August 2022

31st

Leaving the Buckfast tonic wine monster after I have made myself some breakfast. Was kept awake all last night with esculating intimidation. I thought there was a human underneath somewhere but he’s far too gone to reach.

I walked to the seafront and took some pictures.

Tired, miserable and disgusted.

Spent my last money on a tin of French onion soup from supermarket in Ayr. I hitched out via a lift from a guy going to London. He’s dropped me at Southwaite services were I am debating whether to go south towards Keswick, or North back into Scotland, maybe walk the southern upland way for a wee few days.

I decided to head North, and picked up a lift from a trade plater who dropped me off at Abingdon. Another lift came from a tour guide, he took me to another services before I was picked up in a white van. The driver first said he was going to Glasgow so we arranged me to be dropped at Hamilton services, he suggested another road then reavled he was going to Oban. I asked to go there and he agreed to take me. The trip was about 100 miles and we drove along the West side of Loch Lomond. He was good company, full of stories and a seasoned traveller. Arriving in Oban he offered a bed on his spare room for the night. We drank beer before ending the day.

30th

Woken at sunrise on a cluttered sofa inside a council flat in Wallace Town to my friend playing UVF sectarian songs (do you do a chicken supper Bobby Sands etc). What a culture shift from Belgium, less than 48hrs ago. Messages are still going through my head, tired of them telling me about “no to do things that are destroying me”.

Went back to sleep, catch up on the hours I missed at Hemel Hempstead. Woke at 11am, my Buckfast tonic wine pal is detoxing and in a terrible state. As I approach 50 I am realising rest is becoming increasingly important.

This afternoon my Buckfast tonic wine pal gave me a 10mg diazepam tablet to chill me out, it just induced a groggy five-hour sleep but at least I have a break from the endless messages. Although my friend is drinking I am not, need a rest from the alcohol. At the service station I noticed I was suffering from mania so asked for some help to slow my mind down a bit, Valium and Heroin weren’t what I intended.

29th

Was kept awake most of the night by people walking down a dark lane between 2am and 5am within the darkest hours of night! The rough ground Inlay upon was a mixed blessing in that its was uncomfortable enough to keep me alert to creepy passers by. Disturbed I had not put up my.tent that night as I did not be wanting to stay in the area beyond sunrise. Walking back to the motorway I came across this ugly repressive art on Hemel Hempstead roundabout is absolutely horrid.

My first lift was from an sleepy Asian man who had just finished a nightshift. He dropped me at junction 9 of the M1. I waited here for over an hour until a man from highways agency came and gave me a lift to Toddington Services. Next lift came from a polish man, he took me to Newport Pagnell services.

Another lift came from a half Italian man who drove me to Wethby services.The entire area was crammed packed with revellers from Leeds festival. The next lift came from a white guy named Martin, he took me to Scotch Corner.

Martin was a cool guy, he gave me beer and cigarettes, offered food and said he was glad of my company. We stopped off at a rest area and “chased the dragon” together; something I had not done since I was 18 years old and will not be doing again for a long while.

Here I was picked up and given a lift over the length of the A66, north long the M6 and into Southwaite services. Across the Scottish border I was given a lift from a female driver who went out her way to drop me at my friends flat in Ayr.

28th

Woke up covered in sore mosquito bites. They are coming from an open-top rainwater collection drum that Vince uses to flush the toilet because he desires to conserve tap water.

I tried to tell him that mosquito’s were breeding in the drum but whatever I said went right over his head. He is intelligent but has a quiet demeanour that on first glance appears aloof. Today I have run out of data allowance so blog updates may not be posted for a while, unless I can raise credit or find WiFi access. I did have 20 pounds credit but data roaming charges erased this in just under one day!

This morning I left the house and went to cafe and was invited by a Belgium woman to sit with her. We drank coffee and talked about life, about problems we have both endured with systematic, defacing alienation.

An hour later I took a walk by the riverside and found a park where people played bowls. Here I enjoyed a Fromage baguette whilst learning the rules of this game they were playing.

I returned to the house and enjoyed a late breakfast, in half an hour I will be in a car heading for Calais, purchasing a ticket and float over to Dover. I intend to hitchike directly to Scotland, stopping only to pick up medicine. We left at 3 pm and arrived at the ferry ticket office where I and Vince parted company. Vince parted, I purchased a ticket for 48 Euros and seated myself on a bench outside.

