Coo-ee. Hello, I’m still here. Some people think Elvis is still alive but, more worryingly for me, some people think I have popped my clogs.
, some readers are apparently checking the obituaries. One gracious lady came up to me in the cafe in Lews Castle on Monday and told me how glad she was to see that I was not poorly but sorry that I was no longer writing for the P&J. She had rushed to a conclusion without checking any other day’s paper.
My namesake, Ian Maciver in Breaclete on Bernera, known to all as Kitch, can also relax. He’s been asking why my distinguished features were no longer gracing the Wednesday edition. Will someone please tell Kitch to get the P&J on a Thursday? Tell him I’ve given him a name check so he should place a regular order.
Deal? Like Mark Twain, who was said to be dead or dying when he wasn’t, I find it quite funny. Twain wrote a letter to a newsman saying: “The report of my death was an exaggeration.” As I am writing this, I can just announce that I’m in fine fettle and confirmation of that will appear each Thursday right here.
The gracious lady at the castle then surprised me by asking if I knew the price of toilet roll. I thought that was a trick question – like when they ask new MPs and old PMs if they know the price of milk to try and show they are out-of-touch. I often buy milk and bread myself and I wouldn’t have a scooby about the cost.
Nor have I studied the pricing and exigencies of the market in toilet tissue. Her qu.
