I’m still feeling the tremorous after effects of last night. You see, in the wee hours of last night / this morning our caravan headed south to retrieve a valued envoy from the airport. At around 3 am we were headed north bound. The sky began to lighten around 4. We arrived at our safe house around 4:30. The fridge was full. Beer. Lots of it. And some good cheese, that’s an irrelevant detail. Last night wrapped itself until about 11 am. It’s a bit fuzzy, perhaps it’s the alcohol, perhaps I sustained a concussion during one of the 4 drunken grappling sessions which I was consecutively subjected to. There was lots of singing. Screaming of the old anthems, and some new. There was a lot of whiskey slugging. As I write this my voice is just whistles and gasps. Perhaps we took it a tad too far. Perhaps this is just a beginning of a massive decent into rock ‘n’ roll again. This is what youth should be. This is the return of the fiery days of the Wulfemen. As the Clash say, we’re a garage band. We live in garage land. Welcome home, comrade. Hawwwooooooooooo!!!