Yup Bod I was in having a left total hip replacement. They used that bushcrafters favourite metal a Titanium one with ceramic bearings. It's a pretty fantastic piece of kit, feeling solid already.Funny talking about how words making pictures. Whenever I hear someone talking about nice prose I always have a laugh inside as it makes me think of one of Slim Pickens lines from Blazing Saddles. "Why you use your mouth purdier than a two dollar W***e" Maybe not appropriate but makes me giggle.Cheers for the kind words folks, it's great getting out to be able to share with the folk who kept me going with their tales and adventures when I was stuck inside. Cheers,GB.
The Longest Day.
- Thread starter Goatboy
- Start date
Sitting here embarrassed at myself for the times i complain about my dissolving spine problem (lost 5cm in height in last 18 months), you look no older than me GB, what did you do repetitively to make your hip go? Were you a twist and jive champion or summick? My back was caused by too many years working in offices in poor quality chairs with no support, on my bad days i move like a 90 year old who never exercised a day in their lives and on my good days i move like a 60 year old who never exercised, i possibly swear more whilst doing the moving though
Always a good day when you can spend it with a good dog. Glad you had such a day, and doubly glad you shared it.
Thanks for editing the OP to finish, I was waiting 'on pins and needles' for the ending! Colin, great to see you are on the mend and I wish you all the best in getting back on your feet. I also want to encourage you to continue writing and please give us more! Your ability as a 'wordsmith' in capturing the natural world around you is as welcome and fitting here as the work of the bladesmiths, the blacksmiths, knappers, the carvers, the weavers, the firecrafters, the campers, the hill walkers, the 'old schoolers', the minimalists, the ultra lighters, the stalkers and hunters, etc., etc. Thanks and do offer us more of your writing style!
Thank you all again for your kind words. I suppose I take a bit of time to think about things when I'm out as I'm so slow these days. And GTBod you've every right to complain with what you described; that must be excruciating. I don't know about you but it was the frustration of not being able to do things any more which got to me most. Luckily when bad I had a good mate Bezeebob23 helped me out camping. Putting up the tent and so on. gone quietly mad otherwise. It was lymes disease that did for me. It got really bad about 7 years ago giving me heart and organ failure and getting into my joints. But luckily they've been putting me back together and I'm feeling pretty darn good. What's the long term for your good self? I've a friend in the next village who has back problems and has taken to using a hammock (and shorter distances) and it seems to be working for them.Will continue to keep writing, I do enjoy it. English, Tech Drawing & the three sciences + history all being strong favourites all those moons ago at school. Enjoy all your trip reports too. During times I couldn't get out, I lived vicariously through those reports as a form of escape.Cheers again.GB.
TurboGirl
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
I had a little read-around of the symproms and prevention of Lyme disease, I knew little more than to check for ticks, how to remove them and the rash appearance. The NHS choices is a good couple of pages on it if anyone else is interested 
Meanwhile reading about your recovery is a damn fine kick up the ar5e for us well ones who probably don't appreciate our health as well as you and our Bod do after being deprived of it! I just can't wait for you to go out on another walk to get those literary juices flowing for us again
Meanwhile reading about your recovery is a damn fine kick up the ar5e for us well ones who probably don't appreciate our health as well as you and our Bod do after being deprived of it! I just can't wait for you to go out on another walk to get those literary juices flowing for us again
You hit the nail on the head there GB, it was the reduction in being able to do all the things i took for granted that knocked me for six, i can't walk more than 10 meters without a lot of discomfort, doesn't stop me as often as it used too but at first my mind crumbled when i spent 3 month bedridden.
I have decided to learn to live with it and adapt about 2 years back when the surgeon i had waited a year to see told me he had a 50/50 chance of making it better or worse, i told him if he was an electrician i had hired to fix a toaster and he said that i wouldn't let him near the toaster in a hundred years, for some reason my attitude surprised him, he wanted to split my ribcage at the bottom rib to gain access into my spinal column and remove bits of the herniated disc to see if it had a positive effect on my pain levels and walking ability!!!! Idiot if i could at the time i would have punched him right in the kisser as i had waited a year hoping for to see a real surgeon and the reality was just a slap to my positivity.
