Diary: June, 22

I have an inkling this month is going to be significant, as the precipice of a new horizon approaches the ascent of the sun draws back the treacherous shadows of a deprived and desolated past. Gaining ground from unseen and unknowing descent into an alienated worthless, no more shall these shadows, that were our people, darken the bright prosperity to break our day beyond our night.

30th

This month has been stalked to hell by "strangers". Heartless covenanters belonging to this Nihlistic sect of Christian Socialism. During the month my perceptions were hazed by sleep deprivation, and projection hampered by exhaustion; made worse by debilitating symptoms of Pernicious Anaemia.

Despite this I have travelled thousands of miles through England and Scotland, I have just one day to write down as much of the month as I can before I leave the sanctuary of my friend's house.

28th

I woke late, at around midday, the travellers who had pulled onto Aireville park last night were unfriendly, as if they hated me trying to talk to them. I didn't waste anytime hanging around Skipton and vacated the town via the canal towpath. It wasn't long before I came across a floating raft / houseboat, appeared almost Steam punk, in a wooden themed sense.

No longer after a "stranger" appeared, she appeared shocked when she ran into me taking a photograph. She walked slightly ahead until I broke off to hitch-hike north on Rotary Road roundabout, they often arrive wearing headphones, which are linked I guess to their "strangers" mobile phone app.

"Strangers" drove by, some stuck up their middle fingers at me and seemed to enjoy my thumb being put out as they passed to leave me behind. I have no mind for them as they drive themselves into an abyss, forsaken of ancestral spirit.

27th

Today I woke again on Airville Park, Skipton.

Today I got an appointment with a nurse at 2:40pm, so I can receive my Vitamin B12 shot. The nurse debated whether to give me the shot as, bizarrely, nothing was showing on my medical records to indicate I'd previously received one, had a diagnosis or a blood test.

The nurse consulted with a GP who gave the go ahead and after two hours I began to feel much better. In the afternoon a blonde woman appeared to be luring me, her vibe was foul, I climbed above Skipton then broke away and resting at the top of a hill.

26th

Today it's Sheep and Army festival in Skipton.

I asked a young steward why, and he replied, "because that's the way the local folk of Skipton like it". A few hours later, I walked into a dead fledgling, laid out before Sunflowers and bread; some overshadowed creatures entering this world don't get a chance I thought.

Another steward, a black man in his mid-forties did not know what the event was called, even after checking his event listing sheet he could still not tell me, I thought to myself, how can this be?

For a successful carival the day for me was quiet horrible, however I got through it and took a picture of myself to remind myself I was OK.

25th

Last night I pitched my tent in Moffat playing fields.

I was woken by a childrens football team playing five-hundred metres away from me. Nobody made a fuss about me being there. Walked straight through the town and onto the M74 junction were I was picked up my a dispatch corrier. I was dropped a few miles down the road at Johnsontown Service station, then another lift took me over the Scottish border and into the English county of Cumbria.

24th

This was my last few hours in Ayr.

After this walk by the river I left the town.

21st

Could not have woken more alone, my tent pitched in Ayr, by the sea overlooking the Isle of Aran, on the dawn of Summer Solstice…

As soon as I climbed out of my tent, a cockerel began to crow, followed shortly by some unseen crank playing a military drum beat upon what sounded like a plastic container; who would have thought I was at Bannockburn battlefield yesterday.

As I left the area I walked past a sheriff court and then onto a crescent, to the left of me was Saint John's tower.

20th

Last night I pitched my tent by the River Forth, and aligned my tent in sight of Stirling Castle.

Entrance to Stirling castle was blocked by a hefty security guard, civil but not very friendly; I think he enjoyed watching me turn away.

Today, with some anticipation, I was enthralled to be visiting the National Wallace Monument. After receiving a look of scorn from one woman I was followed from Stirling by a lanky Japanese female "stranger", sporting a NY baseball cap.

Descending to the Wallace monument cafe I caught a smile and a nod from Neil Oliver.

After a lift south from the A9 / M8 roundabout, I arrived at the Battlefield of Bannockburn...

“Here lies our land: every airt Beneath swift clouds, glad glints of sun, Belonging to none but itself. We are mere transients, who sing Its westlin’ winds and fernie braes, Northern lights and siller tides, Small folk playing our part. ‘Come all ye’, the country says You win me, who take me most to heart.”.

Very impressed with the inscription upon the Rotundra which I felt thread a circle of resonance through an opening of my heart. I also found a fine statue of my ancestor, Robert the Bruce; liberator of Scotland...

This was where they encamped and Bruce placed his standard, the original battlefield is located underneath a school and is also part of the playing field. I took out my tent upon the green grass and dried its canvass under the warm sun.

