Diary: September 23

Arriving at my flat, I overheard a deluded neighbour talking through her door. She wasn't subjugated partisan when I arrived here, but over time, a darkness grew inside of her. Climbing the stairwell, I felt gravely unwell, sensing the sour smell of conceited betrayal; stigmatising an alienating void hapless.

24th

This morning we picked up sheep and took sheep back to the farmhouse. Later on, early afternoon, we went for a drive, twelve miles through a pine forest track. We came across a dead end, so had to return the way we came, bleak out there, sidewards rain, upon a wind swept Goat Hill.

Stopped in Langholm to fill up with diesel, but as predicted Charlie's credit card was rejected; the pump was card service only. With not enough diesel to return us to Hawick, North along the A7, we drove over the England border and filled up at Longtown. We returned to the farmhouse via Eskdalemuir, passing through the Craik, saw many deer and hares.

20th

Had a visit from a friend at my flat, she stayed a couple of hours then left. Charlie is working late hours bringing in this years harvest, this has been successful notabaly the silage.

Returning to Hawick from the Farmhouse we slowed down for a young Roe deer; I wish the deer has more luck with other drivers if the deer decides not to leave the roadside.

19th

It's strange how the mind can be so troubled during none happening days, yet happening days can be calm, even restful. Today Charlie disinfected the poly tunnel with lime; he wore an improvised mask which concerned me greatly.

Lime is a product of natural origin that has been used since ancient times as a disinfectant. As a result of its high percentage of alkalinity, it prevents bacteria and microorganisms from adhering to both interior and exterior surfaces.

This will lower the incidence of wet mouth and other problems occurring with newborn lambs. In March we almost lost two cade lambs due to wet mouth. Using lime to disinfect is an old way, we took into consideration our kitchen garden in view of the water run down from the poly tunnel.

Seeing natural life in the now tempered farmhouse garden is somehow exhilarating, we have bees, attracted by a honeysuckle hedgerow and red admiral butterflies resting upon the farmhouse white wall, and green grass, that one day, been perceived, through dissipated clouds of dissociation, as nurturing home.

18th

Today I am feeling unwell, we arisen in the morning feeling drained, we stood in the pouring rain. pumping up a flat tyre on our 4x4. Arriving at my flat I released I'd left my keys at the farmhouse, Charlie drove twelve miles there and back so I could unlocked my front door and let myself into my flat.

I have with me my friend, Charlies sheep dog Sam; he is good company and encourges me to go outside for a walk for slimming exercise I require to retun to a healthy body weight. In my flat I was enamoured to find a huge flower on my ever growing Japanese peace lily, a result of tending to nurture.

17th

In the morning Charlie returned with a trailer loaded with a hay bale and chaff for the sheep.

The hay is to be layed on the floor of the poly tunnel, after the ground has been treated with lime.

16th

Today we visited Gray Mares Tail waterfall, there were many visitors here, we were followed by a Black BMW our friend, who was present, often complains about. The falls were gushing vigor from a recent heavy downpour of sopping rain.

I found wo beetles aligned together in opposing directions. Our friend descends from the waterfal, edgy with vertigo, finds a different path.

The contrast between heather and rock.

Sheep subjected to a celluar tower?.

I love visiting the less frequented Megget water.

There is so much unspoiled peace here, I feel apprehension as I am writing a description.

After Charlie returned our friend to her home, I presented him with a delicious serving of Toad in the Hole.

15th

Our neighbour left a handwritten letter this morning, threatening to report our burning muck heap to the fire brigade. We attempted to put the heap out days ago, and thought it out after pouring gallons of water over the white and orange embers; but the heap has since relit. This morning we have spread out the muck heap and poured water over it; I get a sneaking suspicion that this has had a knock on effect some place else, ho-hum.

