Diary: October, 22

Continued 4/4

8th

Last night I pitched my tent under the stealth of a tree, not unlike a hunted fox, high on hypervigilance, evading a bloodsport that would revere it being torn to pieces.

I walked away from the River and headed north along Edinburgh Road, a man stopped in a camper van and said he had been fishing near Dumfries.

Another lift from a retired police officer took me into Peebles. I popped into a Spa shop and purchased some clearance supplies. It’s strange how blonde cashiers (this occasion with septum piecing) disappear, suddenly, on a revisit after paying out food, but I am now munching happily on a pasty whilst walking down Peebles High Street.

Oh what a to-do, where does this leave economy driving tourists open to exposure, during the colder months of the year?

I left Peebles and hitchhiked to Innerleithen, I was followed by the Banana Republic but still visited St Ronan’s Well anyhow.

Oddly the water wasn’t fit to drink and entering the visitors centre tap water was made available in the unisex toilets. There was a partitioned place in the centre not accessible to the public, curiosity burned as to what might be behind there.

Then took a walk around the hills through some woods.

Hitchhiked a lift from Innerleithen to Melrose from a farmer’s wife, and she dropped me beside Melrose football ground. I walked up to the Abbey to find it closed, so wandered around to take a few pictures (there are better pictures taken on the 9th October 2022).

A woman of Italian origin was faking heart problems, arriving from a closed Melrose Abbey gate and luring me up to Melrose Square before she admitted she was a patient in a mental health acute ward. Her psychriatric nurse came fifteen minutes later to collect her.

I made my way past the ship bar and down the High Street to the Kings Arms. A local character befriended me for a couple of hours, otherwise, I have been alone the entire evening. An encroachment of Motown music eventually drove me away from the bar and off on my next endeavour to find a place to pitch my tent. Took me a half-hour walk around the river to find a tolerable location.

7th

Spent the entirety of the night on the seat of a stacked lorry (with 130 other lorries) due to a fatality collision incident involving a tipper truck and a couple of cars; the time is 6:15 am and we’re still waiting to go, 11 hours later.

It took only half an hour to get to Leven in the lorry, think the driver just wanted to get home.

I love Fife, so visited the beach for a panoramic view.

I also visited Letham Glen.

After a walk along the beach.

And a wandering through a golf course I arrived a the Standing Stones of Lundin

A lift came from a woman who spoke about her sister coming to see her from America, she bought me a hot drink and sandwich whilst filling her car with petrol. She dropped me at Kirkcaldy.

I walked down to the coastline and took some pictures.

I walked through and endured a long hill out of Kinclady, My first lift came from a couple travelling to Dumfries, and then another lift from a man returning from shopping took me to a roundabout on the Edinburgh bypass. I had no luck here so walked two miles down the road to the M8.

I was then given a lift from a black woman, a self-described thinker, who was two-faced and I thought dodgy stopping and taking me to the Livingstone M8 roundabout. A few people stopped but were going in different directions. People in passing cars also pointed to Bathgate. The next lift came not from a passing car but a man walking toward me.

Sig rune, but where is the wood from?

I roamed the streets of Moffat, burning off night anxieties to attain some rest before walking into the damp ground that would exhabitibate mortality over several months, and years. I pitched my tent, in the chill of freezing haze, and walked 54,000+ steps today, my clouded, this slowed-down mind only focused on the methodology of surviving the enduring cold.

6th

Packed my tent from a football pitch near Ballinluig and wandered down alongside the River Tummel to take a few pictures.

As I walked back to the A9 I noticed a car that had been parked for hours watching me, when I approached the driver and got out with his dog, I thought that strange.

My first lift of the day was from a man going into Pitlochry, he was suffering from Lupus disease, and had a sweet dog that pushed its wee head into my lap. He gave me some coins and tobacco before dropping me at a war memorial in Pitlochry.

Walking along the street I came across a dodgy Italian man, he had a cornelian ring up his finger, and more or less waved me over to talk to him. I purchased some food in the local supermarket, then made my way out westwards out of town. The next lift was from an amateur photographer, he was going to Killiecrankie but took me to Bruar falls. After visiting the ladieswear department, and the clan museum I walked up the hill to the Falls.

