Robertson Davies, an amazing author, read him if you haven't, nothing quite like him.
We used to drive over to Windsor to get scones, black currant jam, six packs of hard cider, Labatt's, and then we'd drive down to Point Pelee in Lake Erie to fish for smelt all night (and play music and drink homemade blackberry wine)with with the Scottish-American League ruggers. That's how my first guitar got its first scratches, at one of those gatherings, from the belt-buckle of a rather inebriated man who was playing "Scots What Hae" or maybe it was "Donal, whar's yer troosers".
If that ain't content, I dunno what is, eh?
Blessings,
Barbara