I am off to read the nhs links to Lyme disease (cheers TurboGirl), massive respect from Geordieland here GB, that must have been some serious physical and mental battle you have fought to get where you are now, I had asked you in pm how it had happened before i had seen your response in this thread.
Like yourself i have a true legend as a saviour who has also carried my kit many times and put things up like tents and tarps and that is my brother, my legend
Ol'e babyface there on my left
I have decided to learn to live with it and adapt about 2 years back when the surgeon i had waited a year to see told me he had a 50/50 chance of making it better or worse, i told him if he was an electrician i had hired to fix a toaster and he said that i wouldn't let him near the toaster in a hundred years, for some reason my attitude surprised him, he wanted to split my ribcage at the bottom rib to gain access into my spinal column and remove bits of the herniated disc to see if it had a positive effect on my pain levels and walking ability!!!! Idiot if i could at the time i would have punched him right in the kisser as i had waited a year hoping for to see a real surgeon and the reality was just a slap to my positivity.
I am off to read the nhs links to Lyme disease (cheers TurboGirl), massive respect from Geordieland here GB, that must have been some serious physical and mental battle you have fought to get where you are now, I had asked you in pm how it had happened before i had seen your response in this thread.
Like yourself i have a true legend as a saviour who has also carried my kit many times and put things up like tents and tarps and that is my brother, my legend
Ol'e babyface there on my left
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TurboGirl
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
See what you mean about the cleanshaven look on your little bro, BodOl'e babyface there on my left
Yeah I do bang on about Lymes disease to folk as it's on the up and the consequences can be pretty dire for folk. It's so easily treatable too if you catch it.
My heart goes out to you GGTBod, it can be so frustrating when you cant get to see the right folk. A doctor I no longer see sat looking off to one side saying "I don't know what to do" when I went to see him when my hip got infected and was saveable at the time if he'd acted. (Well blinking refer me to someone who does or ask a colleague). So saying the other NHS help and treatment I've received has been unparalleled. The cardiac and orthopaedic teams have made such a difference, it's like someone turned a switch and I've got my life and vitality back. Though as the physiotherapist said the first day up after the op, it's your hip joint, you'll get out what you put in and true enough I was the first one on my feet and running 'round the hospital grounds before the others were getting to the end of the ward. I hope you get to see someone who doesn't want to perform what sounds like a "blood eagle" on you for the fun of it. And it's good that your little babyfaced brother is helping you get out. Having that sort of help really is a lifesaver and folks like him and Belzeebob who helped me should have rewards heaped on them in this life and the next as far as I'm concerned.
Since you seem to be enjoying the literary bent of the OP I'll promise to get out more and keep posting. It's good encouragement to get me out there.
Cheers,
GB.
My heart goes out to you GGTBod, it can be so frustrating when you cant get to see the right folk. A doctor I no longer see sat looking off to one side saying "I don't know what to do" when I went to see him when my hip got infected and was saveable at the time if he'd acted. (Well blinking refer me to someone who does or ask a colleague). So saying the other NHS help and treatment I've received has been unparalleled. The cardiac and orthopaedic teams have made such a difference, it's like someone turned a switch and I've got my life and vitality back. Though as the physiotherapist said the first day up after the op, it's your hip joint, you'll get out what you put in and true enough I was the first one on my feet and running 'round the hospital grounds before the others were getting to the end of the ward. I hope you get to see someone who doesn't want to perform what sounds like a "blood eagle" on you for the fun of it. And it's good that your little babyfaced brother is helping you get out. Having that sort of help really is a lifesaver and folks like him and Belzeebob who helped me should have rewards heaped on them in this life and the next as far as I'm concerned.
Since you seem to be enjoying the literary bent of the OP I'll promise to get out more and keep posting. It's good encouragement to get me out there.
Cheers,
GB.
It's simple things man like you still have the inner strength to empathise with others sufferings even though they are climbing molehills compared to your sheer cliff faces, huge respect for that and massive amounts of kudos to you.
