Duncan Harley

Accused by a Tesco checkout operative of having a 'senior moment’ following an attempt to press the number 9 on her checkout keypad I remonstrated. “The number nine doesn’t work” I said. “try again” she said. “it still doesn’t work” “Give it another go and see what happens” This time the keypad took the number and the shopping was duly paid for. “The keypad does have a problem” I told her. “I mean it really is old and worn so no wonder that the nine is knackered. If I was you I would report it. I mean, it might be the eight next and then the seven.” “Maybe you’re having a senior moment” she said as she ducked and covered behind the corporate barrier. All well and good then. But in the big scheme of things I prefer the uncaring anonymity of Lidl or that big Morrisons up at Burghmuir. At least the keypads work and the uncaring folk behind the tills don’t condescend the customers. There is more @:  The History Press   and of course the Beatles...

When I first moved to the capital of the Garioch I was warned by a Tesco checkout operative that George Square was a noisy place to be. Backing on to the Academy playing-fields the AB51 post-code seemingly attracted screaming lunchtime children and lost cricket balls into the adjoining gardens. I recall saying something like “I really like the sound of children enjoying themselves, after all I was once one myself.” The till operative seemed bemused at my reply and has since been retired – or so I am led to believe. I did enjoy the daily spectre of lost balls and, on occasion even got to throw them back into the field at the bottom of my garden. In fact, on one occasion, a trio of enthusiastic cricketers rang the front door-bell intent on retrieving the object of their desire. “Is it ok if we go into your garden to look for our ball” they asked. “Of course, go for it!” came the reply. I have not seen the lads since and hope that they both found the ball and made it...