Well-trodden

What a strange day. That sinking feeling began it - the moment when you waken, realise what's been happening overnight, check election results - and then the realisation that you're doomed to go on checking all day till bedtime and still be none the wiser. Oh, America - I don't get it. Actually, the day had really begun a few hours earlier when I woke in the dark and realised I was cold - the result of not yet having changed to the winter duvet. Of course, now that I have changed them round, they tell us tonight will be mild ... 

No rain meant that I washed all the bed linen and hung it out on the line; it doesn't fully dry at this time of year before the shadows lengthen and the dampness begins to fall, but it's a gesture towards what I like to do. I also did enough Italian to reach the gold medal position in the level I'm working on with my Italian on Duolingo; I suspect doing it in the morning helps, when America is still sleeping. And I wrote another chapter of memoirs - for my family, really, though the tale of my home tonsillectomy horrifies me all over again when I write it down.

In the afternoon I hiked 10 kilometers with my friend through the grounds of Castle Toward to the Chinese Lakes and back round by the road. I used to do this walk often, with another walking friend; the paths were ruined by the gales in the late 80s because of fallen trees and access was then denied by the people who bought the castle from the council. (It used to be a residential centre for visiting groups). Recently they put up a sign indicating that the footpath to the Chinese Lakes - and, en route, to the historic Toward Castle ruin -  was now open to walkers, and I've been meaning to go all year.

The strange thing is that the new bit of path leads, very soon, onto the driveway inside the grounds; all it does is avoid the new wrought iron gates and repaired gateway, which remain firmly shut. Instead, the intrepid wanderer has to pick her way through the deepest, most glutinous mud imaginable - was this to deter all but the most determined? Anyway, we are such people, and we made it. It was good to revisit the ruins, to see a new little loch that seems to have been formed by diverting a burn (and may have led to the spectacular mud), to follow the track over a new bridge (just visible in the photo) up to the pair of lakes with the now decrepit but still attractive arched stone bridges reminiscent of the Willow Pattern. 

By the time we emerged onto the road and lengthened our stride in the gathering dusk, we were covered in mud as far as the knees, but it was  good, circular hike. And I still had to remake the bed, winter duvet and all, and make dinner ...I shall probably boil tonight.