There is no measure of contempt with narcissists, stated in her letter dated 15th September she has already discussed the matter with all our neighbours, but she had already talked to the neighbours when the heap was smoking days ago. The smoke has no chemical, but repulsed she views the heap as "excrement", now I'm thinking about urban people moving their contempt to whiffs of the countryside. She accuses us of lighting the heap, which is untrue. We doused the flames, using full to the brim sheep energy buckets to carry and disperse the water. Smoke is annoying, she cannot open her windows, but to first take the issue to our neighbourhood instead of knocking our door is quite worrying as covert "non-direct complaint".

It seems the September, Scottish Borders heat wave we experienced several days ago has ended with fine rain, so hopefully social stability will return. Returning yesterday we noticed burning fires in the surrounding area, notably a barn, located on the Ashkirk to Roberton road, that had half melted with the heat of their fire, perhaps more muck fires we thought. Charlie is planning to complete the mucking out of the poly tunnel, I fear we're lucky the fire did not start in the poly tunnel as it could spread and possibly burned the farmhouse down, ho-hum. We like our neighbours and are formal with them, I hope these events have not lastingly impaired the mental health of our correspondence (locality consists mostly of farmers) and that of our troubled neighbour(s?).

Knock on effect of events have also made us self-aware of the farmhouse's smoky incinerator, although she has never complained our other neighbour (resident a thousand yards away) hangs out her washing regularly, this is not something countryside people of the Borders do but in hindsight of recent events our rusted incinerator (which is not located near any muck heaps) will not be relit but will be removed. Charlie is transporting muck to the paddock, this is becoming slippy wet making the job dangerous. Improvements to the poly tunnel include repairing the plastic trap, fortifying the structure and improving ventilation; there will also be fewer sheep this winter as we have halved the size of the flock, (than that of last years flock).

We drove into Hawick through pouring rain, this is forecast till Wednesday next week. Through a steamed window screen a figure eight appeared; this did not appear drawn by hand and the placement (lower right) was difficult to gain access to draw a near perfect circle. We've never seen this before, strange. After fetching our friend we drove towards Morrisons supermarket, by N-Bridge roundabout I witnessed a dark void from a black Mini car. The blonde, female driver tee-heed cultist madness at the source of darkness, a front seated passenger attempted to hide from view; but our dash cam recorded both of them and their number plate.

14th

Charlie has almost mucked out the poly tunnel, the ground is to be covered in lime to prevent formation of bacteria. Experienced a poor night of sleep due to snoring. Thinking about purchasing some earbuds; the buds might block out an onslaught of messages the head piecing tinnitus doesn't. Realised state psychological torture injured inflicts a noisy mind, thus foraying peace anywhere, unfound yet conditioned to intolerant presumption of peace everywhere.

My stomach churned yesterday evening, returning to the farmhouse, driving through Hawick I noticed the cult everywhere. They isolate, culturing partisan and repressive tollerances via character assassination. Culturing deformation so that every friendship made curdles, stirred by correspondence defying contempt, found with every second and/or third contact; until systematic attempts at conflict resolution exhaust the associate mind into cognitive dissonance.

11th

Look at this old picture of Hawick's Trinity Bar I found on facebook this morning. I have found this bar friendly, and have enjoyed the time I have been drinking at this establishment. In view of this photographic I cannot help wondering what this bar would have been like back then, what clientele came here, and how they were servered beverages; it seems dancing was very popular back then.

It is believed that the Trinity Bar was constructed in the late 1880s, when Renwick & Raeburn established the nearby Trinity Mills. One of its previous guises was 'Mac's Bar'.

This website is now 5,499,617,280 bytes, that's 5.5 gigabytes in size; this is inclusive of media files such as MP4, MP3 and JPG. I first began writing HTML, CSS and PHP in 1998, mostly for the environmental movement, which today I cannot find rational or reason with. In 2009, I became displaced homeless, experiencing severe sleep deprivation, ritualised abuses and intense trauma I struggled to cope and comprehend both mentality and physically with the dire predicament I found myself in whilst roofless on the streets of Westminster, London.