My bro is a good bloke but you would not think there is only 2 years age difference (obv me the eldest hahahaha incase anyone didn't get that from the picture), best part is for him that helping me do all my mad things got him doing them and he didn't at the start realise he was gonna love it possibly more than i do and the amount of times he comes to my house and there is a pile of things on the floor related to us starting a new hobby that i bought in one of my moments of madness and he is all too keen to get stuck in, well everything except parascending hahaha i can't get him to help me do that as he is convinced we'll do ourselves in for good so i have never forked out the couple of grand to get us the needed kit, i'm working on him though as originally he said the same about kayaking.
Keep fighting the good fight GB
My bro is a good bloke but you would not think there is only 2 years age difference (obv me the eldest hahahaha incase anyone didn't get that from the picture), best part is for him that helping me do all my mad things got him doing them and he didn't at the start realise he was gonna love it possibly more than i do and the amount of times he comes to my house and there is a pile of things on the floor related to us starting a new hobby that i bought in one of my moments of madness and he is all too keen to get stuck in, well everything except parascending hahaha i can't get him to help me do that as he is convinced we'll do ourselves in for good so i have never forked out the couple of grand to get us the needed kit, i'm working on him though as originally he said the same about kayaking.
Keep fighting the good fight GB
TurboGirl
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
I didn't realise until I read the link that the Lymes itself saps that badly, beyond a physical side effect of the incapacity it causes... much like shingles and its tendancy to cause deep depression? Perhaps its the nerve damage which I guess is a similarity of both the diseases effect.
Bod you might not have GBs literative turn of phrase, but for the ability to cut to the chase and say clearly what everyone feels, clearly and consisely... top marks
Woke up to the sunlight glowing through the curtains with a portent for a beautiful day. Knew that my usual companion on the planned walk had other plans as his owners were taking him away for the day. So ideas forming in my head to do something different while I had a wash and shave; I went through a mental checklist.
Was feeling slightly under the weather, a scratchy throat and a bunged up nose. Hadn't had a cold in a couple of years so decided to assault it with plenty of fresh fruit. Ablutions over I turned on the radio (Radio 4 as usual) and listened to the news as I went into the kitchen and made some breakfast. Put the kettle on the stove to boil up some water and got the oatmeal out. Porridge ready; I like it fairly plain, no milk or sugar/salt, just oats and boiled water, with a side of some fresh fruit and a cup of boiled water. Also made a pot of tea and left it to cool to take with me on my wander.
Brakfast over and full of oatmeal, cherries, blueberries and an orange plus the small handfull of tablets I have to take, got dressed and got ready to pack my bag.
Rather than my usual Barbour shooting satchel I dug out my old nordic canvas and leather military rucksack which I'd picked up for £5. Not the comfiest bag but I like the size of it and the leather has that old burnished quality to it like an old conker that appeals to me. In went a light jacket, some oatcakes, tomatoes, wee peppermill, a couple of apples and a bottle of tea that was cooled nicely. I also decided to take my small scetch pad, pencils, rubber and spotting scope. Swithered about taking my big binoculars instead and although lovely, my old rubber armoured Carl Zeiss Jena 8x50's weight very heavily after a while toddling about. Also popped in my Hudson Bay fire kit and my sheath knife. Decided to leave out my wee camera and my MP3 player. As a last thought threw in the remaining blueberries in a little tub. Dilled up my pockets with the usuall stuff like Opinel knife, lighter, tablets and decided to take my tobaco tin along for a wee treat of a smoke after lunch.
Pack on picked up my sticks and headed out the door. Sunlight hit me full in the face and immediately warmed me. A few early insects flitting about and the proverbial early birds after their breakfast on the other side of the burn across from my front door. Got into the rythem of walking with the sticks as I trundled up the road to the first of the many bridges in the village. There's around a dozen little bridges and I spend an inordinate amount of time leaning over them peering into the gurgling water below. Watching the little trout, dippers, kingfishers and occasional otter. Snoop my old dog had also spent a lot of time hunting the river bank and had cleared the area of rats and a couple of mink which seem not to have returned despite his passing. I also find the polarized lenses in my sungigs help in seeing through the glare into the depths below.
