I am standing on an almost deserted beach in North Berwick, a crumpled map in hand, attempting to get my bearings.
My eyes flit across the Firth Of Forth. Damn. I wish I’d brought a compass. A couple of walkers scurry past, wrapped up against the biting February cold. I notice the curtains twitch in the window of a nearby house, and return to the task at hand. Concentrate.
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