May 2024

31st

The thing is with this anxiety is that there is no relief, even though I know this fear is unsubstantiated, the anxieties play on as if nothing else mattered but fear. It isn't that I fear, Charlie says I don't fear, but when I believe I am anxious, I dissociate from the fear. psychosomatic symptoms of "should I stay or should I go" hyper-vigilance are present, but worn away from being the unyielding torment of irrational indecisive projection.

The weather was mild, I enjoyed walking though Hawick high street, near Common Haugh entered a local butchers and purchased a steak pie, shopping locally, when possible is a necessity for me, I like to see who is making and supplying my food.

I enjoyed the walk along this nature trail, commencing by a bend in the river at the beginning of Wilton Lodge Park. The footpath inclines and shadowed by trees invoking thoughtful solitude and cooling calmness.

The trail cleared and conjoined onto a quiet countryside lane at Wilton Dean village. I walked down into Hawick as I needed some ingredients to compliment the steak pie I'd purchased from the butchers; looking forward to cooking this for Charlie tonight.

Charlie enjoyed his cooked meal, I nagged him off the couch so we could walk off the calories. I've lived on this estate a year and a half, I am happily leaving in three days; I've made no meaningful friendships, despite attempts to befriend cold shouldered neighbours.

28th

Busy day, been weeding our kitchen garden, we have so many vegetables to plant this year at Woodburn Farmhouse.

We baited the flock with ewe pellets, from the paddock onto the farm drive way. Charlie trimmed the hoofs of two ewes; a sick cade lamb (yesterday, too week to stand up) was dagged and has now returned to drinking bottled milk; which appears to be working.

Zwartble mother ewe is almost ready to go, just her lamb that requires ear identification tags before boarding, to go through livestock passport control.

The law of the land states that all livestock are required to have numbers, and to transport them, a livestock movement book is required.

Our friend could not find the padlock key to the field so we lifted the sheep over the gate one by one. The Zwartble mother ewe waited as we unloaded her lamb.

Early evening the rain ceased, so I strimmed the remaining dock leaves from the paddock, bringing the job earlier than tomorrows planned date. I was so tired when I came down from the hill, Charlie helped me drop the strimmer, kindly brushed down my clothes before I changed to rid myself of the grass pollen that was making me sneeze. I'd been using the strimmer for over two hours, my body would not shaking. I covered myself up on this occasion as I am allergic to the grass pollen; with the effect of making my skin swell to the appearance of Cellulitis.

The doctor at A&E thought I suffered this but tests returned a negative result; however anti-histamines (piriteze) took the swelling down.

Wonder how many other fifty year old women use a strimmer for hours at a time? We purchased a petrol strimmer as the dock leaf infestation on the paddock is bewildering, the lambs have not faired well grazing; feels as though the farmhouse paddock has been cursed; as the lambs at our other two grass keeps are in good condition.

23rd

My emergency accomodation located in the Silverbutthall area of Hawick; kindly provided by Scottish Borders council.

Although the neighbours were ignorant and unfriendly, this was a warm and safe haven from the harsh reality of homelessness.

17th

Today we awoken inside a hotel in Leicester from visiting Charles parents and sibling brother near Coventry. We travelled travelled to M1 via Loughborough, taking pictures along the way. We departed from a delicious breakfast at Leicester University's College Court hotel driving toward Loughborough along the A6; briefly stopping in Highfield's to capture a picture of a ex-children's home building that I'd been a resident around thirty six years ago.

The experience was spooky, as memories surfaced as an ongoing apparitions; of disturbed children who lived there with my disturbances. I was resettled here from the Holt and The experience was spooky, as memories surfaced as an ongoing apparitions; of disturbed children who lived there with my disturbances wrought from surviving a single parent, paranoid schizophrenic mother from four to eleven years old. Tried to kill a canvassing MP.

was resettled here from the Holt and Dumblane Avenue children's homes before being moved into "leaving care" hostel accommodation down Highfields Street, into a poky room inside a terrace house located along Gopsal Street. Half an hour later in Rusheymead I was surprised to find Dumblane Avenue still functioning as a children's home after talking to a residential social worker during his cigarette break at the homes gate. Talking to him felt strange, for a moment we thought we recognised each other, his staunch demeanour was that of a handler; which, on gaining retrospective, his presence made me feel uneasy.

