Heroics. And cheese.
In which we witness a crime
I am not a hero. I had always suspected as much, but now I know it’s true.
A homage to loading screens.
In which we witness a crime
I am not a hero. I had always suspected as much, but now I know it’s true.
In which we remember Scotland
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 sitting, looking at you, and wondering how many times I’ll be back here.