Sentence The Threehundredth
After balconing around the Scott Monument in a snowstorm, and repeating that circumnavigation at each level – yerking himself upwards in defiance of gravity and of the elements – Young Reekie perched on the very summit for the nonce, just long enough to take a selfie and post it on Twitter, when he received a text from his Daughter Isabel, “come awa doon, Dad, yer 71 no 17, yer Grandweans need a Grampa wi his feet on the grund, no a lump o strawberry jam on the pavement,” and, with an abject sense of the embarrassment he had brought on his family, blushing to his roots in shame, he descended by the interior spiral staircase and slunk towards Waverley Station for the last train to Tweedbank from where he would catch a bus to Melrose and join the gang in the Ship Inn in time for “Last Orders”!

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