Between the age of 11 and 15 I had fifty-two moves whilst placed into "in care" of social services, from then on I became a new age traveller. I did not attempt to look at the Holt two miles away in Birstall, probably because I was abused there. Ten miles drive away, we arrived in Loughborough our next stop, the Great Central Railway museum station. Other than being born in this town and living in the area Thorpe Arce for the first four years of my life, I lived at a foster home, a hostel in Shelthorpe and two B&Bs along the A6. We found the Great Central Railway to be closed, returning I requested if I could take a picture of the wooden booking office, a museum curator then kindly granted me and Charlie access.

Despite an abysmal childhood and ailing adult mental health I feel both a sense of pride and fascination at my birth towns history. The openness of the museum left me reversely tearful in contrast to my encounter with the residential social worker at Dumblane Ave. We found walking down the stairwell and onto the platform almost a step back in time. I was taken aback by our then rich ancestral history and how we'd expanded the rail network. Returning to the Kiosk on our way out I made a small donation, the curator then opened the museum for us, inside was displayed a wealth of history, and also an information film.

Leaving the museum, we had to notify the curator so that he could lock up the museum. I had a lot of problems when I lived at a ground floor flat in Freehold Street, a mere quarter of a mile from this museum; every Sunday a group of people would break bread outside my kitchen window. This flat, emergency shelter provided by the council was also broken into, and frequented regularly by intruders that stole nothing other than my locks of hair that I'd tied to a copper pipe in my airing cupboard. I have terrible memories of this town, that by birth should have been my home. Returning to Loughborough years later I could see why anti-christ Remphan cult wanted me absent, to associate all their disgusting ritualised abuses.

We had arrived in Loughborough on a Thursday, market day, consumers (including my mother) used to travel into the town from satellite villages to shop here. There is a statue called the Sock Man Statue that I in view of the disturbances I experienced in this town, nicked named INGSOC; the statue is told to represent the now defunct hosiery trade (work outsourced to Asia) my mother worked at Mansfield Hosieries, Charter house and Rob Roy. My flat on Freehold Street was situated a stone throw away from Taylors bell makers; They cast the great bell for Saint Paul's Cathedral, London.

The original cast for this bell can be viewed from within Victoria Park. I took a picture of the Bastard gates as we drove passed Loughborough University; I had planned to visit Bradgate Park but began returning to the Scottish Borders after turning back at Oaks in Charnwood.

Bastard gates.

Noticed they'd built the hated incinerator in the old tarmac quarry, because Shepshed's cursed destiny is to burn in rubbish. The journey north along the M1 motorway was congested, and Charlie raged at the fuel prices. We saved four pounds by travelling a mile to a petrol station from the A1 at Scotch corner A66.

15th

Today I met Charlie's parents.

I also met his brother.

13th

I'm fifty years old today, never thought I'd get to live to this age, I'll say now that it doesn't feel much different; although I noticed my turning forty significantly more.

Today Charlie woke me with coffee, blew up six birthday balloons upon a table and presented me with a card and cake; he makes me feel special, even on his off days.

Later he drove me to Grey Mare's Tail, a 200 ft waterfall near Moffat. He wanted walk to the top, I insisted he go ahead when I had to turn back as stomach pains became worst a quarter of the way to the top. I enjoyed the walk, the air and views; took pictures of goats and the waterfall. Charlie walked down with me, we both appreciated the ascetic scenery.

We drove into Moffat, browsed some shops, enjoyed takeaway lunch at a bakery before visiting Moffat museum. The model railway was really quite something, although not presently working; before departing we talked to two friendly volunteers before signing the guest book. I also visited my pottery friends, she gave me a bar of soap for my birthday.

During the day I received well wishes from three friends on Facebook; returning to Roberton we stopped to view the Devil's Beeftub and read about it's fascinating history. Also along the way we viewed the calming valley's along breezy Talla and Megget waters.

Woodburn farmhouse is looking tidy, late afternoon I planted a flower Charlie bought me at Moffat Garden centre; were having a cooked meal and a stress free quiet night in tonight.

11th

The Scottish Borders town of Hawick is saddling up for Common Riding; a few days ago the Cornet was picked.

As a centuries-old tradition and considering Common Riding brings money into Hawick and other towns within the Scottish Borders.

I've learned much about the riding during the year and a half I've lived in Hawick. Hawick's monuments are Anglo-phobic, and if I were to look deeper I'd probably surmise Common Riding to be a now inert reverence of human hunting (akin to fox hunting ride out), be either the quarry rievers, clans, or English men.

