Auld Hoyrn
The scrap men circle. Hungry, dark-eyed lads. Always polite, always grateful for a broken toaster or telly. More filler than metal, their battered chariot speeds through the streets like some hellish ice cream van. Hesitate and they’re gone, cruising over the horizon with their comedy bugle warbling, a nasal plea on loop. But there are … Continue reading Auld Hoyrn