Driving in a van that bares a likeness to the battle sturdy chariots of ancient Greece or the majesty of the royal g-unit only some men get to experience. We made it to Scotland. The weather was bleak but the welcome we received from two beautiful tortoise shell cats was warm and sincere. We inspected what was to become our home for the next week. A magnificent rambling abode with antlers in great piles on beds and secret passage ways imbedded in bedroom walls. The boiler had blown. The electricity was starting to cut out in the high winds and the van was bogged down in Scottish mud and dirt. A swift tinker with the boiler forced the water back around its insides like a colonic irrigation kick-starting it back into rude health…. The power cut lasted only a few precious hours. And no person, organism, grime or mire can ever fuck with our fucking van…. All in search of The Low Suns
Jack
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