Memories of the year (part four)
This is just a short one. A romantic breakfast, in a supermarket in Greenock, squeezed between the railway and the firth. Haar is hanging over the firth,* and the far shore is out of sight. I’m...
View ArticleHeroics. And cheese.
I am not a hero. I had always suspected as much, but now I know it’s true. I popped round to the corner shop,* just to pick up a few things, and noticed some dodgy-looking men hanging around outside....
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