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    Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)
    Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)
    Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)
    Ebook177 pages2 hours

    Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)

    By Adam Colton

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    A father and son from Kent embark upon a circuit of the Scottish Lowland coast in search of lighthouses. As they traverse the coastline, they become drawn to the history and heritage of the area and turn their mission inland, along the battle-ridden Scottish Border, hoping to experience a haunting in spite of their expressed scepticism. The nightly wind-down in the pub seems to ignite some comedic and often impassioned musings about modern life, and even the odd bit of conspiracy theory.

    Informally written, this 2022 reissue updates some of the information, hones some of the humour and hopes to inspire other 'southern softies' to get a handle on the region's complex past. This adventure should appeal to modern travel readers, looking for a slightly different take on the genre.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAdam Colton
    Release dateJun 10, 2017
    ISBN9781370871803
    Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)
    Author

    Adam Colton

    Born in 1975, Adam Colton is a writer of humorous travelogues and short stories from Kent, UK. His first paperback documented an attempt to visit every lighthouse on the mainland coast of England and Wales undertaken with his father, Roger Colton, who published and contributed to the book which was featured on the BBC news to mark National Lighthouse Day and became the subject of a question on the quiz show, University Challenge.Since then, Adam has straddled the line between documenting his lightly philosophical UK travel escapades and mind-blowing fiction. One of his stories was short-listed for the HG Wells festival's short story competition. He is also a writer of topical songs, performing as one half of the duo Adam and Teresa, whose song 'Fat Cats with a Death Wish on the M25' received airplay on BBC Radio Kent. Meanwhile '2021 - A Musical Odyssey' humorously reviews classic rock albums from the 1960s to the present day in a way that should raise a smile with anybody of a certain age..Bibliography:England and Wales in a Flash (2003) - with Roger ColtonMud Sweat and Beers (2006)Seven Dreams of Reality (Conundrum Sampler vol.1) (2009)Bordering on Lunacy (2011) - with Roger ColtonThe Kent-erbury Tales (Conundrum Sampler vol.2) (2012)Stair-Rods and Stars (2015)Codename: Narcissus (2020)The Dream Machine (Labyrinth of Dreams) (2020)The Nightshade Project (2020)2021: A Musical Odyssey (2021)Mud, Sweat and Beers (2022 'Reload' Edition) (2022)Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition) (2022)

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      Bordering on Lunacy (Fully Revised 2022 Edition) - Adam Colton

      Bordering on Lunacy

      (Fully Revised 2022 Edition)

      By Adam Colton

      With additional material by Roger Colton

      A father and son's crazy quest for lighthouses, haunted castles and an arcane border in Southern Scotland

      Paperback edition originally published by United Press Ltd 2011

      Fully Revised 2022 Edition copyright 2022 Adam Colton

      Cover designed for Adam Colton by United Press Ltd

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

      For more information on digital and physical copies of Adam Colton's books email hamcopublishing@aol.com

      Preface to the 2022 Edition

      This book is something of a three-pronged attack, being an attempt at writing three books in one.

      My father and I had visited every mainland lighthouse around the coastline of England and Wales for our first foray into travel writing and we had commenced an attempt to repeat the feat with Scotland. However, when the extent of the travelling required hit us, our mission turned into a circular jaunt around the Scottish Lowlands / Border Country, undertaken in two trips.

      As we toured, we attempted to get our heads around the complex and often bloody history of the region. This became the second predominant theme.

      However, it became clear that a book that aims to please both lighthouse fanatics and those who want to dabble in Scottish history could become heavy-going without some humour. The thing was, the tongue in cheek nature of these sometimes indignant interjections bewildered as many as it appeased.

      Reviewing the book again in 2022, I clearly wished that I had written it slightly differently, trimming some of those rambling soliloquies as well as tightening up the factual information. For example, you would not expect the rankings of rivers to change, but the source info used for the first printing cited the Clyde as Scotland's second longest river, whereas now it is generally accepted to be the third longest. Therefore, this reissue is an attempt to right the wrongs of that first edition which was somewhat rushed out.

      Well, having read it again and added a few updated notes I can confirm that I do still like the book, viewing it more like a wayward child that needs some guidance which I hope will turn out OK in the end.

      The humour is perhaps best viewed as banter with an imaginary Scottish friend, for the truth is, we really did want to get a handle on the region, its culture and its history.

