Chapter Thirteen
The Van
A Transit van by any other name is still difficult to turn.
I was sitting in the The Read and be Thankful browsing my latest Single is Great read when I heard a noise from the street. I looked up; I couldn’t believe it. Rodger was out of his shed, out of Ardrishaig and running across the street shouting, while clutching a pile of packaging.
“You can take this back,” he said. “This is no more a sweat lodge than I am a coke can.”
I have never known my Rodger to shout and run in public, even in the days of belly dancing when a few of the old ones in the audience fell asleep, and there he was running alongside a van with his precious pal Shifty trying to stop him. Rodger’s face was as red as the day Blondie took the takings. Then, just as I was about to top up my
