Today I had haggis for breakfast. It was a small slice of haggis that took the place of the black pudding in my cooked breakfast. Sue didn’t have haggis but she did have blisters. Not to mention sore feet after our brisk but lengthy walk along the road yesterday.
We had decided that neither of us were up to a 17 mile day today. Happily, we knew of a good taxi firm… Jim picked us up and dropped us off a few miles down the road near Maxton. We walked to Maxton, passing the church which has an external bell rope for ringing the bell. We resisted the temptation.
The first half of today’s walk followed the River Tweed. It was lovely. There were fishermen, sand martins, and a spring known as the Crystal Well. It was originally a spring and water had to be fetched daily for the big house by a maid and a donkey. The house was modernised and a pump (powered by donkeys) was installed and a grotto was built around the spring.
We wound on, passing St Boswells golf course – golf courses are the best terrain for walking, all that beautifully mown grass- and then St Boswells itself. After St Boswells we walked through Newtown St Boswells before turning towards the Eildon Hills
We had seen the Eildon Hills from afar on the day we walked into Scotland and they are very distinctive-the highest one had a Roman Signalling Station on top. The road (it was a road that had been blocked to traffic so was now a cycle way) lead us past Thomas the Rhymer’s stone. I vaguely remembered that T the R had met the Queen of Elfland and been spirited away. Apparently (according to Wikipedia which, as I have adequate WiFi -which happens surprisingly little- I have been able to consult) Thomas was a local laird who, after returning from Elfland (he thought he’d been gone three days but it was three years) couldn’t tell a lie and was given the gift of prophecy. He prophesied that there would be a bridge over the Tweed. I think a lot of people could have prophesied that if you’d asked them. He didn’t specify when or where, exactly, just that you could see it from the Eildon tree. Given that Melrose was already in existence, it seems a fair bet a bridge might one day be built. But enough of my cynicism.
We walked down into Melrose emerging by the Abbey, and made for a cafe for refreshments. This was a big mistake. Suffice it to say that, unrefreshed, we got our money back and made our way through town to get our taxi to Lauder. Accommodation has been very difficult to find in the Borders so we were several miles away. The taxi said he thought we wanted picking up the next day, but instantly made amends by saying his wife would take us if we waited outside her shop-she is a florist.
We learned on the journey to Lauder that she combines taxi driving with floristry (business was very good in lockdown but much less so now) and met her husband, who is also Hungarian, in the Melrose Public Library. She deposited us safely at the Black Bull Inn at Lauder where we had a very comfortable room and a good dinner.
Rose's LEJOG 