I walked along the A9 and stopped a Jazz musician driving to Inverness. He took me to the Newtonmore "turn-off", I was then picked up by a dubious farmer as I was about to walk to a cafe, he dropped me at the Highland Folk Museum.

After the visit to the Highland Folk Musuem, I visited Clan musuem briefly, then hitched a lift to Aviemore. First lift was from a dog walker, she took me to Kingussie, then another lift from a from a man taking his poorly wee dog to the vets, dropped me in Aviemore.

Panic attack triggered I was so depersonalised in and about this town, connectionless I stood for hours wondering where to go, until I decided to hitchike out via a layby on the A9.

5th

Woken to pouring rain, and my tent was pitched near Penrith, Cumbria. I was unwell last night, very depressed, and was experiencing time glitches which I believe to be increments of catatonia. I have started my course of Antibiotics as symptoms of Lyme disease worsen. Did not want to pitch my tent here but was exhausted.

Noises came from a layby on A66, adjacent to the location of my tent. The first lift of the day was from a Polish idiot, who only wanted to talk about WW2. He denied Polish concentration camps existed in Scotland among other WW2 facts. When I exited his van, I slammed the door firmly shut.

The next lift from Southwaite M6 services came from a teacher who had become a trade plater, he shared his lunch before dropping me at Dunfermline train station. I walked into town through Pittencrieff Park.

I walked through the town centre and into the Nationwide building society to use a card reader so I could use my banking app on my new phone. The city was how I remember it when a town, noticing I had changed since my last visit.

I visited the museum / library then the Abbey.

The city of Leicester, where I grew up for some of my childhood has a bus station named St Margaret’s, the Abbeys namesake.

The Abbey crypt contains the remains of Kings, my ancestor debruis is one of them. The Abbey lifted and healed my spirit, I felt a sense of well-being for having visited my ancestors.

4th

Pitched about one hundred yards away from the River Dart, my friends on the other side of the road in their caravan, came over early to check if I was OK.

The two “friends” that picked me up and drove me out of Totnes are trying to get me to go to the shop and steal for them; even Dickens could not have written this up.

One friend is named Safi, I knew her when I lived in Truro 8 months ago, and the other I only met yesterday, he looks Asian / Arab and very dark; can’t believe she’s race mixing; but 9/10 it’s usually terrorised, vulnerable, habit forming women who are trauma (egalitarian) blindfolded to do it.

Enjoyed a cooked breakfast.

And took some pictures of the River Dart.

I remembered this bridge.

My friend Safi… love her so much!

I got a soft spot for this friend, I used to say hi to her when I lived in Truro, Cornwall. I was dropped at some obscure A38 junction but was given a lift by some time-killing pensions whose dog was getting x-rayed at the vets. From Exeter services I was named up by a trade plater going to Leicestershire, he took me to Strensham M5 service station before turning off towards the East Midlands on the M42.

The next lift came from a sound engineer named Penny, after arranging to take me to Lancashire she abruptly ejected me at Frankly M5 services stating “Social Anxiety”; I dislike this station, and was terrorised there. I recognised her as compass evil from Soho, when I was displaced on the streets of Westminster, London. Luckily a student from Brighton picked me up five minutes later, he took me to Knutsford M6 services.

The last lift came from a Derbyshire man driving a truck to Sellafield nuclear power station. On his trailer was a device to crack open damaged concrete coffins that were housing spent nuclear fuel rods. He said Sellafield was to become the nuclear cemetery of the world. My eyes welled up with tears of tiredness, as the rain poured over the window screen at Shap. I recognised him also, maybe from another lift sometime ago.

I tried but was unsuccessful at getting another lift from Penrith M6 roundabout. The street lamp above me was out, was much too dark for anybody to stop, fearful they are. I examined my maps locating a nearby county park to pitch my tent for the night; but adjacent a noisy, relentlessly busy A66 did not sleep.

