My mind is full of winter songs.
Colours. Well brown and goldy shite. Aberdeen is an ugly place most of the time, but the bit I live in is aright. It’s quite an old bit all cobbles and old buildings down near the river.
But Autumn has hit Aberdeen.
As ever the mystery of Tony Vogt troubles my mind. I pore endlessly over my journal notes and research work. No clues. It’s one of the great mysteries of this dull grey town.
He’s probably a bit of a prick anyhow. I’ve used the name in one of my stories. It’s a good name- full of myth and magic. Perhaps he was a grimy dirty finger nailed necromancer. Ancient and demented. Searching endlessly for just the right corpse to re-animate and play with. A bit like Jimmy Saville.
Early on we hit the park today. It was a guid laugh. Here’s a shot.
Swing high min.