Monthly Archives: July 2011

The assassin’s wife (Rousse)

I wept on the number 11 bus as it worked its way through the Leith traffic. When the stranger came over to comfort me I listed all my woes: I was always getting lost on public transport (especially trains to … Continue reading

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Scandinavian packing essentials (Rousse)

I made it to Finland with only one packing mistake: no gloves. My hosts assumed that we knew that gloves were essential all year round in Scandinavia. For this reason they had not warned us that they were a necessity, … Continue reading

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The FBI get their man (Belle)

After carrying out an elaborate armed robbery, the man in grey army fatigues (how trendy he looked!) went on the run in America and I floated along beside him for the ride. Was I his conscience? The narrator of a … Continue reading

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Campus horror (Rousse)

We were excited to learn that our new colleague held a degree in hospitality management. As well as returning financial order in our group, she offered to bring salads to all our Friday meetings. Just as I was thinking what … Continue reading

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Do you wear underwear with leather trousers? Is a tandem a useful weapon? How do you converse with the dead? Rousse investigates…

I sat with the Spanish holiday-makers in the leaky summer house looking out at the torrential rain. It had been pouring for weeks. Would the sun ever make an appearance this “summer”? Bored with the weather, I made a dash … Continue reading

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Promoting public libraries and chaos at work (Rousse)

I was super keen to show BR the publicity material that I had developed to promote public libraries. She picked up my MacBook, adjusted the settings (I had no idea that the screen was detachable), and clicked “play”. The video … Continue reading

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Haunts old and new, and party dresses (Rousse)

The small Birmingham back garden was crowded with people clamouring to climb trees, the shed and the summer house. Even I managed to scale the trunk of a bare apple tree. From the top I looked back up the garden … Continue reading

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