Educating McGuinness

I remember the evening I first heard a certain scooter crunch across the gravel of a certain fabled backyard near a certain storied village where the wisdom of uncertainty has always been a driving force.

Nancy peered out the back window, saw the owner step through the step-through frame and remove his rust-coloured helmet, broad-brimmed beret, red and white keffiyeh, and still-lit cigar.

He shook his hair free in the breeze and began walking towards the back door.