29/08/2026
๐ช๐ฒ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐ฎ ๐ป๐ฒ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฃ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ ๐ฎ ๐น๐ผ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ด๐ฒ๐ ๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ. ๐ข
His name is Trevor. He's a tortoise, hand-knitted and crocheted by local artist ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ป ๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐, and he comes with his own illustrated story: ๐โ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ฃ๐๐, also written and illustrated by Doreen. In it, Trevor roams the countryside, gets a bit lost, and eventually finds his way to Penicuik, where he wanders into the Penicuik Paper Making Museum next door and decides it's the cosiest place he's ever seen. So he stays, as you do.
And here's the thing. That's not as far-fetched as it sounds.
During the 19th and 20th centuries, Penicuik was one of Scotland's great papermaking towns, importing enormous quantities of esparto grass from Spain and North Africa. The grass was harvested straight from the wild and bundled into bales for shipping. Mediterranean tortoises lived in the same scrubland where the grass grew, and they'd sometimes get swept up in the bales by accident. Once the bales arrived in Penicuik, the tortoises would climb out and wander around the town.
This actually happened. Tortoises. In Penicuik. We're not making this up.
Trevor, it turns out, is just the latest in a long line of tortoises who decided Penicuik was worth the trip. He has impeccable taste, and apparently no sense of urgency about the journey.
He has a habit of turning up in different corners of the shop too. We're never quite sure where he'll be next. Tortoises, eh.
Trevor is ยฃ5. The Tale of Trevor is ยฃ10. Both available at the Press, separately or together. Come in and say hello, if you can find him.
