The Times They Are a-Changin’

St Mary's Loch

St Mary's Loch the Scottish Borders

Episode 1

Young hearts are foolish, they make such mistakes

Sarah awoke with a shock and sat bolt upright in bed to the thunderous sound of her son belting out Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition on the piano. That’s it she said, that’s the final straw and with that she tumbled out of bed with her usual forward roll, striking herself in the eye with her knee, I must remember not to keep doing that she swore, yes she swore, I don’t believe it either.

Dressing like a fireman called to a barbecue, she tore down the stairs as if she was the whole Jamaican Bob Sleigh Team herself. Hitting a few high notes on the piano as she flew past she bid farewell to her son who never even flinched. Out side she leapt over the chicken run scattering her four best birds to the wind. Naturally the normal one landed right before her so Sarah not one to waste an opportunity took to her back and commanded she flew her to Galashiels.

Eight hours of continuous flight later they landed on the Tweedbank athletics ground and there tearing around the running track like roadrunner was a Coldstream Cockerel. He caught the spectacle in his beady eye and hopped firth of forth to investigate. Och braw chookie ye cannae carry that dunderheed any more, come with me and we’ll make eggs in the heath. Sarah waved goodbye to her normal chicken and set-forth herself for Selkirk on foot.

Four hours later Sarah had just about covered the five measly miles to Selkirk, and as she staggered on with blistered feet up Ettrick Terrace, a green motorcycle pulled up along side her and its rider offered her a lift. Sarah not being one to look a gooseberry in the pie jumped at the opportunity, with both feet off the ground waving her arms about, she gleefully leapt towards the green machine with her arms outstretched to grasp the crash helmet offered up.

Soon the two were flashing along the A708 towards Yarrowford. Sarah was singing out aloud into the wind rushing over her face, Perfect by Fairground Attraction, Sarah was no Eddi Reader but the man riding the green motorcycle loved the song and appreciated a happy passenger. They soon drew along side St Mary’s Loch and pulled up into the lay-by for a rest and to take in the wonderful views of the hills on the far side of the waters. The stranger on the motorcycle took off his crash helmet and beamed his usual smile at his new found companion and introduced himself as Lorenzo from Lowick, just over the border near Holy Island.


Sarah took off her crash helmet too, placing it on the seat of the bike, she ran the fingers of both her hands through her long flowing locks to uncover her face in the stiff breeze. So! Lorenzo, where are we heading exactly. The man in the blue leather jacket pointed up the road and said, Moffat, there’s a beautiful valley road shortly with views you’ll just fall in love with, he exclaimed with a tone of extreme enthusiasm, and Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye, he continued. Sara looked a little perplexed with one of her favourite stock expressions. Lorenzo seeing her ‘pleading for sanity look’ explained, whatever is meant to happen to you, will happen to you, what ever will be, will be. Sarah shook her head up and down vigorously in agreement.

Back on the bike and about four miles beyond Birkhill and having passed over the best part of the route they pulled to the side of a very narrow part of the road to let an oncoming vehicle past. They waited and waited an realised it wasn’t moving so they rode towards it with care and pulled up along side, it looked like a TARDIS, felt like a TARDIS and when thumped on its doors, sounded like a TARDIS. They dismounted and walked back to investigate, the door opened and they ventured inside to look around, as you do when you meet an abandoned TARDIS. Sarah being the more curious of the two, began fiddling with all the switches and levers.

Oooooh look at this Lorenzo, what do you think this does. Ah dinnae ken……..

Boom EERrwWwoooooSHHHhEERrwWwoooooSHHHhEERrwWwoooooSHHHh.

Charlie Yankee Four to Control, Sarg I’ve got an abandoned motorcycle here with two crash helmets on the seat and I haven’t seen anyone in either direction for five miles, any reports of missing persons?

Wiltshire Chickens

Wiltshire Chickens


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“Any resemblance between the characters in this story and any persons, living or dead, is a miracle.”

4 October, 2017
All images and written works by David Forward are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License