I re-entered the ticket office to view a historic channel crossing flight exhibition.

There was another exhition about the construction of the Calais port, above that, on the third floor was a viewing platform.

I looked back at France, my fathers family had so much history here in Normandy. A shuttle bus took me and other passengers to passport control. I was reminded by British customs to sign my passport, going through for me was easy but I overheard other passengers being questioned about their visit to the UK.

I walked around an empty ferry as the first to board were foot passengers; the exchange machine swapped £1 for a mere 52p in Euros; think I will keep hold of them for now. And about to exit the ferry at a Dover, I so did not want to return to the UK, does it show?

Walked out of Dover and onto the A2 roundabout and have now thumbed a lift from a white van with a Muslim family. My Scots friend thinks I am crazy getting into the back of a van and suggested they could be cannibals, but I know I’m safe. They dropped me at Medway services. Hitchhiking ended at Hemel Hempstead with a lift from a Romanian couple who had just gotten married. They dropped me off at a service station at 1:30 am, the area was unnerving so I walked a mile or so and lay my head on a quiet patch of grass beside some garages.

27th

Anyway, this is my last day in Belgium as my friend is driving me to Calais tomorrow. I am returning to the UK for many reasons, medical treatment, health insurance etc are a few of them. This afternoon I went out for a walk with Vince.

Although I have found Wervik unfriendly I have found peace here, especially by the river. Tonight I learned how to play Cubb, I enjoyed playing the Viking game with Vince immensely.

26th

One bank cash machine in Wervik wanted a 16 digit code from me to withdraw cash, wtf! Local cafe in town served watery coffee, won’t be going there again. In Wervik I noticed a guy wearing a gold ying yang (with numbers on it) pendant. Later I found a quirky music bar in Wervik

Very dark inside, I am waiting for my train to Menen. Train to Menen from Wervik was weird, had a big rubber bumper at the front. was like something out of a seventies movie.

I’ve been to Menen once before with Vince, he has a relative that owns a Belgium fries shop.

I walked around the city for a while and saw the same ying yang symbol on a gay pub.

After linking the two I decided to go to a cafe and drink some white wine. Some strange people visited the cafe, they all sat in the same chair, including captain birdseye who was filming me.

The cafe clientele seemed to tag team each other with nods as they came and went, which I thought strange. I decided to go for another walk and found an all-seeing eye carved into a church.

Then foolishly ordered a glass of wine from an unfriendly cafe whose contempt borderline on the scorn. A woman wearing a thor hammer pendant didn’t know what my Vegvisir was, which I thought strange.

I returned to the previous cafe and found they had retained my passport behind the bar, how did this happen, I thanked them anyway. I gave my seat up so an elderly couple could sit down, never received a thank you and the man I sat opposite to never talked to me. An hour later Vince arrived and got me out of the cafe, we had earlier arranged to have dinner together at a falafel restaurant. Was glad to see him from the unfriendliness of Menen. Before the meal, we visited a cool supermarket.

We took the food away and sat by a lake. Walking around we watched the sun go down.

I did realise I was drunk and tried to act a little bit sober around Vince, who was disappointed I’d started smoking again after five days of abstinence

Went we got back to Wervik I tried to light an electric candle lol. Kept wondering why the smokey flame went out every time I placed it back onto the coffee table.

25th

I am becoming more French by the day, didn’t premise it would happen this quickly, but it’s back to the bonnie on Sunday. Having very tired moments and still sleeping a lot which is strange, my B12 injection is sometime this month. This evening I and Vince took an eastern walk along the riverside. Along the way, I found a walnut tree.

The road came to an end shortly before I break into the river. Vince climbed a Willow tree, it’s good to see men enjoying themselves doing masculine things.

The sunset was awesome, which my phone camera seemed to enhance although no digital filters had been selected on my phone application.

24th

A huge meat fly and a mosquito have been bothering me all night. Just before I fall asleep I have been having weird dreams of people visiting, especially at Vince’s house

I am feeling rested today, this morning I am fondly remembering eating mussels and fries with the lovely french family yesterday; nurtured my french soul to be with them!

Savouring memories are good, nurtures ancestral spirit upon the soul but also gives perspective on the measure of disparity were influcted with.

