I defy anyone to tell me they wouldn’t at least flick through a book with a title like this! I did, and ended up reading it through. And it’s a good read, although the story is a bit strung out, and I don’t mean drugs, although there is a lot about drugs in it. Also it is in diary form with a few jumps back and forward in time which I don’t find easy to follow. But, yes, a good read. On the cover it says that the book is about the author, Nick, meeting his father when he (Nick)e was twenty-seven and working in a homeless shelter, not having seen him (his father) for years. He’s a terrible case, the old man, but the reader feels sympathy for him despite his (very) obvious faults. He’s someone who never really got things together for himself or anyone else. It’s he who uses the phrase which is the book’s title, after another night of sleeping on the streets of Boston. Does this story sound a bit contrived? Maybe, but in fact it’s a true story. It’s not a novel. It’s a memoir.

Recommended.