For no apparent reason Home Truths listeners are fascinated with eyebrows this week...

I was listening to your programme last week and heard a woman talking about knitting a jacket from dog hair. My mind wandered off onto things doggy. I remembered a Christmas day some years ago when I was bitten by a dog and spent much of the evening in casualty. This reverie was interrupted by a man talking on the programme about his increasingly uncontrollable eyebrows. Mine are behaving in a similar manner, and once again my mind wandered off, this time on things eye-browey. I was abruptly brought back to the present moment at the mention of king of the slide guitar, BJ Cole - for the dog that had bitten me was none other BJ Cole’s mangy mutt (whose name I forget) - is that spooky or what?
Richard Paul-Jones

I have rather bushy eyebrows. In the beginning I never really noticed them since they grew pretty slowly. But one day I found myself in Minneapolis on a winter's morning. The pavement was icy and as I tottered along I was dimly aware of footsteps behind me. These seemed to get closer so, for some strange reason, (I'm not normally nervous) I quickened my pace. The following footsteps also quickened. I went faster still. So did the footsteps. Eventually my stamina - never great at the best of times - gave out and I decided to let the footsteps catch up with me. A man overtook me. He immediately slowed down, turned round and, pointing at his own equally bushy eyebrows, said "You some kind of satanist?" I was too scared to reply.
Oliver Walston

My father had the most spectacular pair of bushy eyebrows - I have never seen anything like them before or since - they curled up and out and he was not in the least embarrassed by them. They were his trade mark, and made up for the fact that he was nearly bald. You could almost see his eyebrows entering the room before him, like the town crier. They acted as an antennae for other people to assess the mood of the day - benign or irritable, the latter giving rise to twitching or meeting together.
Sally Birtwell