All doubts removed

ONLY in Glasgow, one wonders. Deedee Cuddihy was coming out of Queen Street Station when she noticed a large number of fag ends stuck into the crevices between the bricks on a wall, giving almost a modern art effect with the brown and white of the ciggies sticking out at different angles in contrast to the colour of the bricks.

Her reverie was broken by a passer-by who explained: “It’s to avoid getting a fine for flinging them on the grun.”

Band on the runs

OUR story about the Shotts and Dykehead Pipe Band reminds Gordon Casely of the late Harry Dutch, then public relations boss of the old Glasgow Corporation organising a trade promotion in Hamburg. Says Gordon: “At a well-attended planning meeting in the City Chambers before departure, the effervescent Harry reeled off the names of the parties involved in the trip, then got to the band which in his enthusiasm he referred to as The Shites and Dockhead Pipe Band.”

Crowning moment

A MILNGAVIE reader tells us she returned home after a bracing walk in the country and asked her daughter what her favourite season was. Her daughter merely replied: “The second season of Game of Thrones.”

Feeling Shepish

WE mentioned the sad death of Blue Peter favourite John Noakes, and Robert in Stevenston tells us: “In the late seventies I was walking along Brodick Pier when I noticed that John Noakes, apparently a keen sailor, was on a boat tied up at the pier where he was sitting on deck reading a book.

“For some reason I shouted out to him, ‘Get down Shep!’ which I thought would bring a smile to his face. He lowered his book, looked me in the eye, and in a Yorkshire drawl told me quite explicitly where to go.”

Lagging behind

WE asked what you did at school which you haven’t done since, and Lesley Barrow in Edinburgh explains: “In the French lesson, tiny overcrowded room, my friend and I sitting at the back, enjoyed a competition of picking asbestos off the lagged boiler beside us to see who could drop the biggest flakes on the floor. We’re both still alive, but neither of us are any good at French.”

Climbing the wall

AND after a reader talked about gym attire, Jack Lovie in Irvine says: “I once attended a mind-numbingly boring talk given about the speaker’s early school days, only enlivened by his observation that ‘those were the days when the girls wore navy knickers for gym’ at which point a member of the audience shouted out, ‘Lucky Jim!’”

Well trollied

JOHN Bannerman from Kilmaurs was at a supermarket car park in Kilmarnock where a chap collecting trolleys was stopped by a pensioner who asked: “Can I get one of those trolleys?”

Says John: “With a straight face he simply replied, ‘No you can’t. I had to go and collect these 30 trolleys myself.’ After a few seconds of disbelief on her face, all three of us burst out laughing. Good to see there is still a sense of humour in auld Killie.”