Читать книгу The Pawky Scot - Graham Moffat - Страница 4

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Though not an Aberdonian I confess that I have a modicum of canniness. When a boy, and living at Jedburgh, my brothers and I were allowed twopence each Saturday to buy ourselves mutton pies. One Saturday night my father discovered me sitting in a corner of the parlour absorbed in gloomy meditation, my week-end coppers still in my hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "haven't you bought your pie?"

"No!" was my tearful reply, "I've been round all the shops and I can't make up my mind which has the biggest ones."