I walked to them and asked for water, and they filled my bottled and offered food, we talked for a while before I left.

My first lift in France came from an angry French man who dropped me off on the road to Calais outside of (Marquise) declaring “we don’t want you’re trouble here”. Saw my father’s passion for ammonites displayed on a poster..

Several cars came, stopped and went without giving a lift; it appears the French only think of small distances of their locality, anything else is too far beyond to think ahead.

After walking ten miles I stopped a car who was coherrent enough to give me a lift to Guines.

Then a lift to Bethune.

Oh look, another carillon, loved the sweetness of the bells.

Sometimes I ponder over being the saddest person alive or maybe I am living dead, or dead already, killed in India and now going through a Jacobs Ladder type scenario. Nothing seems real when your cognitive processes are blinded. I do want to kill myself, just can’t decide over, how, when and where to do it. I ask my ancestors for wisdom, to show me a safe way out.

I let go of the living when I realised only the dead walk with me. They think I travel to places to find my living estranged family but I visit to converse with the dead because I am dead to the living. There is a huge dark void of loss in my tummy and I foolishly grieve upon the eternal emptiness because I feel I have been abandoned hopelessly. Today has been so shameful and psychologically vindictive, that I am feeling comfortable in the cold darkness of despair. I sat inside the square to rest my tired legs.

As I wandered around people seated outside bars ridiculed my presence in Bethune. Seating myself restless and hungry a woman walked over and seated herself, opened fish and chips and ate them in front of me.

Revulsion numbed me from caring about this town, my family once lived in this Bethune, but this was no longer the same town they knew, now only faceless strangers dwell here.

I walked out of Bethune as human waste but found a small woodland park where I pitched my tent by a lake. I waited and sat on a bench about a hundred yards watching to see if anybody would. sneak up to it before anxiety levels lowered enough to rest.

13th

Today I woke in Rothiemurchus woodland, a dog tripped flat faced on one of my tents guy ropes and nearly broke the pole. I walked back to the A9 and hitched for about 5 minutes before a lift stopped. So now I am my way to France. Accident just north of Wetherby, waited an hour for the A1 to clear.

On the A1 I met a man at a garage who was there to meet another guy to purchase a puppy. The M25 was closed, we rerouted along the north circular but somehow ended up crossing the River Thames by Canary Wharf.

12th

Hitched a ride out of Glamis to Blairgowie from a middle age man wanting to talk about alternative music. Found wee Oak / Pine copse to rest just west of Blairgowie; I’m feeling very run down so resting more often than usual.

I know its not pernicious anemia because I amnit due another b12 injection until september. On a positive a lot of fluid has disappeared from my lungs since leaving the Northeast highland coast; phenomena?

Keep telling myself I am not going back into Blairgowie, even though messages are running through my head telling of a bodysnatched “new age travaller consort”; I havent lived that life since the 90s and beside where would I begin to find them and what could I do?

Two lifts took me to Dunkeld, 1st was a young woman meeting her boyfriend, 2nd was from a taxi driver; she dropped me west of Dunkeld so had to walk the gaunlet of the shops.

One lift from Dunkeld to west side of Pitlochry, then an hours wait until a lift to Aviemore came from a friendly family.

Now in Aviemore picking up supplies, gas, tent pegs, food for the weekend, although I am expecting to travel rather than scale the Cairngorms.

I mostly do that in the winter; no adders.

11th

Ballater had scarecrows everywhere.

Ballater Highland Games.

This was weird, the organisers made their presence when I paid the last ten pounds I had for an entrance ticket. The games were large, could not get a decent view of the competitors.

The games were scotching, an elderly woman collapsed with the heat by a donut van, stewards move people on from the little amount shade they could find.

Why could they not errect a marque to provide essential shade for those who had paid for tickets that inevitably made the event happen? The heatwave had been going on for weeks, however their was one tap of “free cold water” for the overcrowded event but no toilets despite a beer tent. At 3pm I walked out, at the edge of Ballater, a steward in charge of the roads, radioed me in to who I do not know.

First lift was to Aboyne, second lift to Bancory. Four people followed me trying to talk me out of walking, offering bus fare but I was to run down tired to care. Next lift took me to Peterculter, here I walked up a long brae before acquiring a lift to Stonehaven from some very strange guy who asked me for my phone number. Then next took hours to arrive but came from an elderly walker on her way down to Fofar. She bought me some food before parting, I crossed a busy duel carriageway towards Glamis. By the time I got to Glamis I was much to tired to care where I pitched my tent, choosing to sleep in the village on a patch of grass beside a sun dial. Nobody approached my tent during the night.

10th

Woke up early in morning with field mice trying to chew my ground sheet apart. Pitched just by Gretna Green services after failing to get another lift North past 10pm. Field I camped in.

Waited an hour for a lift, a Glaswegian stopped and took me to Clydebank, gave me food, drink and busfare onto Balloch.

So I viewed south side of Loch Lomond.

Hitchhiked a lift to Stirling.

Enjoyed a walk through a familar lane.

Then hitched a lift to Stonehaven, walked through the Ury Estate

Hitched two lifts, first to Bancory, second lift took me west of Aboyne, dropped me upon the footpath to Ballater. Watched the moon and travel through the brae.

Walked Seven miles along the Deeside way into Ballater, and pitched my tent near the Highland games.