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We head to this dingy flat—smells like fags and regret. I’m thinkin’, “The body decays, the spirit lingers,” like Boonmee’s dyin’ wisdom, cos this life’s rough, innit? She’s crackin’ jokes, though—says I look like a toff who’s lost his castle. Cheeky mare! I’m lovin’ it, cos she’s got banter, and I’m a sucker for that. “You’re a rare one,” I tell her, and she winks—pure class.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I thought we were done with that! I’m standing there, drenched, and Jamie’s laughing his head off. I’m like, “This is not funny, mate!” But I can’t help but laugh too. It’s just classic Scottish weather, right?

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