Whatever that means

Loch Sween


Feeling none the worse for 46 hilly miles yesterday, I got sent to the farm down the road to pick up some lamb chops for laters’ barbecue. It was going to be a scorching day of charred meat. Sausages on the beach at Stromfield, swimming (for those that do that kind of thing), sleeping for the rest and a spot of pointless fishing.


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This entry was posted on July 31, 2012 by in The Bank of Me.
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