Highland traffic problems (Rousse)

After a comfortable night in a remote highland bed and breakfast, the following morning I was appalled to find that it was located next to a huge roundabout at the intersection of several motorways.

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Poultry parkour, a strawberry queen and Harry Potter decoration (Belle)

I was sitting outside a cafe with my very old flame JHI when we saw Deptford’s famous ‘free-running rooster’ tumbling elegantly across the rooftops. I made an oath not to eat roast chicken that day.

The documentary short featured the best strawberry picker of 2018. She came from the Isle of Wight and was filmed rescuing feral puppies on the cliff paths of the island. I admired her auburn hair, and hated her for it.

Daniel Radcliffe and Rupert Grint had waited over ten years for the cast of the TV programme Changing Rooms to finish the makeover of their bedrooms.  Everyone seemed to find this hilarious.


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Sisters on the run (Rousse)

I joined a family of dog-lover runners. Whenever they came back from the supermarket the sisters ran behind the family car, pulling the dogs alongside them.

The only difficulties arose when the sisters accidentally fell out of order (the two fastest were meant to be at the front), or a dog got caught up in blue roll.

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Vending machine temptation (Rousse)

I lay under the vending machine eyeing the US equivalent of a Kit Kat that was almost out the drawer, unwrapped. When I could not bear it any longer, I gave into temptation and licked the chocolate.

Of course, now I had to pay for it. I only had a commemorative four dollar coin on me, and this would not be accepted by the machine, so my next trip was to the bank to get some change.

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Belle’s beard

I wished I hadn’t looked in the mirror.  Not only did I have stubbly beard, I also had what were known as ‘apple-cheek whiskers’.

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To the reunion by pram (Rousse)

My sisters brought my mother to the Manor House reunion, wrapped up in a blanket, in a baby’s pram.

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A failed escape from a crime scene (Rousse)

We were staying in a beautiful tall detached house that was second from the end of a row of similar buildings squashed together in a densely populated part of the city. If you glanced up at the skylight over the bed, you could see the top window and rooftop of the house next door.

One day I was idly gazing upwards at the skylight when I heard a strange noise. Then I saw that a ladder had been placed against the neighbour’s wall, and a succession of youths was scampering up it. They did not look like workmen: they were burglars!

I wanted to raise the alarm, but a face stared at me directly through the window with a silent warning. As the witness of a crime able to identify those responsible, I was in grave danger. I needed to escape across town as fast as possible.

I ran out into the street to board on the first bus that appeared, dragging TPR along with me. I tried in vain to communicate to him why I jumped each time a new person joined us on the top deck.

When a Malaysian woman approached me with her hand extended, I knew that to take it would be dangerous. She crushed my fingers into my palm, as if to warn me to flee – or face the consequences.

Then the man at the window came up the steps. This was it. I was in mortal danger, yet unable to communicate this to anyone fast enough to save myself.

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