I'm pleased to be able to report that I'm not dead. Well, not yet anyway. I'm in the last throes of slaying a particularly lumpen and monstrous piece of work, which has been vampirically leeching all of my time away from me these last seven days. At the moment, I feel like Herman Melville's dark Captain Ahab, wild and afloat, pursuing the fat thing across the deeps and wrecks and shoals, monomaniac to find the heart of the business and stick an ending sodding lance into it all. Thankfully, this murderous task should be despatched on Monday and ordinary polemical service should resume next week. Until then, acquaint thyself with this ever-apt ditty, sprung from the pen of Hamish Henderson and sung by that pitted, mop-topped ginger Erseman, Luke Kelly. Freedom Come Aa Ye ~ A hymn for a new Scotland.
Guid.
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