January 2024

27th

This afternoon, rambling along the Southern Upland Way

We visited the Three Brethren.

Common riding, Charlie said riders eat bacon butties here; wondering if they feed the mouse.

These cairns date back to the sixteenth century.

The walk took just over an hour, about two miles steady ascent along woodland path and road towards the summit.

Southern Upland Way descent towards Selkirk.

A wonderful view of the Elidons.

The weather was windy but dry.

We visited here last year, but only got as far as here.

Charlie stopped the 4x4 at the side of the road whilst I hopped out and quickly photographed the vacated Bernat Klein Studio, the vibe around this modernist building was unearthly, as if something terrible had happened within this vicinity.

Stupidity placing a water pool by the house, wood adjacent, what about the midges?

Building appears subsided; reminds me of a car park, akin to a school boiler house.

Returning through Selkirk, near the Hanning I thought of Charlie stopping the car, until we passed the garage above Selkirk; then the moment took leave from me.

26th

Serious headaches last night and this morning; I am wondering if the powerlines surrounding this farmhouse are the cause of this. Perhaps I should code this website in another room, or lead plate the wall to the right on me. We're at my flat in Hawick tonight as my headache is getting worse, tomorrow I'll be taking pictures; ABDL neighbour changed her Wifi message to "YouLearnedToBeAGoodNeighbourLOL"; I didn't know that WiFi ID's could be so long. I won't miss the awful smell rising up the stairwell from her flat, when alas I move away.

24th

Forced myself to go outside today, walked along the paddock, leaving the comfort of a warm open fire at the farmhouse.

This camera only has a 32x optical lens, although I am purchasing a bridge camera with stronger optical magnification soon. The picture below is at full magnification, which appears to lose light significantly.

A local farmer grazes his blackface sheep here.

Visited a neighbour (pictured below), he's 74 years old! We chatted about this and that, he made me a filter coffee sweetened with condensed milk and honey. He'd like to return home to Middlesborough; it's not easy being displaced, few friends, almost alone.

Reminance of a huge firecracker, thrown into our paddock.

Sheep are strange, in that I always learn something new about them, when I am observing them.

Mother ewes in this flock, located in the polytunnel are easy to photograph, they have known me for fourteen months.

This flock is mixed breed, although there are pedigree Teeswaters, Zwartble, Herdwick sheep within this herd. The tup was a pedigree Teeswater.

The sheep pictured below is chewing cud, they are being fed hay, tonight they are eating haylage.

Time to hang up my camera, and use my mobile phone. Snowdrops are out!

My iPhone is only a 12 megapixel camera, yet better than the 14 megapixels on this ole Olympus bridge camera.

The storm "Isha" blew off a gate and tore down a rose bush that I had saved from rose rust last year.

At dusk rabbits surfaced onto the paddock from their warrens as the moon risen from the north-eastern sky.

23rd

The storm has returned, and the field below woodburn is flooding again, the wind almost blew the 4x4 door off when I climbed out to take a photograph.

Charlie chased the wind blown car duster to some length down the lane.

21st

Journeyed to Bamborough to experience a stormy North Sea wind by the beach as everything has seemingly become, a wary numb lately. On the way we stopped at Spital beach, just south of Berwick on Tweed, Charlie played penny slot games, how long I thought, would they still be here, legacy of our people, here where they rested, and had fun, all but a bygone memory, as an apparition of ghosts, sidestepped, broken departed. Dismayed at a machine, my two pence had jammed, failing to land onto the moving shelf.

We intentionally avoided a tourist visit to Bamborough castle, instead opting to walk along part of the beach, named the Tumblers, a mile futher south along the link road. We desired a strong wind without rain, and that's what we found here, but abrassiveness from sand blowing harshness upon my face was, as a discomfort, unsettling upon my eyes. Through the sand dunes an opening revealled a choppy sea, beyond the shoreline, a outcrop of rocks, failing to grasp reach a lighthouse. I took some photographs, so did Charlie.

Returning North we deviated from the A1, choosing to go through Wooler and towards Yetholm. Hungry Charlie pulled over the 4x4 alongside the river Till and from the boot of the car, camp stove reheated a pan of Cullen Skink I'd previously cooked yesterday evening. By this time events around us were becoming strange, begining with a slow drive by black car passing us atleast six times. I couldn't help but wounder if this was due to some cranks esoteric interest in the cone pillar, stone bridge we had just driven over.

This soup had added Salmon, but no smoked haddock, does this still count as Cullen skink? maybe not but tasted delicious anyhow.

Wasn't expecting a hot cup of coffee also.

Leaving the area we noticed we had stopped to rest along Saint Cuthberts way. Called into Yetholm at the Plough Inn, Charlie enjoyed bitter, myself Guinness with Dalmore chaser.

Big storm blowing throughout the Scottish Borders, wind and rain is rushing about walls, tearing across field, the Borthwick water below has burst banks. About eight inch deep for 1/6 of a mile, but thankfully could not lift our 4x4 from the direction. I posted a short reel on Facebook, readers were shocked, I don't know anywhere else that experiences this; although throughout the valley there are houses along the haugh, beside winding bends that could be in danger, if flooding as a release had not happened here.

18th

As I mentioned a month ago; I suspected my smelly ass flat neighbour to be an adult baby, this morning I found an admission from her broadcast over Wi-Fi ID. She hates my fella, makes jibes at his "heavy feet" [he's six foot four] despite a death wrenching smell seeping into the stairwell every time she opens her door. She has a man in a black Jaguar bring her nappies and shopping, two months ago he took out fifty plus bin liners overspilling with soiled nappies from her smelly flat. The pungent odour was that bad I purchased air fresheners.

He tells me she suffers from OCD, then apologises for her washing my door until there was water inside the security looking glass. She has scabs all over her shaved head, I don't believe she washes, ever. It makes me feel ill to think, for the last year I lived above thousands of soiled nappies. I used to believe she was ill, but now I know she's an appalling degenerate, a scheiß hausmeister. Officially homeless [Charlie lives at the farmhouse] I've been waiting to be rehoused fourteen months in this emergency accommodation.