Random jottings from a week in Northumberland on sabbatical

 Our cottage had a rare week free of bookings, and I had some reading to do, so I decided to take my books to Northumberland and work in more inspiring surroundings. Benji the BMW had not been to Scotland before -at least not since I'd owned him, so a late afternoon walk in the Lammermuirs was called for using a book of walks we have just acquired. This was a short out and back to a Broch. Nice to sharpen your appetite for dinner.

 Over the rickety rackety bridge, keeping very quiet as I understand Scottish Trolls are particularly aggressive at this time of year.

 Safe from Trolls, but the Scottish midges more than made up for it. This river is Whiteadder, I believe, pretty well dried up but still picteresque

 A steady climb by the side of the river watching the threatening rainclouds fast approaching

 The pictures, as is often the case, don't really do justice to the beauty and serenity of the place

 The rain has arrived and I still have to climb that hill to find the Broch. Shame about the pylons and telegraph poles.

 This swing gate is, without doubt, the stingiest I have ever come across for allowing space for capacious stomachs like mine. I just managed to squeeze through without giving myself a hernia. Good job I went before dinner.

 The top of the hill approaches

The Broch! What is a Broch? I hear you cry. Well, it seems no-one is quite sure, except that it was somewhere possibly to live, or a fortification, or something.......

 This one (if you don't want to blow up the picture and read about it) is unusual because they are a rarity in the southern part of Scotland, usually being found in the Highlands, Northern and Western Isles. The theory was that someone migrated to the Lammermuirs from further north and built one.
I wondered if he was just on holiday, and the beach was a bit far to go so he built this instead of a sandcastle. No-one so far in academic circles has given this suggestion the credibility it undoubtedly deserves. 

 They are impressive - not so much from this distance, it just looks like a stone sheepfold...

 But when you get close up you see an inner and outer wall and lots of rooms like this one. Just enough room for a double bed, I think.

 Now who lives in a house like that? It's actually a retreat house of some kind. I drove round to see it and was accosted by a shirty Englishman who asked me what I was doing on the public road leading to it. I pointed to my tax disc; he said something vaguely unpleasant in a posh Surrey accent. I nearly told him that if I wanted some sort of a retreat and he was running a house it would be the last place I would go. Fancy - living your life somewhere like this and still being miserable.

Proof positive that I was in Scotland

Seen better days, but a lovely old rowing boat

 One last glance at Whiteadder Water before going home for dinner

 And of course I went to Lindisfarne and took some photos entirely identical to hundreds I have already taken. I apologise not!

 Harbour beach at low tide. I was having this conversation with God - I think he was listening, actually I'm pretty sure of that, but was he directing my thoughts? Anyway I got to thinking about faith, and whether it is a bit like having a boat. The boat you need is the one that does the job you need it for. For instance, there would be no point trying to use a cross-channel passenger and vehicle ferry to land at Lindisfarne harbour. It's too cumbersome, insufficiently agile and - well just inappropriate. But if you were setting out from here to cross the North Sea to whatever it is you hit if you go East (Germany, Denmark, Sweden or Norway I think, depending on how straight your line is) you would need something tough, robust and dependable.

 But if you just wanted to sail around the Farne Islands then a smallish dinghy would probably do the job, unless the seas were rough. Anyway I kept extending the analogy and decided it probably worked on a fair number of levels.So I had a jolly good look at the boats in the harbour and decided which one best matched me.

 Then I thought about the people who have dragged their boats in, turned them upside down and taken shelter in them from anything that threatens them. Safe from storms they might be, but they ain't going anywhere. Of course it's fine for fishermen to do this, and the upturned boats on Holy Island are one of its most iconic and endearing features.

 I made a fantastic discovery; I have been researching the history of the Primitive Methodists and one or two fascinating groups like the Magic Methodists of Delamere Forest, who I would have loved to have met. They were into things like trances and lying down in a stupor for hours on end. That's often how church makes me feel if the sermon is boring. Anyway I found that Berwick records office has a whole load of records on the Primitives Methodists in the area, and that there was a circuit based in Lowick, just a short distance from our house. Tragically Lowick Methodist has now been sold as a residence, but I really enjoyed dipping my toes in the water of the immaculate records they kept. This is a view from the walls that once used to guard Berwick. Well worth walking around if you are in the area.

 Berwick new bridge with haar coming in to obscure it.

 A better view from a little corner of the town I hadn't discovered before

 And a final walk round Lindisfarne. I love this kind of view - could have stayed for hours. Actually I think I did.

Took this one on a walk round the island, and you really can't see from the picture, but it was two ladies who were quite clearly together sharing an afternoon out. But they were both talking 19 to the dozen on their mobiles, clearly oblivious to each other and the wonderful beauty all around. I wanted to go and shake them and take the batteries out of their 'phones. I thought better of it.
Three weeks of sabbatical to go.