There was no grand procession of friends and relatives, no triumphal arch of poles or axes, no congratulatory handshakes or slaps on the back, no celebratory drams or popping of corks. There was, however, low cloud and heavy early-morning dew, ensuring that the time spent on the summit of Hownam Law was as short as possible, as I quietly slipped into the Upper Hall unaccompanied. This hill was one of several bagged during a productive weekend reiving on both sides of the Border. Although I knew I was close to the special occasion, it was not until I returned home that I was able to establish which one was to receive the honour of being my 1000th Marilyn. The palpable lack of sociability shown on Hownam Law was repeated a few months later, when I may have appeared to have been fleeing from our member from Rattray as we descended from Meall Tairneachan. Sorry Bert, I was only trying to catch up with my car passengers (AD: Actually, Mr Grumpy told me that he was avoiding you).
