Life is Biggar

It’s bigger than you. And you are not me.The lengths that I will go to.                              Thanks R.E.M.

I remember that a DJ on Radio 1, I think it was Mike Read, had a show with guests reviewing new singles when this was released in the 90s. They were so busy talking that they missed the significance of one of the greatest rock singles of all time. They said it was tedious. 

It rained a lot overnight, I woke up a few times but only peed once. I know you like to know these things. Keeping tabs on my bladder. That’s fine, I’m not sensitive about it. But I was in the sleeping bag when I did it. Hoots of laughter. The rain continued into the afternoon.

I derigged the tent and took it into the laundry to fold up. Soaking.

I wore my boots and walked just half a mile to a cafe recommended by the campsite. A great breakfast with double haggis and tea.

Peebles is ok, no doubt better in the sun but a bit waterlogged today.

There’s a track running along the old railway line again, by the side of the Tweed, so I dropped down off the road to join it. Covered entirely by my camouflaged Swiss Army raincoat, up over the back of my pack as well. As here in this earlier photo. Better to be off the roadside, particularly when the pavement runs out. Should have brought a hi viz. 

The track was direct and well signed. Coming out of Peebles there is a huge quartz boulder carried down by the glaciers a few thousand years ago. 

Amazing how they built a seat for it to sit on in those days.

The rain continued. With an atmospheric ruined castle on the top of this hill.

The train line was great and my line of sight was narrow between the earth and the clouds. Going on and dropping rain forever. Well, at least until now. It was a short, four hour walk and they’ve spent some money on the walk. Not least the six figures spent on this bridge. Eddie Bingham – any idea how much it’d cost?

Coming into Innerleithen and looking back the view was overcast and damp.

The St Ronan’s Hotel beckoned, with a fire to dry out my coat and rucksack. I considered the wet tent wrapped up in its bag, compared to the dry, warm and hospitable option of a bed and breakfast. There were a couple of B&Bs available. But bugger it. Get that tent up Bladey Blade, you’ve not turned into a Hampstead pansy overnight have you lad? Sleep in a damp sleeping bag with water dripping down from the outer tent and a chill wind up your jacksie or you are not a real man. So there! 

Chill wind up my jacksie please sir!

Night night.