The morning sun is hitting a fence that one of my neighbors was creosoting yesterday and the wonderful smell of it is wafting through the still morning air. It's not a smell that everyone likes but it transports me back to being a kid and the smell of the tar bubbling up through the cassies (Cobbles) that we played with as children in those seemingly endless summer holidays. A quick keek over the bridge to see if there's any fish and I'm rewarded with a few of the little mottled hunters facing into the current, keeping in place with so little effort as they wait for food to come their way.
Into the back fields and the path is begining to peter out. The rain of the other day has made everything very lush. It's going to be good year for silage which should keep the farmers happy. The profusion of wild flowers, reeds, meadow sweet and clover are making a heady perfume as I brush through them. But I'm picking my way through, partly so I don't snag my sticks but also to avoid the heavier concentrations of coockoo spit that I've had a mild aversion to since I was a kid. Patches of it are pretty heavy and I know it's harmless but it's making the place look like the front row of a Sex Pistols gig. It also makes me think of all those chiefs on telly who seem to insist on putting foams on their food. Although I love to cook I don't like those foams, it makes it look like someone has cleared their throat on the food to me and isn't very palatable. (And don't get me started on "crushed potatoes"; you either mash them properly or you don't!)
I cross over the dual carraigeway, still quiet at this time of the day and take up the path through the lush thigh high grass growing there. The lovely feathery seed heads of it tickle my hands as I pass through and in to the woodland at the damaged piece of fence.
It's immediately cooler in here and the smells change as a slight scent of fungi gets mixed in with the foliage of the mixed conifers. The birds are flitting from branch to branch up in the canopy. Letting me catch glimpses of them as they dart about. At a damp patch near the burn I come across some relatively fresh deer slots where they've stopped for a drink before crossing. So if I keep quiet I may get to see them in the wood rather than feeding out in the fields.
Picking my way between branches as silently as I can I do come across the deer, not in the woods though, they're nibbling at the luxuriant growth along the edge of the woodland. Some feeding while others look about, taking it in turns to watch for predators that aren't going to come for them.
There isn't a huge amount of life on the forest floor in here, apart from where the wind has carved out openings allowing the sunlight in. These oasis are filled with vegitation and birdlife chasing the insects. But I want to get out onto open hillside and keep heading up. Break out into sunlight again and a fresh breeze is keeping the insects down.
Looking over to Glen Bee (in contention for the smallest Glen in Scotland) and Wether Hill there's a dark cloud hanging over them. Usually weather sitting over those two will hit the village in about ten to twenty minutes but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere fast. I always wonder if it's called Wether Hill for this reason or if one of the locals was just winding up the cartographers when they visited to collect names all those years back. Sounds like a Highland sense of humour to me. It may be dark over there but the skys blue everywhere else and I stop to put my hat on to save getting too much sun. Decide to head east towards the remains of Castle Oglive. Theres not much of it left and it's not shown on most scales of map but it's a nice place to stop and it takes me past some plants I want to check in on. I get to a long dip running down the slope of the hill and check in on the sloe bushes growing in profusion there. Going by the flower show they put on earlier in the year it should be a good crop this year and thoughts of sloe gin filling my head I head on to the headgerow where there's a few gooseberry bushes growing. The bushes are pretty heavy with fruit but it's not ready to tingle my tongue with its sweet tartness yet. Though I do pick a couple of the hard wee berries and the astringent taste makes my mouth initially dry before the moisture comes flooding back. I head up to the remaining corner of the castle and sit on some of the grass covered tumbled down stones. I like it here, it's always quiet and I rarely see anyone. Having spoken to folk in the village most of them don't seem to know it's here, screened off from the village by some tall broadleaves half way up the hill. I take out my spotting scope and using it's magnification pop in on a small gull colony across the valley in a boggy patch by the railway. The birds are busy quarrling with each other as they go about raising their young. The young are too well camoflaged at this distance for me to see but I can tell where they are by the actions if the parents. There's an early plane up from Strathallen Airfield, but no parachutists this early. Watch the plane lazily go through it's paces and wonder if the P51 Mustang will beat up the Glen today. It's always exciting when this WWII relic powers up the valley seaming to come out of no-where, low enough for it's huge engine to make your chest cavity throb when it's overhead before disapearing off making you glad that it wasn't hunting ground targets like it could during it's glory days.
