Love ma tender

TO maintain the historic enmity with the Auld Enemy, the Diary likes to occasionally publish stories where a haughty English sales assistant fails to recognise the validity of Scottish money waved in his face. This usually leads to a Braveheart moment, with the Scotsman bellowing: “Legal tender, legal tender!” while the simpering shop-fop twirls his Terry-Thomas moustache diabolically and continues to reject the perfectly viable currency. Author Scott Hames reports a disturbing development in these notorious cross-border skirmishes. “Just spent a Scottish tenner in a London bookshop without complaint or even polite interest,” he reports, then adds, quite understandably: “Absolutely livid.”

Bearsden brought low

THE recent mention of the word “scheme” in the Diary reminds John Dunlop from Ayr of a tale of bitter class conflict. An East Dunbartonshire council official was describing local traffic-calming measures to a meeting of Bearsden residents. “You will note the signs on display as you enter your scheme,” he began. And got no further. The residents, not used to hearing their lush and leafy enclave of Eden described in such a base manner, were furious. The tawdry-tongued official managed to escape with his life. Though we doubt he’s been invited to any of Bearsden’s dazzling cocktail soirées since the shocking incident.

Saucy thought

COMEDIAN Ashley Storey has a capital idea to improve Scotland’s capital city. “Someone needs to open a drag club in Edinburgh called Salt and Sass,” she says.

Outstanding longstanding

THE Guinness Book of World Records is already on sale, so it’s too late for children’s author Robin Mitchell to get a mention. A pity as Robin has beaten a long-standing record for long standing. The Edinburgh-based scribbler managed to loiter without intent outside the Ensign Ewart Pub in the capital for four days and 20 hours. Of course he didn’t manage this feet-throbbing feat without help. A kindly accomplice brought Robin much appreciated food and drink after his flask rolled away and a Tupperware box stuffed with sandwiches was nabbed by a seagull.

Illuminating letter

OUR tale about the confusion created by an innocent request for a bottle of Connell’s lemonade reminds reader Margie Dobson of a teacher who went by the name of Miss Connell. This moulder of young minds once received a letter from a parent, addressed to a Miss Candle. Cynics will no doubt claim this shows a lack of spelling ability amongst the mums and dads associated with the school. We prefer to see it as the attempt of an especially star-struck parent to celebrate Miss Connell’s divinely luminous classroom presence.

Housing crises

ENDING with a dash of daftness. Robert Courtney visited a friend in his new house. Robert’s friend told him to relax and treat the place like his own home. “So I threw my pal out,” says Robert. “I wasn’t in the mood for visitors.”

Read more: Harland & Wolff, Govan, 1951 and 1960