May 2022

25th

I am now at a friend's house, I am going to be updating these pages and happy that I am in a safe environment for at least a few days; instead of being systematically surrounded by suppressive naysayers and vindictive haters who encroach, spitting their venom everywhere I go. Today, withdrawals began from a Vitamin B12 injection I received three months ago. I began vomiting and suffered a quick onset of anaemia until my friend handed me some B12 tincture, which got me back onto my feet within the hour. I can see this maybe a real problem for me in the future.

24th

Woken tent pitched in Charlton king's are of Cheltenham, rolling up the sleeping mat many black bugs appeared, so I scrabbled to pick them up and throw them out of my tent. Happy I am to have found my hat at the bottom of my sleeping bag. Packed up my things and walked the footpath to Leckhampton hill, Along the way I said hi to a man leaving his house but the Asian taxi driver picking him up gave me a seething look that arrived from the severest of malice but isn’t nature wonderful. The walk was shunted by a closed footpath, walkers here are overall friendly, a lady stopped to talk to me, she had settled in Cheltenham from London. The ascent was easy along a rocky road, a tree had fallen down blocking access to the hill.

Three-quarter up the hill, the vista opened up.

Joining the Cotswold Way, a rugged golden path became smooth.

The view of Cheltenham was quite something at the top.

Look how verdant these tree leaves are.

The plinth at the summit was painted in different colours.

It hailed when I arrived at the western face, there is a stack there made by workers at the quarry that was once operating here. The moody grey sky arriving from a south-western direction punched hail stones onto walkers faces.

Leaving the hill, there were many pretty flowers.

I entered Crickley hill. Hungry, I rested and had lunch at Crickley hill's Wildlife trust café; the food was delicious.

I knocked the milk jar over because often I miss coordinate my hands, these accidents happen often due to suffering so much trauma.

Recent sightings = Adders :) and a cuckoo, :( how ironic. There was also an insect hotel they'd named Bugingham Palace, buging is what "enablers" do to distract and cripple your projections.

The view from Crickley hill is quite something.

And a view of Crickley hill.

The walk past the Air Balloon pub was chocking with heavy traffic, I'm surprised the business manages to remain open; if it were not for the cranky clientele that frequent it. I took the path along the hillside to avoid Barrow Wake viewpoint, subjected to anti-social use by doggers and other creepy perverts.

The Cotswold way became awesome once more as I entered some woodland.

Something shit was going on in Buckholt woodland, every time I go near this place they do shit things, out of sight, out of mind. But I found a pretty flower and took a photograph of it.

A few miles along the national footpath, I arrived at Painswick Beacon, which is the highest point in Gloucestershire; the Wysis Way crosses the Cotswold Way here also. Some person, probably local, had been severely offended by the dropping of litter.

Arriving onto the golf course, an elderly man with his wife approached. I felt him rub my ego as he approached me, in an exacting same manner a climber approached me on the way to Ben MacDui summit, just a few days ago. He wanted to take some walking poles he'd made out of hazel and offered a lift into Painswick; I declined.

After walking past a quarry my map application on my mobile phone failed to load the Cotswold way after the village of Painswick but I found my way through OK, because I have been to this place before.

As 5pm approached I'd walked over sixteen miles; my feet had become sore from wearing in my new walking boots; I messaged my faery friend and she came and picked me up in her car; a mere 30 or so yards from the village of Edge.

I was glad to arrive at my faery friends house. The hot water of the shower running over my body calmed my quivering and a hot meal helped me rest for the night.

23rd

Last night was hot and muggy, I lay crippled with exhaustion, needing to raise my head and make a pillow but too tired to crunch up my clothes to raise my head. Messages started at 5am, soon as I opened my eyes, this morning I am very anxious. Packing away my tent, I noticed my hat was missing; I know I was wearing it when I put up my tent, but now I find it has completely disappeared this morning. I am suspecting the hat fell off my head as I was entering the tent, then it was taken during the night. Enablers stole items of clothing from me in London when I was displaced on the streets; they also swapped clothing I purchased for identical clothing that had been worn, to exclude me of that "new" feeling.

