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"I received a Fitbit for Christmas," reports Michelle Graham, of Hamlyn Terrace. "I finally got round to wearing it, and discovered that overnight I had walked some 173 steps. I even accumulate steps whilst I'm driving."

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"I've just heard Dr Finn Romanes, the Victorian Department of Health's senior medical adviser, say that the outbreak of salmonella in pre-packed lettuce was 'just the tip of the iceberg'," reports Adrian Paul, of Coffs Harbour. "Boom boom." Susan Osborne, of Miranda, heard this too and asks "Was it cos he was under pressure?"

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"No doubt Thursday's Freddie anecdote will lead to a flood of Trueman stories," writes Col Nicholson, of Hawks Nest, and we have seen a few. "I'll add one which tickled my fancy. A young fielder had just allowed a shot off Freddie's bowling to slip through his knees and and on to the boundary. As Trueman was walking back to his mark the bloke said, 'Sorry Mr Trueman, I should have kept my legs together.' The great man growled back, 'Not thee lad, thy moother."'

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"Returning to Sydney from Albury in the mid-70s a friend and I stopped off in a Goulburn pub, and asked the barmaid for two middies of New. It so happened that there were two empty glasses near by from some other thirsty travellers (service in the sicks, Column 8, for a while now). The barmaid took the glasses to a tap and proceeded to fill them. When we explained that they weren't our glasses she said 'Oh, do you want clean glasses?' We did. She continued to fill the used glasses, placed them in front of us, took two clean glasses from the rack and tipped the contents into the new ones."

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"To answer Suzanne Wicks' 'Why paper bags?' query from the other day, in the US you cannot have nudity and sell alcohol in the same venue," we're told by Gerry Brooks, of Haberfield. "If you want a drink in a Las Vegas club, the girls will only undress to a bikini. If you want to see the all-the-way girls, you cannot buy alcohol, but the doorman will happily tell you that you can buy beer at the nearby gas station and bring it back to the club, so long as it is in a brown paper bag – no plastic bags, opaque or otherwise, not even white paper bags."

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"I can testify for Barry Riley's sake (in your column of February 1) that the great singular pronouns still survive in the North of England," writes Thomas Keneally, who knows a thing or two about words (Column 8, since Saturday). "Recently, when I gave an after-dinner speech at Headingley for the Leeds Rhino Rugby League club, I found myself seated next to a charming but fabled Great Britain hard-man forward, and asked him who he admired amongst modern 'enforcers' in the game. He said in a gentle voice, 'I don't think I were enforcer', to which a woman across the table answered, 'No, thou weren't enforcer! Thou wert total nutter!' May 'thou' continue to reign!"

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"I realise that you want to shut down the hemiteleiation topic," concedes Seppo Ranki, of Glenhaven (Column 8, Saturday), "but you should not allow the 'Erko for King' declaration to stand on a false premise. The Metropolitan has been run at Randwick every year (bar one at Warwick Farm) since 1863, but never over a mile and a quarter. It has been run over two miles, a mile and a half, and mainly over a mile and five furlongs (or metric near-equivalents of 2400m and 2600m). I cannot see any of those qualifying as rhyming with 'water'." Countless readers have pointed this out. It's a shame when the facts get in the way of a good story, innit?

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"We had an unbelievable experience at a Killcare Beach cafe," writes Ian Clarke, of Charters Towers (service, of sorts, Column 8, for eons). "After asking for a dirty fork to be replaced, the waitress licked her finger, wiped the fork 'clean' and put it back on the table. We left and have never returned."

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"As an ex-2SM Good Guy of the '50s," recalls Phil Haldeman, of Woolwich, "I was known to enjoy the company of 'The Big Boy of Song', Norm Erskine. One day Erko✓ walked into a wharfies' pub, in Sussex Street, and asked the barmaid for 'A Gordon, J Farren✓ and Metro'p✓'. She asked, 'What's that?', to which Norm replied 'Don't you speak English, love? I want a Gordon and Gotch [scotch], J Farren-Price [ice], and The Metropolitan is run over a mile and a quarter [water].' I therefore declare Erko the Aussie king of rhyming slang hemiteleiation." Right, that's it – this correspondence is now closed!

