Take Me Away

I had to go into work this morning. The outrageousness of it all. And there across the road, a Morris Van. I used to have one - a grey one. Ah, the great Van Morrison: a Morris Van is for me, somehow forever connected with freedom and those days. And there it sat. To see it up close, to peer in and feel my young hands on the wheel again as Sandy and Denis and Jimmy climbed in the back and we set off up Glen Clova.
Still, work done, I turned up my collar and headed up the hill. Hours later I sat with AJ watching the second half of the rugby unfold. An undeniable spectacle, despite the unsatisfactory nature of the game itself. Right, it's Saturday night for gawdsakkes; one can't sit and stare into memories all evening as if they were a big pot of congealed porridge. Hand me my spurtle!