“Definable precipice of blanket dissociation [cultured ignorance] is subjecting a lone, targeted individual to endless pre-judgemental tribulations, until nothing else matters other than focussing on necessity of projection to accomplish life essential, everyday processes and aims.”.

It was during this time I used Social Media to create a journal of events that were happening to me, a desperate effort to comprehend and constructively cognify a seemingly impossible situation. Due to only having a mobile phone I used WordPress, then, purchasing a laptop I secure web hosting and an independent in stallion of WordPress. It wasn't until 2017, as I began recovering my mental health, that I stopped using MySQL databases, choosing a flat file system in mind of security. Visitors are no tracked, there are no cookies, so no statistics.

“Where ignorance is bliss, / 'Tis folly to be wise'.”.

This website has been changed, from a personal view, many, many times. Frustrations of loss, sorrow, grief, loneliness, worthlessness and voided emptiness I have become have been and continue to be edited to avoid this website becoming a platform of angst. Seeking to highlight the predicament of our people I have sought, opinions left out, to write my exposure pages in historical context; leaving the reader to formulate their own perspective in hope they will release the consequences of their actions from a knowledge of history rarely taught.

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”.

Viewing, you may notice, from a sociable perspective, the absence of people. This isn't because I have left them out, although a handful of people are not mentioned because of safety concerns, but because there have been few people in my life since I returned to the United Kingdom from India in 2008. Naturally I am extrovert, approachable and I hope to think, friendly. This partisan world castigates people hapless from mere slightest inclination, an ostracising totalitarianism of contempt cultured by "all or nothing" Cultural Marxist utopians.

“Most of the harm in the world is done by good people, and not by accident, lapse, or omission. It is the result of their deliberate actions, long persevered in, which they hold to be motivated by high ideals toward virtuous ends.”.

Other than deafening silence and burning paranoia of presumption, I have not seen any change from the castigation of people that have been deemed "racist" or from those cultured into racism via cruel exploitation of irrationalised phobias wrought from targeted traumatisations. This world is on a dystopian course of sheer and utter horror; where inherent distinction has become a fear and loathing perquisite to character assassinate, a defacing debasement, focussed only on cognitive dissonance, enabling an undefinable extinction.

“I would argue that nothing gives life more purpose than the realisation that every moment of consciousness is a precious and fragile gift.”.

Acceptance comes from the heart, and not of weak willed, oppressed people defaced and alienated from self, whom cannot stomach inherent inclination thus shun, factuality of history.

10th

Transported a hundred gallons of water over the paddock hill to extinguish a muck pile fire; the neighbour was very unhappy with being smoked. We had planned to muck out the poly tunnel, but the fire took all morning to put out.

In the afternoon we travelled into Hawick, did some shopping and picked up our friend. After half an hour at the farmhouse, we decided to go for a short walk in the Craik forest. Our friend had come with us on our first failed attempt to get to Wolfcleuch waterfall, on the second attempt me and Charlie got there, and on the third attempt we took our friend to the waterfall. The overcast sky was a heavy grey, rain commenced upon arrive, but we were not deterred, enamoured by the forest's beauty we proceeded unabated.

We noticed so many footprints in the woodland floor since our last visit, trees had been pushed over the burn and stepping stones formed; just how many people had arrived since our last visit here; this place is usually not frequented much at all. Charlie lent our friend his wellies and walked through the burn and the forest bare foot. He stopped at a picnic table and ushered me and our friend to go ahead towards the waterfall. Returning, he had laid some food and drink on the table for us. We returned to our 4x4 wet.

Returning to the farmhouse all the sheep presented themselves on the verge of the paddock. Charlie prepared a barbeque, then left me to cook the food. We also invited a friendly neighbour, who enjoyed a four pack of Tenants larger. We joked how British it is to enjoy a barbeque in the pouring rain. Charlie fed the sheep then took over cooking, he covered with tin foil, the food, from the downpour.