Been out a while and it's taken me longer to get here than I thought it would. Decide to have an early lunch and get out my bottle of cold tea for a swig. Some folk wonder about the cold black tea, but it was fairly common amongst farmers to take a bottle during the summer as it seems to open the pores and cool you down. Also get out the oatcakes and tomatoes. Slice up the tomatoes with my trusty Opinel, it's thin sharp blade easing through the firm but ripe flesh with ease. I do like toms, one of my favourite fruit and on oatcakes with fresh milled black pepper they're hard to beat. Agian it's something some folks find strange that I'll carry a wee peppermill up a hill but it's so much nicer when freshly done and the mill weighs next to nothing. Sit munching away, the breeze keeping the insects away from me, watching life go by. Great stuff. After I've eaten I get out my pad and pencils and decide to do a couple of sketches. I used to draw a lot and it's something I've been trying to get back into of late. There's something about the soft graphite on the textured paper that helps give form to what I'm trying to capture. After a few scribbles of the standing walls of the castle I move on to some of the flowers that surround me and get lost trying to capture the detail of a little speedwell that's taken my fancy. Coming out of my concentration I decide that I need a bit more practice before I start showing my work to folk again but I've enjoyed it. I find that looking so hard at something that initially seems so small and simple really broadens the senses. I know that I pay more attention to whats around me than a lot of folk but getting lost like that in something is a very nice way to spend some time.
Some movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention and slowly turning around there's a red squirrel sitting about twenty five yards away from me. I've seen a few reds using the drystane dykes that run up and down the hills here as corridors between the stands of timber. And they can be quite tame. I very slowly reach towards the wee punnet of blueberries that are sitting out beside me and flick a couple with my thumb towards it like tossing a coin for heads or tails. At first I think it's going to take flight as the berries land between the two of us. But he slowly settles down and moves to investigate. I stay very still as he comes nearer and he picks up one of the blueberries after a cursery sniff. He pops it into his teeth and retreats a bit before stopping and sitting side on takes it out of his mouth and begins to eat it. He repeats this again and again 'till he's eaten all of the fruit and given me a huge smile for the day. It won't be long before the slopes are covered in blaeberries for him to munch on to his hearts content but it was nice that he was prepared to share my lunch with me. It's always such a privalage when a wild animal overcomes its natural distrust of us humans and is prepared to interact with us. Realising that his free lunch is over he moves back to the dyke and heads back to the trees. After he's safely ensconced in it's branches I slowly pack up deciding that I won't get far enough today to get to the bigger patch of gooseberry bushes to see how they're getting on. I'm stiff from sitting as I stand up and swing my pack on. Pick up my sticks and wonder how much longer I'll be using them. I'm already hobbling 'round the house with one or none but still feel the need for two when I'm outside. Still I feel I'm making good progress but have walked far enough for the day so will head back.
As I reach the village it's come to life since I left this morning. There's a few folk milling about in their gardens and out walking dogs. I say hello and get greeted by the pooches. I bump into Jake and his owner Iain. Jakes a lab/lurcher cross, a huge black hairy imitation of a wolfhound and one of the friendliest souls on the planet. When he see's me at a distance he quickly accelerates up to warp speed to come and say hello. Being a softie he stops short so he doesn't knock me over then gambols round me like a spring lamb, kicking his legs out belying his age and thinking he's still a puppy. Iain catches up and we chat for a while, me telling him about the squirrel and him talking about his house in France that he's doing up for his retirement.
Back at home I unpack my bag and decide I need a seat. Still got a huge chunk of the day left. I could weed the garden but I'd better leave some things to do tomorrow!