I found a café where I purchased a substantial vegetarian breakfast for only £5, the owner talked about how him and his partner had invested everything they had into the business. A step into the unknown that had been successful for four years since opening, despite financial anxieties about an uncertain future.

I purchased a ticket at Warwick parkway to Birmingham Moor Street (trains did not go to New Street from this station) for a mere £8. Walking up the stairs onto the platform, a countryside view unfolded.

I caught the train at 9.16am.

Arriving at Moor street, a lanky male Rastafarian, gave me a filthy look whilst stood on the train walkway. He placed his bag to the right of me and, looked as though he was attempting to find a button from the outside of the black canvass bag, was really alarming. Still being early, I found a Witherspoon pub (the Square peg) and waited for my twitter friend to arrive.

Insane how many White males are homeless on the streets of Birmingham city centre, absolute disgrace. Most white males on the streets of Birmingham city centre are of white Norse origin. Had a nice day with my Twitter friend Maria, we went to some pubs and experienced Norwegian teenagers enjoying playing a circular chase game outside law courts, their passage circulated my soul and I felt akin to meet them, my people. I searched Birmingham city centre for a camping shop, but could only find Millets.

There were many walking boots for sale, after trying on a couple I settled for a brown pair of Berghuas at £135, that was reduced from £160. I also purchased two pairs of walking socks at £20. I left my old boots and socks in a bag, they smelled foul, the shop attendant offered to bin them for me.

The train arrived in Cheltenham spa in no time at all… Being first and only the train made.

I popped into a shabby pub named “the Midland”; an Asian man walked in, nodded to an overweight (bruiser style) bar maid, then left through a door marked “private”. Here, as I was talking on my phone, the bar maid turned the music up loud when I was on the phone and began speaking in an Irish accent (changing from a thick Gloucestershire accent). The first song that played was an Irish folk song that began with the lyrics “We don't care where you have been or what you have done”. After five minutes I realised they were playing IRA songs, I finished my pint of Coors larger and upon leaving, exiting I was insulted by a publican at the door. Arriving in Montpellier, I found a restaurant (Cote) and enjoyed French onion soup (my favourite) and a fish / potato dish. The waiter held back letting me have a table when I entered, but warmed after knowing there was a table available.

The rain hammered down as I left the restaurant, I walked along the park and entered a bar. The bar had a strange animosity present, and the whiskey (Dalmore) I usually order they claimed to no longer have stocked. Nearing ten o'clock, I exited and walked to Chalton Kings, I searched for a place to pitch my tent. Tired, I settled by the side of a cycleway, Although I can remember pitching my tent in the rain, I cannot remember going to sleep.

22nd

Woken at 6am, light rain moved over my tent, but I am dry. Last night, I pitched on Hartfell mountain because I desperately needed some undisturbed sleep to alleviate severe mental and physical exhaustion.

This morning I am rested, but my mind is disturbed, my life in ruin, grotesque sufferings poured into my hereafter in an attempt to deface me, in spite of my ancestral spirit. As I anticipated, the dew soaked me feet, socks and walking boots… so need a new pair!

Took a few pictures of the countryside on my way through Moffat towards the M74.

Walked straight through Moffat, and onto the M74 junction. The first lift took me to Penrith and was given by an elderly couple visiting friends in the lake district, they made me a cheese sandwich and gave an orange before we parted company. The last lift dropped me on the outskirts of Warwick and was given by a middle-aged Ayrshire man heading to Banbury.

Purchased a huge box of chips at the chipshed, the chips seemed old, were hard to swallow and gave me stomach cramps a short while after. Returning to the Grand Union Canal, I stopped at a pub named the King's head. I was served a pint by an effeminate Spanish man with an English accent, finding a seat I met a bored couple sitting opposite. The man was from Nottingham, and he worked at the Brush factory the same year as my mother was pregnant with me, she also worked at the Brush.

20th

Woken up alert with anxiety, tent was pitched outside Hutchinsons memorial bothy, thought I'd smell the shit pits possibly burried underneath the green grass but nothing. Being the first to leave I moved on from this location quite quickly, heading west for Braemar.

