The Scottish Borders

I had arranged to meet a friend and former work colleague after my flight from the bothy.

My friend's wife had secured a good job near Berwick upon Tweed. They had moved from Greater London to start a new life in the north. Though they living in Scotland his wife crossed the border every day to England in her short drive to work.

They had retained their house near Watford and were renting an old farmhouse near Berwick . My friend was originally from Sri Lanka . Though metropolitan he and his wife had fallen in love with country life. They feed the neighbours horses in the morning and took long country walks.They hoped to raise a family.

We talked about the past and discussed the vagaries of work in the law. He and his wife are practising Buddhists. I found his company calming and our discussion constructive. He is a good man and had brought his widowed mother from Sri Lanka to live with him. I admired his observance of duty.

I left my friend to attend to his work and went for a walk. The countryside was wonderful and the weather mild for winter. The plantation of Ulster drew souls from the surrounding area. My forebears may have walked similar paths.

I made my farewells on my return from my walk and set off on the A1. I passed Newcastle, the Angel of the North and other signposts on the way to the South. The North of England can be very beautiful . I vowed to return with my wife to visit the Lakes and Yorkshire.

I arrived back in London. Despite the misfire of the hiking I felt relaxed and invigorated.