Vegetables like your columnist believed implicitly in the war-time adage: carrots make you see in the dark.
The much-hyped slogan got our bomber pilots eating carrots for supper before they flew off in their Lancasters to blitz the Germans.
They could see the fighters coming at them and, better still, they could see where, exactly, they were dropping their bombs.
My mother would make me down a glass of carrot juice from carrots she’d grated with her bare hands, squeeze the goodness.
“Get that down you son,” she’d say, “and you’ll grow up strong.”
Fast forward to scientists saying today that carrots, whole or liquified, are good for us.
A couple of gallons of carrot juice at Easter Road could well work wonders for Hibernian.
A mighty Gail
Good God almighty, I wondered when I saw a national newspaper headline “Dame Gail’s starry soiree”. Don’t tell me they’ve given Gail Porter a damehood when I wasn’t looking!
Anything can, and does, happen these days and maybe Gail’s copped a gong behind my back.
She hasn’t, of course. The headline referred to London publisher Gail Rebuck, else our Gail with an Edinburgh connection would have been out and about with her loud-hailer letting the world knew all about it.
Keep your all-hail Gails for other days. She’ll be hatching something while we wait.
Song for Hibs
When the moon hits your eye like an Easter Road pie, that’s amore. Never mind what anyone else says.