For some reason, I keep dragging myself up high places. The top of the Wallace Monument in Stirling, for example. Or, as today, the top of the tower on York Minster.
Why do I do these things?
I've a pint of BFG and a laphroaig in front of me, to steady my nerves before going for a hog sammitch.
There must and shall be pig!
: J. drags me up there really, but always says "you don't have to come" afterwards...