Autumn Hits.

My mind is full of winter songs.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Swing high min.

 

CYLYBOC

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