Who needs a magnet when you could get toilet paper?

I walked into the National Museum of Scotland the other day. I was going to the gift shop to ask  about quaiches. Quaiches are a small bowl with two handles; I believe they were traditionally used for drinking at festivals, ceremonies, banquets, etc.

I have been requested to pick these up by a member of my family. And, as all things that cross the ocean from this country to my homeland, upon crossing, these will be renamed and used for a completely different purpose than their original. In America, these will be called 'porringers' and be given as baby gifts. Really, quite more sensible than a medeival goblet of sorts. (No, really, that is a much more sensible use.)

I may write the National Museum when I return and suggest this marketing strategy of 'porringers' versus 'quaiches'. Because who knows what to do with a Quaich in their living room, while people know exactly which china cabinet in which to put a baby gift. However, as the oh-so-helpful staff at the gift shop continue to say 'Quaich' with quite some emphasis anytime I begin a conversation about porringers, it may take them some time to 'cozy' up to the idea.

Moving on, to my gift from Scotland.

At the time I went to inquire of the porringers (spread the word, it's going to become a thing), I was slightly sick. After getting the information I needed about the porringers, I went to the loo to get some toilet paper to blow my nose. All of the stalls were taken, but the cleaning gentleman was in their cleaning the sinks. I saw a role of mostly-used toilet paper next to him and I pointed and said, 'Can I take some? I just need to blow my nose.' He was a bit confused but just said, 'Oh, yeah, yeah,' Once he understood what I was asking.

I was pulling some off and he said, 'Take it.' I looked up and said, 'Excuse me?'

'Take it, just take it,' he said.

Now, I don't know how many of you have experience with industrial toilet paper role, but for those who do not, let me enlighten you. It comes on a large awkward role, not just like your regular Charmin roll. As I stood there holding a roll that I could most likely stick my hand through I said, 'Oh, no, no, thank you, I just need...'

'No, take it,' he cut me off.

'But really, just a...' I tried to continue, finally tearing of my bit of toilet paper.

'You never know when you'll need it,' he said to me.

I just couldn't fight him anymore. I resignedly stuffed the large role in my huge green school bag, which made it sit awkwardly under my arm.

'Well thanks, thanks a lot,' I said as I smiled and walked towards the door.

In proper Scottish fashion he slightly grunted and nodded, while still working on the bathroom counter.

And in my bathroom to this day (not that many days after) still sits my National Museum toilet paper.

As the title says, who needs a magnet?