Ride out

I rode from my house towards the A68 following a footpath just over Ancrum bridge. The footpath was narrow, and broken with fallen trees.

There were many ruined buildings here, I stopped, gazed wondering who must of lived in them.

These huge leaves, I believe they are named "elephant ears" and are believed to be invasive. I've also found Balsam here, on the banks of the River Teviot, near Monteviot.

The path was narrow all the way through, but the incline to the left grew steep; clinging on to abrupt right side corners.

In places the bracken was so thick I could not see my body or feet, but was passable.

This hill became steep, but from the photo you can't tell; the purple of this flower against the green is a favourite observance of mine.

Before leaving the woodland I found this old yew tree.

We've (me and Charlie) have seen this countryside passing by many times from the A68.

The journey here was full of obstructions, gorse, huge puddles, mud and stones.

The short but steep hill climbs were exhausting but exercise is needed. I had to push my bike three quarters of the way; lifting the bikes heavy frame over styles and wire fencing.

Many stones in line together, appear to be strategic fortifications.

Murky dank by the bank of Ale water, hung out stagnant, thus became parched of flow. Even here I am socially marginalised, stigmatised and isolated as though I don't exist.

Who is my oppressor, I've seen her, driven around, cycling ruin upon this shipwrecked life, whist enablers sport psychological terror, dissolving my soul unto grotesque desires of this interloper; this misgiving will not tolerate me, or you, living as anything other than zombies, dead do we walk this dire void, despised lifeless by hapless marginalisations. No ending is there to this mortal sin, as subordinated people tolerate dispossession of our beginnings. Riding through Ancrum village I sensed deviancy, prevailing pretence as an optimism, bound in earnest, that something, beyond social fakery exists. With some sadness I've concluded my neighbour (east of my house) doth despise English people.

This house "should have been given to local people", said she as a partisan; misgiving her formality, civility unto another, that grievously malformed her psyche with criticality. Irony of this neighbour, subjectively placed between my oppressor indirectly hating me through discordant hatred she defiantly placed within others, manifest from her fragility.