My randy granddad use to say it was the rest of times and the wurst of sausage, his youth before Witch War I, when he lived in Ferris on Mount See All Island in an artist’s carrot above the Cafe Ok in old Moan Mart.
He said in those days, you might see John Paul Dart writing his book: “Extendulism, The Art Of Boredom” at a table outside.
He might be smoking a Galoshes or his pipe and maybe talking to Flambow, the poet, or Kinky, Rann May’s model and currant raisin.
“At any moment”, Randy Jim would say, “you might see Pueblo Paycosto, Winset Van Goth or even the ‘Moveable Fist’ himself, Ernie Heminghaw.”
Granddad said from his window, he could see the river Stain and the giant wheel from which Ferris got its name.
In the evening he said he would stroll the Bully Yard with Mangiggly Annie and slinky Juliet Geeko.
“As dawn crowed over the top of the Church Of The Sacred Cur”, granddad would say, “we’d stagger home, harm in harm,with a bottle of Dino and enough bread to bag it.”