Tut, tut, tut, we’re talking tattoos. Well, Joan Bakewell, below, is and I feel close to what she’s saying, possibly because (and yes, I’ve dined out on this) we shared topside of a bed during the Festival once.
Never to the point, it must be said, when I challenged Joan, with if you show me your tattoo, I’ll show you mine. We couldn’t because our bodies were never sullied so.
But I concur wholeheartedly with the tattoo craze as she’s savaging it today. Get on yer, Joan.
Scouts’ honour. Does it mean anything any more? Can’t say, honest. Long time since I wore the uniform. And I can’t recollect what I wore in the name of founder Baden Powell. Or what rank I held.
There are, though, some stout Scouts at large. They meet regularly, some two dozen of them, in the Iona Bar, Easter Road.
The big one’s coming up. Originated in 1923, the 154 Leith Group celebrates its 90th anniversary with a dinner in the Royal Overseas League, Princes Street, in November.
Jim Donaldson (443 2685) and Adam Raeburn have details. My troop, 3rd Leith, met in a church hall in Constitution Street. Wish I could claim it made a man of me.
...What will it take to bring Colin Nish, below, back to Easter Road? After all, there isn’t a blade of grass there that his posterior hasn’t flattened.Answers on a postcard.