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"When thinking about 2016 being a leap year, divisible by 4," muses Carolyn Molloy, of Pretty Beach, "I realised that 2016 is divisible by 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8 and 9 of the numbers under 10. 2015 can only be divided by 5. But can 2017 be divided by anything? Is this part of a pattern? Should I have known this for most of my 76 years?" Column 8 is fascinated by this sort of thing so we checked, and it no, it isn't. In fact, unlike 2016, 2015, or 76 for that matter, 2017 is a prime number. This isn't as rare as one might imagine – last "prime" year was only five years ago, in 2011, but we have to wait eleven more until 2027 for the next one.

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Under antiquated dining rules, "ladies" can be served beer in Riverina but only in a small glass, a reader writes.

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To stack or not to stack? A reader with experience in fine dining establishments weighs in on the debate.

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Australia Day is upon us, and we wish all our readers a grand time however they wish to celebrate, commemorate, or ignore, the event. We also note the dozens of clearway signs festooning poles around the inner city. Unfortunately, they all read "Clearway, tow-away zone, 6pm, December 31, to 5am January 1."

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John Grinter, of Katoomba, is one of several readers demanding an explanation of the word "hemiteleiated" ("No wuckers", Column 8, Saturday), claiming it does not exist. Well, it does, but we agree that it is deeply obscure.

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"North Sydney Council has erected signs at Balls Head Nature Reserve that read 'Cats Prohibited'," reports Simon Dodd, of Waverton, "and feature the silhouette of a moggy in a red circle with a strike through it, above a small print proclamation that the 'Penalty Exceeds $880.' This raises the question — who are these signs designed for?"

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"Rosie Miller's less-than-flattering critique of the collective pronoun "youse"may indicate an unawareness of its linguistic and uniquely 'youseful' development for acknowledging sets of discrete groupings," writes Frank Hinchey, of Hamilton (Column 8, since T'youse-day). "Recently my wife and I were waiting in a Newcastle fish shop for someone to emerge to take our order. We were joined by another couple when, a few minutes later, the attractive teenage shop assistant appeared from the kitchen, checked out the two waiting couples, and politely and professionally asked, "Which of youses was first?" So we now have a singular and plural of this collective term. Let's hope the dative and ablative will be available very soon."

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"I loved the 'RUD' acronym in Tuesday's column," enthuses Chris Mangan, of Bracken Ridge ("rapid unscheduled disassembly" of spacecraft), "which reminded me of one that my aviation friends swear is true. Unlike the RUD example, which is a softening of a harsh reality, aviators have been known to go the other way, and call the 'water landing' we hear about in safety demonstrations an 'aquatic deconstruction'. Apparently that's a more accurate description of what happens when you hit the water at 800 km/hour."

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"Unfortunately the useless expression 'walk the walk' has become popular with politicians, Herald letter writers and others," huffs Rob Hughes, of Oatley.

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"I am slightly hesitant, given the jinx that seems to bring bad weather whenever Column 8 mentions celestial events," frets our Cosmos Correspondent, Richard "Spacey" Macey, of Pendle Hill, "but here goes. It seems that the International Space Station will make a very bright pass over Sydney on Tuesday night. It will rise in the south-west at 8.33 pm, be directly overhead at 8.36, and will vanish in the north-east at 8.39 pm."

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"George Manojlovic's story was really interesting," enthuses Steve Davidson, of Warrawee (learning to pronounce English by stuffing a hot potato in one's mouth, Column 8, Friday). "When my mother arrived in England from Germany in 1936, her teacher taught her to speak with a pebble in her mouth, and she soon spoke without the least trace of any foreign accent."

