Arnor

We walked up Witchcraig, just to remind ourselves of what we are about as a group. He Who Must Run His Mouth was not with us on account of gout; and we tried to remind ourselves of his enthusiasm rather than those little foibles that make him such a unique addition to our group. It would be nice if he could refrain from joining the list of testing circumstances in our lives; Covid, Brexit, horrible government, Gnome with Bloaty Head Syndrome... He couldn't come but his suggestions were at the ready; Could someone do a little recording of the walk for, for, oh Instagram or the web page or, or...I don't know and neither does he. He's just bustling helplessly, flexing his need to give out tasks. The man is desperate for a team to run. Unfortunately for him, we are not it. No-one told him to do it himself (I am the only group member who has come anywhere near that) but no-one did his little tiktok moment either. We just enjoyed the walk.



It is said that Witchcraig was the site of burnings but I am not sure there's any evidence for that. There's a stone set into a wall up there; it's commonly called the Refuge Stone and looks to have been around since the 12th century denoting the ownership of these lands by the Knights Hospitaller.




There was the sunset and the land itself,stories past and present laid out around us, from Torphichen where the knights had their preceptory and Wallace his parliament, to the Grangemouth oil refinery, belching up abrupt pyres of flame in the twilight; 'Mordor' the locals call it. I need to take my good camera up there, to really evoke it properly from where we stood, closer to Bree than the Shire, Weathertop not so far away.