19th

An adder moved through my tent at night; and some wild animals visited my locality in the night, however I was not afraid because I know of humans to be much more dangerous.

I felt a part of my soul die here in Pitlochry, so I took a picture of the grave.

Placed a stone that I had found on the beach at Largs (Ayrshire) and placed it on a verdant tree stump, then sprinkled some fairy dust to honour the healing I felt from the woodland; I also noticed a dragon's head formed from a fallen tree stump.

But I am OK, because I know I can pull my ancestral spirit through this haplessness void of forsaken ancestral projection. I believe our future incarnate lives brought forward into our inherent future. To be fleeced of our inherent worth as our destinies defaced from our ancestral spirit by envious, alienating replacements, from a different timeline.

Wasted no time in walking out of Pitlochry, a man working by the loch attempted to turn me back, but I claimed the right to roam. He replied it was not applicable to commercial land, but I walked on anyway. Walked up the A9 until I came to a parking lay by and hitched a lift from a father and son travelling up to Inverness for a building job. They dropped me in Tesco's car park. I got provisions from the supermarket and began my walk to the Ski centre. I got a lift from a young man in a pickup on his way to Costa del Morlich. Furthermore, I went to see the Sami reindeer museum because I feel at home with the Sami people. Here I learned all the reindeer had died, the atmosphere was sullen. Stopped at a bar by the camp site after being told the management was comically coherent, only to discover a pushy bar man touting tired customers to drink more. I walked another mile and thumbed another lift to the ski centre.

Visited the café for a cup of tea before setting off on my journey to the summit of Ben MacDui (Scotland’s second-highest mountain).

I saw a few people descend, but nobody followed me up into these mountains (not even the infamous grey man!); it was quite late in the afternoon, so I assumed this to be the reason.

A, grey haired tall man in his mid-fifties walking a brown and white collie dog stopped to talk to me, he rubbed my ego a little too much which heightened by suspicions rather than provoked conversation. He said my backpack appeared heavy, then when he felt the weight seemed shocked, stating it must weigh at least 17lbs.

On the ascent I swear I saw and said hi to Doctor Who actors (but no migrant Dr Who that has recently been wrongfully claiming to be Scottish on Television) who were walking past me, then to confirm this I seen a TV camera man descending behind them, weird. The snow seemed a bit of a novelty as it is summer, thus the reason why I enjoyed walking over it.

At the summit I was joined by three or four birds who were very friendly. The views were clearer than the first time I visited this summit, but the camera on my old phone, an Iphone 7+ took much better photographs (five years ago) than what my Vollaphone does today.

Interesting and questioning to see that Scotlands second heightest mountain, Ben MacDui summit information stone was made in the multicultural ghetto of Lambeth, South London.

In the distance there was a man dressed all in black roaming around the western footpath; to his east I spotted five people camped by the lake. These five men from London explained the man in black was their friend who they claimed "was going through a midlife crisis"; joking I asked if he had a box of "Milk Tray" chocolates, the oldest member of the group got the joke.

I decided to go check Hutchinsons Memorial Bothy out.

Nearing the bothy, I could see it was occupied, by two Germans (male and female) sleeping inside and two Scotsmen sleeping outside in tents; all four walkers were friendly. On arriving I found them using the burn by the bothy, so warned them of about how the shit pits ran into it, advising them to use the main burn 50 yards away.

The two Germans were accommodating and let us use the bothy until they wished to go to sleep. I cooked some soup and drank coffee whilst the two Scotsmen, from Glasgow, shared a pan full of rice and beef to themselves. Another lady arrived and pitched her tent later on, but said nothing, just smiled, very creepy.

We spent the evening drinking wine, I gave the two Scotsman a Tarot reading. The Germans, although were civil, were not that associative, choosing to remain mostly outside until re-entering the bothy and demanding to use the space to go to bed. The Scotsmen departed saying “We've been told”. On the way out, the Scotsmen mocked the stone sculpture outside as Roland Rat; amused, I smirked to myself as I entered into my tent.