You guessed it:

Flash Gordon’s Country Cottage.

Bought it off him for pence on the pound.

You should see the basement.

The Name’s Jack.


But you can call me Jack.

Or Rabbit.

Or JackRabbit.

Or anything else that tickles your fancy.

(Trust me. Whatever you’ve got, I’ve been called worse.)

Or you can call me Scot, which is what most people call me.

Like my parents, my siblings, my business associates…

Kids from school, oh so long ago…

spikes and crags
window washers

Everyone but my wife. ..

…who calls me JackRabbit.

And she ought to know.

But what’s in a name?

“A rose by any other name…

But I ain’t no rose. I ain’t no daisy.

I’m a man with a camera, and photos are my game.

Like ‘em? Good for you.

Join me down the Rabbit Hole.

Not so much?

Catch you on the funway.

Good luck to you, whichever way you flip, flop or fly.

Or hop.

But remember: Hop is the root of all hope.

If you buy into that sort of thing.

But that’s a lousy way to go down.

narrow falls