Was feeling slightly under the weather, a scratchy throat and a bunged up nose. Hadn't had a cold in a couple of years so decided to assault it with plenty of fresh fruit. Ablutions over I turned on the radio (Radio 4 as usual) and listened to the news as I went into the kitchen and made some breakfast. Put the kettle on the stove to boil up some water and got the oatmeal out. Porridge ready; I like it fairly plain, no milk or sugar/salt, just oats and boiled water, with a side of some fresh fruit and a cup of boiled water. Also made a pot of tea and left it to cool to take with me on my wander.
Brakfast over and full of oatmeal, cherries, blueberries and an orange plus the small handfull of tablets I have to take, got dressed and got ready to pack my bag.
Rather than my usual Barbour shooting satchel I dug out my old nordic canvas and leather military rucksack which I'd picked up for £5. Not the comfiest bag but I like the size of it and the leather has that old burnished quality to it like an old conker that appeals to me. In went a light jacket, some oatcakes, tomatoes, wee peppermill, a couple of apples and a bottle of tea that was cooled nicely. I also decided to take my small scetch pad, pencils, rubber and spotting scope. Swithered about taking my big binoculars instead and although lovely, my old rubber armoured Carl Zeiss Jena 8x50's weight very heavily after a while toddling about. Also popped in my Hudson Bay fire kit and my sheath knife. Decided to leave out my wee camera and my MP3 player. As a last thought threw in the remaining blueberries in a little tub. Dilled up my pockets with the usuall stuff like Opinel knife, lighter, tablets and decided to take my tobaco tin along for a wee treat of a smoke after lunch.
Pack on picked up my sticks and headed out the door. Sunlight hit me full in the face and immediately warmed me. A few early insects flitting about and the proverbial early birds after their breakfast on the other side of the burn across from my front door. Got into the rythem of walking with the sticks as I trundled up the road to the first of the many bridges in the village. There's around a dozen little bridges and I spend an inordinate amount of time leaning over them peering into the gurgling water below. Watching the little trout, dippers, kingfishers and occasional otter. Snoop my old dog had also spent a lot of time hunting the river bank and had cleared the area of rats and a couple of mink which seem not to have returned despite his passing. I also find the polarized lenses in my sungigs help in seeing through the glare into the depths below.
The morning sun is hitting a fence that one of my neighbors was creosoting yesterday and the wonderful smell of it is wafting through the still morning air. It's not a smell that everyone likes but it transports me back to being a kid and the smell of the tar bubbling up through the cassies (Cobbles) that we played with as children in those seemingly endless summer holidays. A quick keek over the bridge to see if there's any fish and I'm rewarded with a few of the little mottled hunters facing into the current, keeping in place with so little effort as they wait for food to come their way.
Into the back fields and the path is begining to peter out. The rain of the other day has made everything very lush. It's going to be good year for silage which should keep the farmers happy. The profusion of wild flowers, reeds, meadow sweet and clover are making a heady perfume as I brush through them. But I'm picking my way through, partly so I don't snag my sticks but also to avoid the heavier concentrations of coockoo spit that I've had a mild aversion to since I was a kid. Patches of it are pretty heavy and I know it's harmless but it's making the place look like the front row of a Sex Pistols gig. It also makes me think of all those chiefs on telly who seem to insist on putting foams on their food. Although I love to cook I don't like those foams, it makes it look like someone has cleared their throat on the food to me and isn't very palatable. (And don't get me started on "crushed potatoes"; you either mash them properly or you don't!)
I cross over the dual carraigeway, still quiet at this time of the day and take up the path through the lush thigh high grass growing there. The lovely feathery seed heads of it tickle my hands as I pass through and in to the woodland at the damaged piece of fence.
It's immediately cooler in here and the smells change as a slight scent of fungi gets mixed in with the foliage of the mixed conifers. The birds are flitting from branch to branch up in the canopy. Letting me catch glimpses of them as they dart about. At a damp patch near the burn I come across some relatively fresh deer slots where they've stopped for a drink before crossing. So if I keep quiet I may get to see them in the wood rather than feeding out in the fields.
Picking my way between branches as silently as I can I do come across the deer, not in the woods though, they're nibbling at the luxuriant growth along the edge of the woodland. Some feeding while others look about, taking it in turns to watch for predators that aren't going to come for them.
