It's been almost a fortnight since I moved to the Scottish Borders village of Ancrum; and found I very much like living here.
My bungalow was empty when I signed for my keys, I've already spent near to a thousand pounds on decoration. Yesterday my appliances were delivered and fitted, and I was glad to have received a new fridge, electric cooker and washing machine. I am looking forward to carpets being fitted, as the old floor board smell is dry and stale.
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I turned on all the rings of the cooker to burn off a nasty chemical they use to preserve the cooker from rust. The fridge was switched on polystyrene and tape removed. However the washing machine began to spirt out dirty water during the programmes spin cycle; flooding the kitchen floor. Returning from work Charlie sussed the drain pipe had bent.
It's hard to fathom the shear and utter hell I've walked through to get here; in many ways this seems like a dream, that waking up is slowly being realised as a reality. Today I walked Sam through a wonderful woodland down by the River Ale. Its hard for me to write appreciation about where I live, because I know the "strangers" will decimate it.
I also purchased an ice lolly from the local shop, which is friendly, and not too expensive. Also I visited the fort. The walk around the north side of Ancrum, in places is as bonnie as the south of Ancrum, There are many areas I have not been, as Sam walk over bridge steps that mentally partition the area for him. My stomach twists viewing Ancrum's evil church.
If only these walls could speak to the outside, what evil would be told from inside. Christians these days are certainly not what they appear or claim to be, underneath the mask of civility are discordant devils in disguise.
I share the same, if not very similar view of Christianity as that of English-born, American Founding Father Thomas Paine: (I am also highly critical of other established religions)
"It is from the Bible that man has learned cruelty, rapine, and murder; for the belief of a cruel God makes a cruel man".
The Christian belief in Satan and Hell has became so profound, that the vision of darkness, manifested soulless blight, voiding life upon earth, as a depthless stagnation of intolerance.
I've not seen any life here in the village halls, not a whiff of a peculated coffee morning, although I've read they hold talks here, about historical grievances, very much a to do with our beloved English ancestors.
Ancrum's pub has, for two hundred years helped alleviate residents of the churches ridged, stigmatising oppressions, historically to the impotent fury of many illusive, moral entrepreneur preachers sighting moral panic from darkest depths of malicious malcontent. Woes of village mentality originate from church, outlet as Christian corner shop gossip.
Ancrum's pub is closer to God that the sterile and impotent church a mere 500 yards up the road. These red brick walls tell of sincerity, spoken truths, acquaintance, mutuality, fellowship, forgiveness and reconciliation.
I do like Scottish people, I appreciate staunch nationalists reluctantly sharing their nation with us English, and deep down, I think they know this historic depthless divide is not of our misgiving. Our ancestors were cultured into opposing indifference by artificial scarcity; sacrificed by sadistic traders, wagering an insatiable cruelty, reigning an impunity unseen.
Other than a container of our ethnicity I have no use for the destructive manipulations of nationalism, forged upon alienating hatred of our brothers and sisters; our relatives estranged and mortalised as vengeful enemy's. With Ancrum my friend, I'll see people as people, and have no sway with push me pull you antics; life does not grieve beyond death.
Sam at the end of his tether.
Revolutions began from the ground up, against conjured disparities been them and ivory tower monarchs; in-between, middle men, had us fighting, slaughtering each other, century after century. The malignant evil of our world is recited generation after generation behind close doors. Thousands of years of stoked intolerances, blazed by fear, loathing and envy.
My bungalow was empty when I signed for my keys, I've already spent near to a thousand pounds on decoration. Yesterday my appliances were delivered and fitted, and I was glad to have received a new fridge, electric cooker and washing machine. I am looking forward to carpets being fitted, as the old floor board smell is dry and stale.
I turned on all the rings of the cooker to burn off a nasty chemical they use to preserve the cooker from rust. The fridge was switched on polystyrene and tape removed. However the washing machine began to spirt out dirty water during the programmes spin cycle; flooding the kitchen floor. Returning from work Charlie sussed the drain pipe had bent.
It's hard to fathom the shear and utter hell I've walked through to get here; in many ways this seems like a dream, that waking up is slowly being realised as a reality. Today I walked Sam through a wonderful woodland down by the River Ale. Its hard for me to write appreciation about where I live, because I know the "strangers" will decimate it.
I also purchased an ice lolly from the local shop, which is friendly, and not too expensive. Also I visited the fort. The walk around the north side of Ancrum, in places is as bonnie as the south of Ancrum, There are many areas I have not been, as Sam walk over bridge steps that mentally partition the area for him. My stomach twists viewing Ancrum's evil church.
I share the same, if not very similar view of Christianity as that of English-born, American Founding Father Thomas Paine: (I am also highly critical of other established religions)
The Christian belief in Satan and Hell has became so profound, that the vision of darkness, manifested soulless blight, voiding life upon earth, as a depthless stagnation of intolerance.
Ancrum's pub has, for two hundred years helped alleviate residents of the churches ridged, stigmatising oppressions, historically to the impotent fury of many illusive, moral entrepreneur preachers sighting moral panic from darkest depths of malicious malcontent. Woes of village mentality originate from church, outlet as Christian corner shop gossip.
I do like Scottish people, I appreciate staunch nationalists reluctantly sharing their nation with us English, and deep down, I think they know this historic depthless divide is not of our misgiving. Our ancestors were cultured into opposing indifference by artificial scarcity; sacrificed by sadistic traders, wagering an insatiable cruelty, reigning an impunity unseen.
Other than a container of our ethnicity I have no use for the destructive manipulations of nationalism, forged upon alienating hatred of our brothers and sisters; our relatives estranged and mortalised as vengeful enemy's. With Ancrum my friend, I'll see people as people, and have no sway with push me pull you antics; life does not grieve beyond death.
Revolutions began from the ground up, against conjured disparities been them and ivory tower monarchs; in-between, middle men, had us fighting, slaughtering each other, century after century. The malignant evil of our world is recited generation after generation behind close doors. Thousands of years of stoked intolerances, blazed by fear, loathing and envy.
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