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My neighbour recommended a good way of getting some money fast before I left for Scotland. A bag-packing/bucket collection at a supermarket. This sounded a good idea but I had to act quickly as they normally have extensive waiting lists. This turned out to be the case at Sainsbury's and Tesco but the woman on the phone at Morrisons didn't know. She told me to write a letter and hand it in to customer services under the code name, D. Bowen. So I put the phone down and that's what I did. I Slid the letter down the back of my shorts and blitzed it out of the garage on my dad's old racer. I'd reached around halfway there and had nailed the hill leading to the roundabout. I was feeling good, really good. I arrived at my destination in no time and was in and out and back on the road in two shakes of a dog's undercarriage. Having said that, it was quite an eventful ride. I'd passed a dead rabbit on the way, seen Frodo in the supermarket (well a guy that had 'Frodo' written on his back) and eaten a fly. He'd flown straight into my throat causing me to gag and weave down the road. I thought I'd swallowed him down, but a moment later I knew I hadn't. I ground to a halt and almost chundered on someone's front lawn. I held it in though and took a big gulp. Scotland had made me a brave man.