There isn't a huge amount of life on the forest floor in here, apart from where the wind has carved out openings allowing the sunlight in. These oasis are filled with vegitation and birdlife chasing the insects. But I want to get out onto open hillside and keep heading up. Break out into sunlight again and a fresh breeze is keeping the insects down.
Looking over to Glen Bee (in contention for the smallest Glen in Scotland) and Wether Hill there's a dark cloud hanging over them. Usually weather sitting over those two will hit the village in about ten to twenty minutes but it doesn't seem to be going anywhere fast. I always wonder if it's called Wether Hill for this reason or if one of the locals was just winding up the cartographers when they visited to collect names all those years back. Sounds like a Highland sense of humour to me. It may be dark over there but the skys blue everywhere else and I stop to put my hat on to save getting too much sun. Decide to head east towards the remains of Castle Oglive. Theres not much of it left and it's not shown on most scales of map but it's a nice place to stop and it takes me past some plants I want to check in on. I get to a long dip running down the slope of the hill and check in on the sloe bushes growing in profusion there. Going by the flower show they put on earlier in the year it should be a good crop this year and thoughts of sloe gin filling my head I head on to the headgerow where there's a few gooseberry bushes growing. The bushes are pretty heavy with fruit but it's not ready to tingle my tongue with its sweet tartness yet. Though I do pick a couple of the hard wee berries and the astringent taste makes my mouth initially dry before the moisture comes flooding back. I head up to the remaining corner of the castle and sit on some of the grass covered tumbled down stones. I like it here, it's always quiet and I rarely see anyone. Having spoken to folk in the village most of them don't seem to know it's here, screened off from the village by some tall broadleaves half way up the hill. I take out my spotting scope and using it's magnification pop in on a small gull colony across the valley in a boggy patch by the railway. The birds are busy quarrling with each other as they go about raising their young. The young are too well camoflaged at this distance for me to see but I can tell where they are by the actions if the parents. There's an early plane up from Strathallen Airfield, but no parachutists this early. Watch the plane lazily go through it's paces and wonder if the P51 Mustang will beat up the Glen today. It's always exciting when this WWII relic powers up the valley seaming to come out of no-where, low enough for it's huge engine to make your chest cavity throb when it's overhead before disapearing off making you glad that it wasn't hunting ground targets like it could during it's glory days.
Been out a while and it's taken me longer to get here than I thought it would. Decide to have an early lunch and get out my bottle of cold tea for a swig. Some folk wonder about the cold black tea, but it was fairly common amongst farmers to take a bottle during the summer as it seems to open the pores and cool you down. Also get out the oatcakes and tomatoes. Slice up the tomatoes with my trusty Opinel, it's thin sharp blade easing through the firm but ripe flesh with ease. I do like toms, one of my favourite fruit and on oatcakes with fresh milled black pepper they're hard to beat. Agian it's something some folks find strange that I'll carry a wee peppermill up a hill but it's so much nicer when freshly done and the mill weighs next to nothing. Sit munching away, the breeze keeping the insects away from me, watching life go by. Great stuff. After I've eaten I get out my pad and pencils and decide to do a couple of sketches. I used to draw a lot and it's something I've been trying to get back into of late. There's something about the soft graphite on the textured paper that helps give form to what I'm trying to capture. After a few scribbles of the standing walls of the castle I move on to some of the flowers that surround me and get lost trying to capture the detail of a little speedwell that's taken my fancy. Coming out of my concentration I decide that I need a bit more practice before I start showing my work to folk again but I've enjoyed it. I find that looking so hard at something that initially seems so small and simple really broadens the senses. I know that I pay more attention to whats around me than a lot of folk but getting lost like that in something is a very nice way to spend some time.
