Young fella got on the bus with me in Campbeltown yesterday. Made a phone call.

”Hi mum”
Mum asks where he is.
”I’m on the bus”
Mum asks how he’s going to get to some other place too.
”On the bus. Can I ask you a weird one. I’m going to get off at Tayinloan and pick up my stuff. Could you give me a lift and catch the bus up afterwards?”

Fortunately Mum is a bit more tuned on than her son. When we get to Tayinloan Mum has brought his stuff to the bus stop.

I’m on my way to do some songwriting with friends again. That conversation was at the beginning of two bus journeys of over four hours each yesterday. I’m the furthest flung of our collective.

In Manchester now, and me and my stuff is getting picked up shortly, by Gary. Gary is not my mum. But we’re travelling down to Wales together.

These journeys, and I’ve done them in many different ways over the years, are always the start of A Special Few Days.