The task at last night's writing class was to produce an acrostic of Campbeltown. The muse (it must have been McGonagall) suggested this:
Cantankerous old sandstone town
Accretion of cold and windy streets
Marinated in whisky kiln
Perpetrated on sea loch shore
Beneath the green of Kintyre's hills.
Expecting miracles and yet
Laying down hopes, making way for
Tesco's octopoidal outreach
Or Skykon's breath of better times
When ferries ran to other shores.
Northern Ireland, won't you save us?
I'll get my coat...