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Success! Maree Kearns, of Katoomba, has come forward as the owner of the lost buckle found by Paul Duncan (Column 8, Wednesday) and confirms Sharman Lucas Palmer's theory of Thursday. "Yes, I was a student nurse at St Vincent's Hospital," Maree tells us. "The buckle holds significant sentimental value as it was my mother's, and her name is also engraved on it. In those days buckles were made of sterling silver. Shortly after my mother trained at SVH she enlisted as an army nurse, serving as a captain in the Middle East in World War II, and on the Kokoda Track. At the time I lost the buckle a friend was dying, so I had to let go of this material object and focus on the passing of my friend. The moral of the story seems to be, when one truly lets go there can be renewal. Thank you, Column 8."

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"Those who are not native speakers of English," ("priceless" and "worthless", Column 8, Tuesday), "might be also be challenged by the recent renaming of 'Toilets' in a nearby shopping centre to 'Amenities'," writes Jil Swinnerton, of Red Hill South. Column 8 believes that this is symptomatic of a wider malaise, to wit, the creeping tendency to employ tortured euphemism that seems to be infecting our language.

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More reports from the smallest room in the house (toilet paper marketing scams, Column 8, since Monday), firstly from Colin Mortimer, of Gilead, "I cannot see any difference in the diameter of the central spindle," Colin writes, "but I can tell Greg McCarry that the number of sheets per roll of toilet paper in the brand we use has just been reduced from 190 to 180. A neat little price increase that most would not notice." And Ken Armstead, of Lennox Head, reports that he "recently discovered, in a remote corner of the shelf in which they are stored, a toilet roll at least eight years old. The sheets in the current product of the same manufacturer are 5 mm less in running length than my ancient roll, a reduction of 4.34 per cent. There are many ways to skin the cat, and they obviously know them all."

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"I know you don't normally do lost and found," acknowledges Paul Duncan of Leura, "but recently I found a silver brooch or clasp in the street, 65 mm across with the letters SVH in blue enamel and engraved 'Maree Kearns 24/3/65 '. Perhaps one of your well-connected readers may know of her or her family so it could be returned." Paul's right, we don't do it very often, but after the successful return of Roy and Sue Belshaw's lost wedding ring last year, discovered by reader Bruce Delprado in the Snowy Mountains after 40 years in the wilderness (Column 8, April 29) we can't resist trying for another magical reunion.

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Under the heading "What price loyalty?" Mike Phillips, of Coolum Beach, reports that, "shopping in Coles today with my better half, I noticed that on a bill that totalled over $110, Coles awarded me a 'Loyalty Discount' of 1¢. Since Coles has correctly assessed the price of my loyalty, I'm now eagerly awaiting an offer from Woolies of 2¢ to make the switch – which, of course, I will do. A 'loyalty war' between the two grocery giants could become interesting."

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"Happy birthday!" greets Dave Horsfall, of North Gosford, "For, ahem, 1947. A lady never reveals her age, but a gentleman always will." It's true – Column 8 is 69 today. We may finally be getting close to an age whereby readers can realistically address us once more as "Granny".

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The stamp value discussion of recent days has taken a surreal turn, as we hoped it would. "After cleaning out my mother's home at Laurieton recently I found some Christmas stamps from the 1980s," reports Judy Walsh, of Stockton. "I enquired at the local Post Office about their validity for use on letters, only to be told that while they could be used, I would have to add on 10 per cent GST to the 70c postage, as GST had not existed at their time of purchase! I was taken aback that taxes could be retrospectively applied like this."

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John Birmingham, in 'The dark arts of a non-apology' (Herald, Wednesday) invents a new word," asserts David Lloyd, of Avoca Beach. "'Embiggened'. Heaven help us!" Column 8 has received many complaints about this, some more sulphurous than David's, and all clearly from readers not familiar with the city motto of Springfield, the home town of The Simpsons, to wit: "A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."

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An unexpected consequence of the ever-slowing pace of snail mail: "I received my ANZ Visa bill today (January 4)," reports S. Bricknell, of Mortdale. "The statement period is from 24/11/15 to 23/12/15, and the due date for payment is the 06/01/2016. I've never had a bill this close to the due date."