John Gibson: Digging for Gold along Princes St
While I’d never wish to be involved, I do have, as they say, a hankering for Miss Gold. It goes back some. When we met for the first time in Edinburgh she was 35, divorced and had re-married to a City trader.
Recourse to the Gibsonfile serves as a reminder that she confronted me with quite a blast. “You expected Bet Gilroy in fishnets, didn’t you? You’re going to be disappointed. As far as I’m concerned, I’m a businesswoman. When men discover I’m not tarty they’re disappointed.”
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Hide AdI felt obliged to inform her that the thought had never crossed my mind.
I was allowed to linger briefly on the opening of the re-designed Summers lingerie shop in Princes Street. At her behest, the cubicle in the new-look store had small spy holes in the wall at eye level. I didn’t take a peek. Honest.
I have to say, Miss Gold springs to mind every time I pass that Princes Street window. It’s not a hanging offence.
We want Dave
You don’t see David Bellamy on the telly any more. Too precious a voice to be shunted into oblivion, I say.
Get David to read the news prime time. Still a live wire who’d appreciate encouragement.