The truth is in the potatoe.I've been to one hundred countries from Antigua to Zimbibwe in search of meaning to this life and it always comes back to this;the potatoe will show you the way.And you.you clapped-out mindless excuse for mankind, looking for wisdom with your made-in- Albania Walmart guitar that couldn't be kept tuned by a blind harpist but what difference does it make when your audience,insensible to rhythm or harmony ,wouldn't know a B flat from a basement flat.

The potatoe MacLeod,follow the potatoe.And what an opportunity you have been given,waking up in Prince Edward Island where the tuberous root grows in such splendid organic glory.I have eaten the original spud in its native Peru ( and thank God for Genetic Engineering for it resembled nothing more than the shrivelled testicle of a lemming ).G K Chesterton said 'Pray for peace and grace and spiritual food ,for wisdom and guidance,for all these are good.But don't forget potatoes'.Were I you,I'd just stand in a potaoe field from dawn till dark and feel oneness with the soil till the truth of the potatoe touches your soul and teaches you what poets always have known 'the true cause of sand and stone'.Don't make the mistake of Saint Augustine who's pursuit of God led him to stand around for thirty years in the deserts of North Africa contemplating earth that would not support a radish let alone the noble potatoe.He wasted a lot of time that boy.

So take stock MacLeod of this Dadaist life of yours with its two and a half cord hurtin' songs;this blind search for wisdom (and atonal pubescent females) when the answer is so close.There's gold in the Yukon but there's Yukon Gold in Sobeys.