Trolley travails

A DIARY diatribe involving an infuriating supermarket customer reminds Bob Byiers of an equally frustrating experience. 

Arriving at the check-out with only two items – the essentials of life, a bottle of gin and one of tonic – Bob found himself behind an elderly lady who kindly observed, "You only got two items?", raising our correspondent’s hopes of an early advancement in the queue. 

Alas, such hopes were cruelly dashed when she added: "I think you'd better find another queue. I've a whole trolley-load here."

Hard to swallow

SPENDING time with the family is illuminating, says Malcolm Boyd from Milngavie. He recently stayed with his daughter and her family at a hotel up north. 

When Malcolm joined them for the buffet breakfast, his five-year-old grandson announced he was ready for his fourth breakfast. 

“What are you going for?” inquired Malcolm.

The little lad’s GP father replied: “Type 2 Diabetes.”

Never embracing embracing

THE Diary takes a keen interest in social anthropology, and recently noted the curious evolution of the reserved Britannic handshake into something more ebullient – the full-on hug, no less.

Russell Smith from Largs defiantly boasts of his refusal to join what he scornfully refers to as “the over-enthusiastic hug-hugging and kiss-kissing modern fraternity of casual meetings”.

But how does he dodge such dubious dalliances without turning himself into a social pariah?

It’s simplicity itself, says Russell, who explains: “I let myself off the hook when an exchange is imminent with a quiet, ‘Best not. Remember what happened last time.’ Danger averted.”

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Food for thought

A CULINARY conundrum from Beverley McCabe, who says: “Rice is perfectly acceptable in a tortilla. So why not a sandwich?”

Fibber’s truth

ALCOHOL often leads to argy-bargy, notes reader Larry Harvey, who was in a Glasgow boozer the other evening when a young debutante snarled at her beau: “Yer a pure liar, so y’ ur.”

The beau, who was perhaps more gallus than gallant, parried back: “I mibbe a liar, but there’s nothin’ pure aboot me.”

Literary let-down

ANOTHER tale of true lurv. Years ago reader Chris Robertson was suspicious that his girlfriend wasn’t entirely committed to the relationship when she used a variation on the ‘washing my hair tonight’ excuse.

When Chris suggested going out for the evening, she replied: “Can’t. I’m staying home to re-read Proust.”

Black humour

DISAPPOINTED reader Geoff Lambert tells us: “I thought I’d found a document proving that my family once owned a blacksmith business. Turned out to be a forgery.”