Yesterday, Palvashay and I were wandering around the city, debating what to do with ourselves. We decided against museums and galleries, because it was a nice day, and we figured we should make the most of it not raining. After a while, we gave up and were heading back to P’s flat, when we walked past the Scott Monument. I mentioned that you can go up it, and P’s eyes lit up. She said “what, right to the top?” and off we went.
There are 287 steps to the top, but there are different platforms in between, so you don’t have to do them all in one go, like the 311 steps of London’s Monument. It’s the biggest monument to a writer in the world. Charles Dickens was unimpressed.