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"...I was pottering about in the kitchen one evening, nibbling on a scotch egg, amending a newspaper article about the joys of country living and generally savouring the musical flavours of ‘Leaving Stoer’ (lovely melody) wafting from the lounge where our youngest daughter was playing the piano, when I decided to open the kitchen window and sample the summer evening fragrance, completely forgetting that animals thrive on routine and have an intuitive sense of timing. It was fatal. There was no hand to feed the chickens this time, just my full frontal ‘scotch egg nibbling features’ sampling the aromas of a peaceful summer evening. What happened next was not pleasant and just goes to show how a temporary lapse in memory can have dire consequences. My scotch egg fragmented, the melodic sound of ‘Leaving Stoer’ was drowned by splutters and shrieks and a degree of facial pain inflicted, although it has to be said that my reactions have always been of the highest calibre and apart from some slight trauma, minor cheek indentations and a bruise on the back of the head caused by a collision with the window frame I survived the onslaught. As luck would have it there was a second scotch egg in the fridge (they often come in pairs, you know, the bigger ones anyway) which I consumed shortly afterwards behind closed windows as I nursed my wounds and prodded my indentations..."

(Extracted from The Bit in the Middle: the curiously comic tale of a gardener in the Scottish Highlands.  An Ebook by Patrick Vickery)

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