The "Return from Hornshole" statue, was funded by the Common Riding Committee of Hawick. The statue celebrates the slaughter of a group of sleeping English "soldiers" whilst they were camped overnight at Hornshole. During Hawick's Common Riding, the chosen Cornet carries a replica of this very flag. The flag belonged to Hexham Abbey, dedicated to "St Andrew" (St Andrew is celebrated as patron Saint of Scotland).

I have discussed the event with local people, and they say the tradition is more anti-women than anti-English; either way, I won't be joining in this year, or the next. Unlike other phobias, Anglophobia correlates with a strong sense of Scottish identity [Hussain and Millar 2005 study, Department of Politics at the University of Glasgow].

Scottish Nationalism rooted in the hatred of English is comparable to Jewish identity being rooted in the hatred of Gentiles.

Indeed, many visitors who arrive in Scotland, some as tourists, have referred to the battle of Coloden visitors centre as Scotland's "Auschwitz"; a view I believe ignorant, but isn't this about ignorance? Perhaps relevant is a quote from former Scottish Journalist of the Year Kevin McKenna via an article in The National labelling English people living in Scotland as:

Colonising wankers

It's difficult to ascertain this to be true or not as I've made no Scottish friends since I came to the borders a year and a half ago, and the eight English friends I've made whilst living within the Scottish Borders have made no Scottish friends either; and they've been living here in Scotland for many, many years. If Jesus returned English, they'd hunt him as Satan.

7th

Mind your waist line if you purchase one of these!

From Beattie’s Bakes in Langholm!

4th

Fruit cake is easy to make and does not require a food processor. I pulled this recipe originally from the BBC and modified it.

Recipe

Heat the oven to 180C. And butter and circular cake tin. Melt the sugar, butter and 225ml water in a large saucepan. Once melted, add the mixed fruit. Bring to a gentle boil, and stirring occasionally, cook until reduced and softened, around 10-15 mins. Remove from the heat and leave to cool to room temperature.

Tip the flour, mixed spice, bicarbonate of soda and a pinch of salt into a large bowl.

Add the cooled fruit mixture (takes a good while to cool off!) and stir, then add the eggs and mix to combine.

Immediately after stirring pour out the mixture into a cake tin and place in a preheated oven for 80 mins until dark brown. Insert skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Leave to cool in the tin for 10 mins, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Fruit cake tastes better the longer it is left to stand.

A work in progress in my flat kitchen (emergency accomadation in Hawick).

I recommend waiting 3-4 days to cut the cake into slices and serve.

3rd

Ewes and lambs are starting to suffer with sore hoofs, and some have mucky bums; this is a usual for spring time.

Whilst the flock is distracted with feeding from the trough Charlie pulls out sheep that require treatment; usually involving dagging (also known as crutching) and hoof trimming / spraying. Wet ground of the Scottish Borders makes sheep susceptible to Strawberry foot.

He caught a Charolais X Herdwick Teg and trimmed, sprayed her hoofs with violet. She's been lamb for a while so this was a wee bit overdue. She is the only sheep not to have lambed or been in lamb this year.

Happy to know at least one frog in the front garden pond has survived the onslaught of hungry badgers whom nightly frequent, during midnight hour, Woodburn farm. We believe there is a set by our redundant ex-barn. The landlord took possession of this barn to sell additional land to a greedy property developer; hence why we now have a poly tunnel.

This the last cade lamb to be bottle fed, and his last night being bottle fed. This lamb nearly died twice. He bloats out in the shape of a huge egg after feeding him his bottled milk. Bluebells have appeared by the South West side of the Farmhouse front garden.

2nd

With the flock grazing at grass keep Charlie's been busy mucking out the poly tunnel, he says the job is a marathon and not a sprint.

Glad to see our lambs have been making use of a tractor trailer to shelter from the rain.

We had to jump start the tractor today, the battery is flat. Charlie found the ignition had been switched on; we believe a trespasser I witnessed run off attempted to steal it.

The tractor started with just a few turns, so we continued to spread muck onto the paddock.

He's made a dent in the muck pile already. The poly tunnel was purpose built to the size of the tractor and trailer. It's better to muck out this time of year, less horrible swarm of flies.

1st

This morning I walked to the top of the farmhouse paddock and observed a golden sunlight; during late afternoon, a haze settled in the valley; I walked around checking the welfare of our lambs, they're looking great, and I have benefited from healing being around and about these animals.

It's been a quiet May day, I did not associate with any morris dancing or druid rituals as I used to do. Those days have gone, I am relieved to not be about them.