      As it's now 2022, I've given the heights of various lighthouses in metres as well as feet, in an attempt to engage with the younger generation. Personally I like using 'feet' as you can look at your shoes and get a rough idea of how long a foot is (especially if you are a UK 'size thirteen,' which I am not). The metre was originally defined as a ten millionth of the distance from the equator to the North Pole. You've got admit that's harder to visualise!

      And I think that last paragraph should give you a flavour of the slightly offbeat way the subject matter is handled, so you have been warned!

      Was it a 'beacon of travel writing' or was it a 'flash in the pan?' I guess that's for our readers to decide... So here's a second chance for 'Bordering on Lunacy,' and that's something poor old William Wallace never got!

      Prologue

      Yuk – (proper noun) fictitious brand name for any make of pink, brown or yellow milkshake. An essential stimulant after long walks to lighthouses.

      Arriving at the idea for this book was no mean feat.

      My father had toyed with numerous projects ranging from a drive from London to Hong Kong in a clapped out white van, to compiling a book on disused railway tunnels imaginatively titled ‘A Shot in the Dark.’

      Recalling John Masefield’s poem 'Sea Fever' which begins with the line ‘I must return to the sea again, the lonely sea and sky’, my father then suggested a similar project involving visiting isolated spits, the title being the slightly less poetic ‘Spitting in the Wind’ or even ‘Spitting Blood’, which sounds more like a book of our thoughts on trying to compete with the cut-throat British publishing industry. Enough said.

      Leaving such notions of the funeral pyre of a slightly overactive mind, we decided to return to our first love – lighthouses.

      Our first mission around the coast of England and Wales had took us to some pretty remote spots and had trained us well in the art of walking, an ancient practice that is anathema to many modern Westerners, but in order to reach the isolated lighthouses that we planned to visit on this trip, a secret weapon was required – mountain bikes. These would prove invaluable, as many of the Scottish lighthouse structures are several miles from the nearest road.

      However, pedal cycles don’t fit too well into a small hatchback, so my father traded in his beloved red Hyundai for something a little more utilitarian. Indeed, this was to be our biggest challenge yet, considering our lack of resources; no subsidies, no camera crew in tow, not even a cycle helmet between us. Was this not bordering on lunacy?

      And so we found ourselves acquainted with the ‘Yukmobile,’ an off-white Ford Escort van, nearing the end of its useful life, but with plenty of space in the back for bikes, boxes of our first book which we hoped to flog 'oop north' (as us 'southern softies' sometimes flippantly quip) and industrial-sized crates of ‘Yuk’ (our term for all branded milk drinks that invariably begin with the letter 'Y'). The clinching factor for my father trading in his reliable motor for this rusting relic was the seemingly personalised registration plate for milkshake lovers, the last three letters being ‘YUK’.

      Thus we set off on our expedition, heading for the western side of the lowland region to begin our journey, which would be a clockwise circle up the coast to the Clyde, across the Antonine Wall to the Forth and returning via the east coast and then back along the border to Dumfries – our metaphorical ‘Greenwich Meridian’ from which we venture and return.

      Day 1 - Dumfries Détente

      The journey from Southern Kent to the Scottish Borders is a very long way indeed, especially if you are travelling in a knackered van. Driving to Hong Kong? You must be joking!

      The continual noise from the diesel engine tended to reverberate around the metal interior, generating a sound not too dissimilar from the white noise used to extract information from suspected spies in interrogation chambers. On top of this, the radio was a ‘no go’, as any music containing drums ended up sounding like somebody thrashing around with a collection of paint tins in an echo chamber.

      Ever enterprising, my father had brought a talking book with him, but introducing a third person trying to recite Bram Stoker’s 'Dracula' over the top of the continual rumble was not a good idea to me. Classical music was similarly unedifying with the quiet bits completely inaudible, giving the loud bits an impact that would stop a state-of-the-art pacemaker. This left the following options; ‘the sound of silence’ (and I don’t mean the Simon and Garfunkel album) or Frank Bourke.

      We opted for latter, this being a cassette that my dad had picked up on a recent excursion to the Australian outback. Frank plays ‘Scott Joplin’ style rags on a lone piano and sometimes accompanies them with smoothly-sung lyrics that are often quite amusing. Apparently this was the latest hit sound in the Queensland bush. Was he sure?