Getting a grip on anger and an edge on hatred is essential; nobody’s actions should have the power to manipulate or provoke reactions from us. Wervik is full of winks and nods, locals have been tapped. A picture of Anne Frank darkens the reflection of a window.

I took a wander through Wervik town centre yesterday, and found sleepy streets and some strange-behaving people, amongst the deafening silence. In a sandwich shop, they glared filthy looks whilst hymns sung by African socialists played.

There are huge repressive crucifixes displayed everywhere here and along the road is a house adorned in Mary idolism. Neighbours are edgy and unfriendly but to their credit not one fake smile among them. Received many phones calls from Albanian man named Richard requesting my return to Comines; seemed to believe we could of had a future together. Neighbours shouting and a car waiting hours outside my friends house made me edgy last night.

23rd

Woke in my tent to the sprinkle of fine rain upon plastic. Last night sleep was disturbed but pinned down with exhaustion. After midnight I heard a camp bed opening near my tent, disturbingly weird.

Pitched my tent yards away from a water tower on a steep hillside of Saint Etienne au Mont. In the morning I walked around the village before leaving. Locals appeared as though they had been tapped.

I had planned to walk to the motorway but the junction offered three different ways behind a pay barrier so chose to take the road instead.

I walked for four hours, uphill, downhill, along endless lengths of a busy road before I got a lift, they (mother and son) took me to their house where I enjoyed a traditional, delicious french dish of mussels and fries. After coffee, the son with his sister gave me a lift to Lile but I stopped at Armentieres taking a more direct route back to Wervik. The last lift came from a woman who took me very near to Vince’s door, I arrived in Wervik an hour early. Been sitting by the river for two hours, but still no reply to my texts. He said he would help me yesterday, this is why I came back here but everything to contact him is dead. It’s now 7 pm, too late to move, have to pitch somewhere here in Wervik for the night. My friend texted me ten minutes after 7 pm so I left the river bank and went to his house. He has kindly offered to provide accommodation for a few more days until my money comes through to my bank.

22nd

Said goodbye to Vince this morning as he went out the door to work; he said see you in Scotland but I doubt if he will connect with me there. I thanked him for his hospitality, he laughed which made me a wee bit paranoid. This morning I am returning to the UK for two reasons, first: my french family never engaged with me, and second: problematic health is requiring medical treatment. I don’t want to go back but see no other option. I walk out of Wervik, over the bridge into Wervik-sud. Instead of going to Lille, I took the A25 past Comines. The first and second lifts came from a woman and took me to Comines and Armentires

The second lift came from a man who claimed to work for the music industry, he dropped me off outside Dunkerque on a motorway slip road. The next lift came an hour later from a work van, they dropped me a few junctions south.

A Romanian lorry driver stopped, he took me to the port of Calais but would not take me over the channel, citing ferry fare. Hitchhiking onto the ferry was useless here, I walked over to the ticket office, 45 euros they wanted.

Hungry, with my six Euros I decided to walk into Calais town centre to find something to eat.

This place had some wonderful buildings, very pretty

Disturbed and now triggered and anxious I picked up my walking pace, but managed to stop at a grocery and a supermarket; purchased an avocado and a tasteless shredded salmon sandwich. At the southern edge of Calais, I found a fort.

Here I tried to rest and unscramble my wound up mind.

Assessing my situation I asked people online for help, and all refused, and one ignored me and did not reply to me. I then decided to leave Calais out of safety concerns.

Continuing to walk south along a footpath, through a retail park, then a village until I came to a roundabout, not just any roundabout, this roundabout had a channel tunnel drill.

The first lift came from a man who could not understand a word I was trying to say to him, he dropped me off in a car park outside Marquise. With the remaining money, about 2 Euro I purchased some much-needed fruit juice from Lidls.

The last and final lift of the day came from a man playing dance music in his car, give me a mini tour of Bologne before dropping me off in the town centre.

From here, at sunset I found myself walking through the port.

Towards a pier.

Past a port building / lookout tower.

To take a sunset picture at the end of the pier.

I walked along the river leaving Boulogne. Took much time walking a long road through an industrial estate in a place named Saint Leonard’s before arriving in Saint Etienne au Mont.

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 relics of the mad, sadistic wretch 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 with Vince, because I wasn't sleep deprived.

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.

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 used to believe the Vatican was 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 face somewhere before.

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

Returning, 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.

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 decided 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. He drove me fourteen miles south of Calais so I could sleep safe.

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.