Tree-mendous victory

WE return to the topic of people who have a name that fits them more snuggly than a pair of Marigold gloves.

David Donaldson notes that Glasgow recently had a tree-hugging competition.

Curious enough, you may conclude. And you’d be right.

More curious, still, the winner of the event was a lady called Hannah Willow, which seems far too appropriate.

Our research shows that Hannah was indeed the perfect candidate for such a triumph, for she practises yoga and forest bathing, and has even authored a children’s book about a hedgehog.

What the Diary demands to know is if the tree that Hannah hugged was warned before it received a cuddle from a random stranger.

Some Scottish trees can be very standoffish, after all.

They just want you to leaf ‘em alone.

 

Boozy booky badinage

HAVING discovered that there’s a watering hole in Glasgow that celebrates the world of literature, we’re recalling books with a boozy aftertaste.

David Morrow suggests the tragedy that is "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Firewater", a tale of bitter self-awareness, where the protagonist realises he’s too young to legally take a slug from the goblet.

 

Thorny dilemma

A TRAVELLER’S tale.

Irene Thomson from Broomhill tells us there’s a new bus stop in the village of Toward, where Irene’s daughter lives.

Unfortunately it was installed the wrong way round, so travellers are forced to climb through a thorny dog-rose plant to gain entrance.

Once inside the bus stop, the more observant locals quickly realise they are facing the wrong direction, unable to see the bus for Dunoon approaching.

Luckily buses are noisy beasts, so prospective passengers just might be able to hear one approaching.

Then it’s a hasty clamber through the dog-rose, and onto the bus…

 

Munchy mix-up

A FRIEND of reader John Mulholland phoned his local restaurant.

“Dae ye deliver?” he asked.

“No, sir,” came the reply. “Only beef, lamb and chicken.”

 

Games people play

KNOWLEDGEABLE Doug Glover was telling his teenage son about the classic Victorian pastime, quoits, which involves chucking metal rings at a nearby spike in the ground.

“Quoits, eh?” mused the young chap. “Sounds quoit entertaining.”

 

Legging it

ANIMAL-LOVING Mark Campbell has been mulling over buying a greyhound.

“What on earth for?” inquired his wife.

“Well, I could race it,” suggested Mark.

“My money’s on the dog,” said his wife.

 

Double trouble

NOSTALGIC reader Jane Heaton tells us: “I dream of being 16 again, so I can ruin my life differently. I have new ideas.”