Squatter, do your fellow co-workers know about this wild, poetical streak in you? Why is it we can live our entire lives in a place and never get around to taking in the local "attractions"?
If ever I get to visit England, I'll now not only have to make a pilgrimage to the Good Professor's final resting place, but will also have to make a side trip to the very spot where our plucky Downer scaled the fence.
Perhaps I'll leave a bit of Elven rope behind to aid any future visits.
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