The chair man

FEW people are based in offices nowadays. White-collar workers prefer to lounge at home with buttocks on sofa, plate of Kit Kats on lap, TV remote control in hand and telly on Netflix.

In some distant corner of the room lurks a laptop, too, which is occasionally glanced at, in between episodes of Better Call Saul.

But once upon a time, before the jimjam generation rose to ascendency, men and women journeyed into town to sit behind desks and do something called work.

They even had heaps of paper on their desks, which we’re reminiscing about.

“A boss I worked for had four piles of correspondence,” recalls Bryce Drummond from Kilmarnock. “As well as the usual IN, PENDING and OUT, he had one for tough decisions, which he filed under his chair.”

Agog at cog

A DIARY yarn about a wonky steering wheel reminds Peter Sommerville from Greenock of an aeronautical incident, when a plane had to jettison its cargo of car spare parts, leading an intrigued observer on the ground to point out that it was raining Datsun cogs.

Hot take

A THRIFTY financial thought from Sid Leslie from Kirkintilloch: “In this time of spiralling energy costs, if you happen to be one of those lucky people who have money to burn, this may turn out to be your cheapest option.”

Absurd word

DAFT pub conversations. Reader Arthur Fradgley was in the boozer, chatting to a pal about American culture.

“You know they call a frying pan a skillet,” said Arthur.

His friend pondered this for a long, contemplative moment, then said: “So in the States, do they say pandemonium or skilletdemonium?”

There was really no answering that.

Naughty knotter

PHYSICALLY-fit reader Dean Pearce once worked as a PE teacher. The department head was an eccentric chap, always finding fault with pupils.

He once complained about a particular youngster, saying: “Have you noticed the way that lad ties the laces of his trainers? Never trust a boy who can’t do a proper knot. They’re always up to no good.”

Rum goings-on

OVERHEARD in a Glasgow city centre café by reader Janet Harvey. A lady loudly explaining to her friends, in no uncertain terms, the rule of life she always abides by. “I don’t share my rum,” she proclaimed. “Sorry, I just don’t. Though I’ll happily give you the empty bottle.”

Sound judgment

“I USED to have a friend who constantly changed the noise her alarm clock made,” says Sandra Bruce. “I wonder what she’s getting up to now?”

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