Some movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention and slowly turning around there's a red squirrel sitting about twenty five yards away from me. I've seen a few reds using the drystane dykes that run up and down the hills here as corridors between the stands of timber. And they can be quite tame. I very slowly reach towards the wee punnet of blueberries that are sitting out beside me and flick a couple with my thumb towards it like tossing a coin for heads or tails. At first I think it's going to take flight as the berries land between the two of us. But he slowly settles down and moves to investigate. I stay very still as he comes nearer and he picks up one of the blueberries after a cursery sniff. He pops it into his teeth and retreats a bit before stopping and sitting side on takes it out of his mouth and begins to eat it. He repeats this again and again 'till he's eaten all of the fruit and given me a huge smile for the day. It won't be long before the slopes are covered in blaeberries for him to munch on to his hearts content but it was nice that he was prepared to share my lunch with me. It's always such a privalage when a wild animal overcomes its natural distrust of us humans and is prepared to interact with us. Realising that his free lunch is over he moves back to the dyke and heads back to the trees. After he's safely ensconced in it's branches I slowly pack up deciding that I won't get far enough today to get to the bigger patch of gooseberry bushes to see how they're getting on. I'm stiff from sitting as I stand up and swing my pack on. Pick up my sticks and wonder how much longer I'll be using them. I'm already hobbling 'round the house with one or none but still feel the need for two when I'm outside. Still I feel I'm making good progress but have walked far enough for the day so will head back.
As I reach the village it's come to life since I left this morning. There's a few folk milling about in their gardens and out walking dogs. I say hello and get greeted by the pooches. I bump into Jake and his owner Iain. Jakes a lab/lurcher cross, a huge black hairy imitation of a wolfhound and one of the friendliest souls on the planet. When he see's me at a distance he quickly accelerates up to warp speed to come and say hello. Being a softie he stops short so he doesn't knock me over then gambols round me like a spring lamb, kicking his legs out belying his age and thinking he's still a puppy. Iain catches up and we chat for a while, me telling him about the squirrel and him talking about his house in France that he's doing up for his retirement.
Back at home I unpack my bag and decide I need a seat. Still got a huge chunk of the day left. I could weed the garden but I'd better leave some things to do tomorrow!
Cheers for that. Yeah the scars healed very well just a few tiny scabs where the clips were. Will have to post a picture, quite impressed with it. To date it's the longest scar I've got. beginning to look like Frankenstein's monster. The range of movement is improving every day with me now able to get over fences with a only a wee bit of a struggle. Speak soon mate.
I've really enjoyed reading this latest literary work in Goatboy's 'Observations of My Natural Surroundings'. Thanks Colin and all the best in healing!
TurboGirl
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
only you could use a simiie referring to cuckoo spit and a sex pistols concert so seamlessly! I'm looking forward to seeing some of your pictures when you're ready to share them... And hearing about it the next time you get buzzed by the p51 we live close to a aeroclub from ww2, mostly yaks and Pitts but occasionally we get buzzed by interesting older birds
Super write up as always love x I fancy myself along with you, its a real treat to read x
we live close to a aeroclub from ww2, mostly yaks and Pitts but occasionally we get buzzed by interesting older birds Super write up as always love x I fancy myself along with you, its a real treat to read x
only you could use a simiie referring to cuckoo spit and a sex pistols concert so seamlessly! I'm looking forward to seeing some of your pictures when you're ready to share them... And hearing about it the next time you get buzzed by the p51
Super write up as always love x I fancy myself along with you, its a real treat to read x
He-he, the Sex Pistols thing made me smile when it came to me, it was a thing I never liked about Punk gigs the spitting.
Haven't seen the P51 in a wee while, though it is awesome when it barrels up the glen really low, to fast to get pictures of though.
I'm still a bit reticent about the drawings though, it's been so long since I did much serious drawing that I feel I've a fair bit of catching up to do. You'll be the first when I do though.
TurboGirl
Bushcrafter (boy, I've got a lot to say!)
I should get my paints and pencils out more often. If I show you mine, will you show me yours?! I'm not shy if you aren't
My favourite arty find atm is this guys wonderful interpretation of features onto old maps. How cool is his work?! I love the feeling in these veiled images This ones based on the peak district
My favourite arty find atm is this guys wonderful interpretation of features onto old maps. How cool is his work?! I love the feeling in these veiled images
This ones based on the peak district
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