Tiffany Blue box “engagement” mystery (Rousse)

“That Tiffany Blue box from New York, what’s in it?” I carefully chose the moment to pose the question that was on everyone’s lips. The pair of us were bound together by rope, clinging to a mountain ledge, and RL had no escape without me. Eventually the response came. It was a non-commital “She’s plastered it with hundreds of home-printed labels that say ‘Do not open’. That’s all that I can reveal”. Conversation was more forthcoming at the summit. From here RL pointed out Glasgow, the Outer Hebrides, Northumberland, Newcastle and Birmingham. I had no idea that you could see so far into the distance from the Pentland Hills.

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On another day we went office mountaineering. This comes highly recommended, particularly in large, cluttered open plan offices. It’s so much fun to clamber over desks, tables and filing cabinets and see who can reach the end of the room first without their feet touching the floor. On this occasion we were in the headquarters of STV. The boss was so impressed with our performances that he threw me his tatty brown wallet and said that I could take out as much money as I liked to sponsor my next conference.

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I was in someone else’s taxi, heading in the wrong direction, and very late. After the driver dropped the German at Haymarket Station I asked him to turn round and retrace the route back into town. Somehow I would find TPR and SB. If only I could get the dratted Dreamaticus app (the one that maps dreams to locations) to exit, I could then check my iPhone contacts to see if I still had SB’s mobile number.

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