3rd

The night was long and cold, I came off my roll mat and pillow but was too exhausted to realign myself comfortable. I am feeling unwell, sicky flu feeling and pain around my liver, near to where I was bitten, so have to find an A&E soon, I tell myself. My hands were shaking this morning and my eyesight was poor, thus spilled my morning hot drink and made another before I pack my tent away.

Green table cafe was pysh, refused to take cash payment after I had placed my order; shame on them. Fickle Schumacher college students made mockery of my protest whilst cashier stated, "I don't make the discesions".

Nevermind them, I can enjoy the countryside without a card payment.

Then a wee wanders into Dartington hall garden, I didn't pay the admission charge, as I had no money on my plastic card.

After twenty minutes I'd had enough and left the grounds disgusted; won't be making a hasty return to this dystopic establishment.

Later I walked into Totnes, purchased some breakfast from Morrisson supermarket then made my way to the Minor Injuries Unit. I talked with the nurse about symptoms I was feeling, that I had been bit by ticks at least twenty times in the Highlands, and he prescribed me a three-week course of antibiotics to treat Lyme Disease symptoms.

I met my Truro friend Safi leaving Morrisons supermarket, we arranged to meet later and go to where she had parked her caravan. We met later, at around 8pm at the same place, as we left Totnes a cranky couple of Banana Republicians kissed by the side of the road whilst trying to hitchhike a lift.

The area surrounding the trailer was bumpy hardcore gravel, there was nowhere to pitch my tent so after some talk over a hot drink, I went over the busy road to pitch my tent in some neighbouring woodland. After erecting my tent I lit a fire and chanted in Scandinavian.

Being only two hundred yards away from the road was concerning but for my sanity, I needed my sleep. I turned in about an hour after lighting my fire.

2nd

Woken my tent pitched high on Selsley common, tent poles survived the strong winds here last night which I guess is awesome.

This morning I am enjoying a warm caramel latte.

Piss off!

Enjoyed a nice view after packing up my tent.

I have begun monitoring my steps because I am concerned about anxiety walking my feet into plantar fasciitis again. These are my step statistics from yesterday.

Having a restful morning, practising my French on a mobile phone app named Duolingo which has improved my French considerably. I packed up my tent before 1 am and walked through Woodchester and into Nailsworth.

So my friend was at home, she made no reason why she had not spoken to me for six months but had me fix her computers anyway. Got to charge my phone and power bank, I am not staying, but leaving the area late afternoon.

On the way back to the M5 we filled water bottles at Selsley common spring. I waited only a few minutes for a lift that came from a man travelling from Wales in a VW camper van. He took me to Michaelwood M5 services. The place had a new bridge but the motorway signpost had been mashed.

The next lift was from a Greek guy who took me to Taunton Junction, I waited here ten minutes before acquiring a lift to Exeter M5 services. I hitched a lift here from a man who had seen me at Taunton, he said he was driving back to his depo but could not pick me up cause his lorry cabin had CCTV inside.

He took me along the A38 to Newton Abbott, it was dark but not late so I tried for another lift. A 4×4 stopped, and driving was a hippie DJ guy, he gave me a lift to Totnes. I walked down a quiet lane and through some gates, at the end of the lane, past some buildings I found a place to pitch my tent.

1st

Awoken briefly at 6am, rain patter on my tent canvas pitched on a field adjacent to Bothwell M74 services.

Overslept, watching ticks crawl over my tent lining whilst telling myself to get up and be away from daunting anxiety, my cognition is very damaged, regardless of my efforts to get a good night’s sleep. I can hear low-flying aircraft from Glasgow Airport.

Traffic at Bothwell M74 services is scarce and less frequent on Saturday. An elderly man gave me a lift to Tebay M6 services, and then a man from Edinburgh gave me a lift to Keele M6 services. I waited here an hour before a woman stopped in a white van, she took me into Stroud.

I purchased some spring water, instant latte and a tin of soup before walking up to Selsy Common, took these pictures just before sunset.

Sesley Common is on the Cotswold way.

Banana Republicans were all over the place, not pyschologically dissimilar to an itchy red blanket rash of Psoriasis but I was to dispondent to care, about them, or their intrusive bongo drums encroaching upon my peace from a woodland half a mile way.