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My mother used to tell the story of an uncle who had a job pushing a broom in a Glasgow dancehall. At half-time the dancers cleared the floor and the entertainment came out: four men in uniform pushing brooms to the tune of the Colonel Bogey March. Once the whole family once went out to watch him at work, as if he were a celebrity.
My uncle highly recommended education, to both women and men, as an antidote to a life of pushing brooms. When I was little, I often heard him say, "Ach. They educated folk think different." My granda would say: "Think different-ly. Speak proper!"
My uncle would respond: "They're on a whole other echelon, nevertheless."
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