Careering towards oblivion

A DIARY yarn about the ambitions of the young reminds reader Gwen Davies of her high-school teaching days, when she once asked a group of dynamic young scholars what careers they were hoping to pursue upon leaving the education system.

One lad, slumped at the back of the class, thought long and hard about this conundrum, then came to an eminently wise conclusion.

“I’m no really bothered aboot jobs,” said he. “What I want tae know is how soon until I can retire?”

 

Barking mad books

HAVING discovered that Edinburgh’s libraries have thrown open their doors to the local canine population, we are now trying to decide what books the literate pooches are most likely to borrow.

Gordon Fisher from Stewarton concludes that historically inclined hounds would read about their ancient and primitive past, when dogs were larger, growlier and very rarely visited the poodle parlour.

The book they would study to learn about such times would, of course, be titled… Jurassic Bark.

 

Bog-standard building

THE changing face of the West of Scotland.

Ian Forrest from Laurencekirk notes that a new Clydeside hotel is being built with many interesting features, including two bars, co-working spaces, a gym, a rooftop terrace, and, perhaps most impressive of all, a movement studio. 

“That's a bit posh,” says Ian. “We just call it a lavvy or cludgie."

 

Bar-room badinage

THE Diary has been reminiscing about the Great Glen Cattle Ranch, where cowboys, very much like John Wayne, moseyed around the Highlands.

Cameron Merriweather from Larkhall admits that all this talk of hombres on the range reminds him of the story about the cowpoke who owned a three-legged dog.

On one memorable occasion the mutt hobbled into the local saloon and said to the barman: "Am lookin’ fer ma paw."

 

Neigh good news

THE other evening reader Graham Harris was in the local boozer with a pal.

The pal, who is a bit of a grouch, was complaining about getting older, and what that will mean for his overall health.

Graham slapped him on the back, then said: “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re as fit as a horse.”

“Well, that’s no good, is it?” countered the pal. “It just means if I ever break one of my legs I’ll get shot.”

 

Dead reckoning

THE story of life, in two helpful sentences, from reader Terry Reeves, who says: “One day you’re the best thing since sliced bread. The next, you’re toast.”

(Sigh. Ain’t it the truth?)