I then packed up my belongings and walked south of the field and stood, my face to the wind. Tears poured down my eyes, I could feel my ancestors standing with me through an apparition of light, a projection of might, determination, and also endearment; I know with surety I am going to them when I die.

“Idiots exchanged wisdom for knowledge and thus fell upon each others swords.”.

The longing for that reunification is so much longer than the short time I now have left in this world; soon, I believe, I'll be allowed to take my leave as this world has altercated utterly worthless to us, in spiteful renunciation of everything we were, are and planned to be.

Leaving I initally planned to leave this area of Scotland, but a mile away I side tracked down a footpath to towards the village of Bannockburn.

I stopped in the Tartan Arms pub for refreshment and thus made conversation with a local man who was warning others not to sit in a pub seat he thought was cursed with ill fate. As I left the pub at dusk they joked thinking I would not be able to hitchike out of the village; well I proved them wrong because by midnight I had landed myself at the light house in Ayr.

I stood at the sea wall edge and stretched out my arms and breathed in the wild winds.

19th

Another night pitching my tent in Aireville park, Skipton.

18th

Pitched my tent in Aireville park, Skipton.

After packing my equiptment away I walked down a hill to a bench, resting to collect my stray thoughts I noticed this...

These two (pictured above) came to me, and did this facing in front of me. Anyway, the flowers along Skiptons canal were awesome..

Since being in Skipton I've been helped once by a yoga instructor with a shower and wash of my clothes; the enterance to her flat is very creepy though. The murals are themes regularly used by creepy "strangers".

After some research I found the flag on the roof is Zulu, maybe this was placed there as a reset marker although I doubt if the yoga instructor had anything to do with it. Over the last few days my anxiety has been bad, thus I am on my feet none stop through the day so I found it a relief to find a place named "The Wilderness" to rest my tired feet from hypervigilance, atleast for a while.

I walked the canal until dark so I could get some sleep during the night; I have been visited every night by cranks since I began sleeping on Aireville park.

16th

This morning I took a walk around the Skipton Castle woods.

Later on in the evening, I attempted to enjoy a few pints of beer in the local Wetherspoons pub...

Which quickly became frequented by "strangers", but I never let their stomach churning vibe infect me. All they do is talk about the interloper being ruined; as if I together with my family were worth nothing other than hatred to this world.

14th

Doncaster was sick with Avian Flu. After being stalked here I decided not to go futher into the town centre, took me ages to get to a place where I could hitchike from.

Pakistani trade plating man, delivering an old Merc, gave me a lift but dropped me off on an impossible motorway roundabout just to the west of Rotherham.

13th

Stalked to hell in Perth today, I am always followed intensely when in this city. Whilst inside a pub a NY capped "stranger" came donning Chicago bull apparrel. He seated outside at a bus stop (for over an hour and a half) as he fed street pigeons on posh Highland shortbread biscuits.

He wasn't the only red and black "stranger"... there were others who were also outside for hours, on both sides of the road, this one was displaying the "Raiders" emblem.

I must say it is of little wonder this is happening here, considering the cranky entertainment that is happening in the city.

After leaving the pub I wasted no time in walking North out of Perth.

12th

Last night I pitched in Penrith after I doctor I'd hitch-hiked a lift from dropped me off by Castle park gates.

By the time I had packed up and got to Castletown they'd already corrupted a stranger into wearing "red and black". As with most of them (and there has been many) all I received was blanket ignorance, pulled by a cultic smile of stupidity.

Home for a future king?

10th

I packed away my tent and returned to the A30 roundabout; on the way I stopped at a mobile café and purchased a cup of tea, and talked a while with the manager.

The first lift came from a man going home to Bude from working with logistic management in London, he took me down to Exeter airport junction.

Five minutes later I was picked up by a farmer who took me to Exeter services junction. The roundabout was busy, I was lucky to get a lift from a handsome guy from Exmouth. Landing at another roundabout, this time along the A38, I found the River Dart and decided to follow the flow of water six miles into Totnes.

9th

Pitched last night in the woodland of Rothiemurchus near Aviemore.

As I pitched my tent a badger attempted to frighten me away from the wood. Royal Bank of Scotland refused to make financial transactions with me on multiple occassions.

After purchasing some breakfast at Tesco supermarket (infested with cranks) I watched a steam locomotive pull into Aviemore station.

By sunset I'd managed to hitchike down to Strensham M5 Services, Gloucestershire.

The last lift came from a woman driving a camper van, a solar panel mounted on the roof blew a deafening noise onto the top of the van. I exited her van at A30 / A35 services near Horton Cross and walked to Ilminster before pitching my tent in a nearby park.