The wife of reader Daniel Burns isn’t an especially romantic or sentimental lady.
In the early days of the marriage Daniel once arrived home from work bearing a gift of a bouquet of flowers.
Did Daniel’s wife swoon, sigh or swipe a happy tear from her blushing cheek?
Nah, not her.
Instead, she snorted censoriously, then harrumphed: “What kind of weed is that you’re holding in your mitt? Well, just remember, when those petals fall off, you’ll be the one hoovering them up.”
Back to the steam age
The other evening reader Martha Hunter was in a wine bar, gossiping with a few gal pals, and one member of the group mentioned a bloke she had recently dated.
“He had this weird energy about him,” said the pal.
“What, like electricity?” asked Martha.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said the pal, “more like steam power… or steamin’ power. He got all fidgety when he was stocious.”
Fighting talk
We live in a revolutionary era.
Reader Rebecca Norton was in a pub in Glasgow’s west end, and she heard two female student-types discussing a political event they would both be attending.
“So,” confirmed one of the students, “on Wednesday we smash the patriarchy.”
She then paused for a contemplative moment, before adding, “but what should we do on Thursday… go to the movies?”
Brought to book
More from the world of academia.
Alan Rice was browsing in the Waterstones bookshop on Sauchiehall Street, and overheard two students talking.
Said one to the other: “I’m studying Paradise Lost.”
This inspired the other to say: “So, do they ever find it? Though no spoilers, please!”
Fast times
Reminiscing about the good old days, Tom Flynn says: “When I was a kid I had a pal called Andy Zoff… fastest boy in the school hundred metres.”
Egg-citing? Not really
When she was younger, Jenny McLean went on a family holiday to Spain, along with her mum and grandmother.
Gran wasn’t especially delighted to be dragged abroad, though on the beautifully maintained beach Jenny turned to Gran triumphantly, and said: “You have to admit Gran, this is rather nice.”
“What’s nice about a bit of sand?” grumped gran, adding, “you get plenty of sand in an egg-timer, and I’ve never seen anyone get all hot and bothered about an egg-timer.”
Communication breakdown
Frustrated Matt Davies says: “There’s been a letter on my doormat for almost a week. “There’s no way I can reach it, because on the front of the envelope it says: ‘Do Not Bend’.”
The Diary is published twice a week on the Herald website - on Thursday and Saturday mornings. And on Saturdays in the print edition of The Herald. Do you have a tale to tell? Contact The Diary on 07375 137 824 or thediary@theherald.co.uk
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