Always was something of a peacock. Martin Hunt’s eye-catching tartan jacket was his trademark over the 17 years he ran public relations firm Tartan Silk. I must have ruffled his feathers, his plumage, a few times.
Today he tells me, he’s taking flight. “We’re re-locating from our basement offices in Dundas Street, from the New Town to premises in the vicinity of the Parliament.”
Marty (he detests the contraction from Martin but I can’t resist ruffling his feathers just one more time) adds: “I used to live in the New Town, so you can still call me a New Town boy. I plan to add some much-needed colour to the Holyrood area. Tartan Silk will stay in the forefront of the PR business.”
His last word: “This jacket, by the way, it’s the Lindsay tartan.”
Everybody’s been talking about the 63-stone teen, told to shed 50 stones now. Or die. They’re blaming it on her mum, claiming she’s been stuffing the lass with everything that’s bad for her.
They’ve even had to break down the wall so they could get Georgia out of the house. The 19-year-old has been self-incarcerated in it for three years.
We are torn between sympathy and gluttony for the girl. Prospective Georgias can be seen wobbling along Princes Street every day.