There’s a lay-by near a bridge. It leads to a village named after the bridge. There are a lot of zeds in its name. The village has a long, curling name like a snake. Damp parlour weather. A white showman’s trailer pulled behind a bull-nosed truck. Parked in the lay-by near the zed shaped bridge. Silver foil from a cake dropped on the rainy slate. Shines like an eye. A pair of boots lying on their sides as if they belong to an invisible gangster after a shoot out. We’re a long way from home, boys. The rain falls in a mist. Views of falling water. Slate shores. Bridges further below. Arches. Vertigo. Tall weather for tall tales. Invisible gangsters after a shoot out.