      So you find us bombing up the A1, with accompanying music that didn’t quite fit the white van man stereotype.

      I noticed that the number of derelict cafés and redundant garage forecourts had increased dramatically since our last journey northward. In places, the ‘Great North Road’ is now a kind of business graveyard; a place where the first generation of highway services go to die. With so much of rural England groaning under concrete, it seems about time that these unsightly hulks were put out of their misery and removed. But then maybe it is good to remind ourselves of a less competitive era, when you didn’t need to own a national chain to serve bacon sandwiches to lorry drivers.

      This roadside clutter brings me neatly to the A66, which had been declared one of the worst roads in Britain on TV prior to our trip, presumably because of its high accident count.

      We took a break in Bowes, once strategically important as a stronghold for Henry II to retain his grip on recently regained Cumberland and Westmorland from Scotland. Today, the village is bypassed by the main road and serene, with grey stone cottages and an isolated castle.

      Having consumed our pork pies and ‘Yuk’ in a typically rural spot at the edge of the settlement, we returned to the A66, which becomes rather more bland after the scenic dual carriageway section to Brough. Referring to the old Rolling Stones cover, I asked my dad if he was ‘getting his kicks on route 66’, but it was clear from the fact that he was beginning to nod off at the wheel that he wasn’t.

      Soon we were on the M6, heading across the border into Dumfriesshire. At the time of our visit, the road briefly dropped its motorway status to bridge the River Esk and resurfaced beyond this ‘Cumberland gap’ as the mighty M74. Gretna Green passed by in a flash, a little like most of the marriages that are made there, I would guess.

      Differences in law between England and Scotland are something that would intrigue us time and time again. In this case, the point in question is a slightly more liberal attitude to youngsters wishing to tie the knot at sixteen. In England parental consent is required; in Scotland it is not, and with Gretna being the first place in Scotland, it is obvious to see how this lucrative little matrimony business evolved. Personally, with the average life expectancy at around eighty these days, I can understand people wanting to do this at such a young age as much as I understand the appeal of bungee jumping.

      We slipped the bungee of the speedy A75 at Annan, a busy little town with a wide main street, well-endowed with shops and a plethora of flags on display. Taking a little lane beyond the town, we crossed flat, pastoral land towards Newbie, on the north side of the Solway Firth. A large industrial building dominated the otherwise pleasant but unspectacular scenery.

      We parked to the west of the point where one of our old atlases was showing a lighthouse, and my dad inhaled some tar and nicotine while I went on a little exploratory mission on pushbike. Much as on England's 'Route 66', he had still not 'kicked' the habit.

      The inventor of the pedal-driven bicycle, Kirkpatrick Macmillan, hailed from Keir, Dumfries and Galloway. This breakthrough took place in 1839, although the pneumatic bicycle tyre would not be patented by Scotsman, John Boyd Dunlop until 1888. Again the Scottish ingenuity has to be admired, as Dunlop had actually reinvented another Scotsman, Robert Thompson's 1847 patent without knowing it.

      The gravel track ran for a mile or so along the firth, to a large mound covered by bushes and bracken, which was encircled by a tarmac road like a halo. Take the right turn and you reach a compound containing several large cylinders which I am told have something to do with effluent; take the left turn and you can reach the beach, where a pole with a cone upon it marks the outflow of this effluent into the sea. Nice!

      The ‘lighthouse’ is located on top of the mound; a mere beacon on top of a metal frame, looking more like a transmitter aerial. Upon returning to the van, a passing elderly couple explained that the original wooden lighthouse had burned down in the sixties. Our modern(ish) road atlas was clearly several decades behind the times.

      After this ignominious start, we continued to Dumfries, a town where Gothic sandstone architecture dominates. Particularly distinctive are the churches, with their spires dominating the skyline. The buildings have a reddish-brown appearance, and the pedestrianised High Street has an interesting clock tower, like a block-shaped island in the centre of the flow of shoppers. It would be this that would eventually call us back to Dumfries to conclude our mission, but for now, we passed it nonchalantly in search of a hotel; everywhere being full or demanding a king’s ransom for a night.

      Settling for a hotel near the station, it was time to hit the bar and grapple with the local ales. Up here, it seemed that ‘light’ beer is dark and ‘heavy’ beer is light, in

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