June 2022

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.

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, or even had a diagnosis or history of 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 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.

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 by 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. This was followed shortly by somebody playing a military drum beat upon what sounded like a plastic container.

Who'd of 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 stood Saint John's tower, the houses surrounding the tower were eiry spooky.

20th

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

This mornings grave appears as though a gaint fox had been sleeping here (they pace in circles before settling down).

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.

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. The monument was not empty, a jubilant ancestral presence was all about enthusiastically celebrating, profoundness of it allbought tears to my eyes.

Very impressed with the inscription upon the Rotunda.

Bannockburn?

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.

I feel safe up here, above Satanism boiling depthless beneath me.

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.

After some research I this foreign flag to be Zulu.

I walked the canal until dark so I could get some sleep during the night; I have been visited every night 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.

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.

Narrowly avoiding the police a White guy stopped and gave me a lift to meadowhall, took half an hour to calm myself down enough to go into sainsburys and purchase a cold lunch.

13th

Weirdness in Perth today.

I must say it is of little wonder this is happening here.

Considering the cranky entertainment that is happening in the city.

12th

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

Packed up and got to Castletown

Home for a future king?

This town is full of Romanian migrants, Romania was zesetsung terrorised for almost fifty years by Communist despots.

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.

Even those who weren't stigmatised with this infection whilst desplaced homeless on the streets were against the restrictive stigmatism of wearing masks.

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 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.

8th

Pitched my tent on Moffat Playing field, woke up late, a dog came and pissed on where I had slept, just as I had packed everything away.

Flattened Red bull energy drinks cans have been left upon my oncoming path for years and years.

At Bothwell service station two men of Asian and African origin driving a 4x4 attempted to snatch me from a laybay, a Pakistani guy beeped his horn and yelled at them, he then gave me a lift to safety.

I took a walk through some fields, woodland, to get back onto a M74 junction where I could hitchike another lift.

I found a ride with a guy who was travelling up to the Black Isle to fix air compression units.

In the late evening I arrived in Aviemore to go see the stone circle.

I walked south through Aviemore and pitched my tent in Rothiemurchus Forest.