Chipping in

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I OVERHEARD two lads talking this morning. One said to the other: “I want chips tonight.” The other must have mumbled a response, because the first added: “No, real chips. I mean OVEN chips, not them things they make frae tatties.”

Well done McCain’s, I suppose, but I am of an age when I am much closer to the exit door than life’s way in, and I do sometimes wonder, with examples like this, whether I am about to leave the world in safe hands.


Calton Road