A coach change in Aberdour – and not Holy Island (Rousse)

Once I started collecting my sister-in-law SMcC’s cast-off clothes it was certain that we would never be able to carry everything home. I blamed TPR for bringing the huge television screen on the trip. Then I noticed the holes in the peach cotton jumper that I had acquired. Perhaps this wasn’t worth taking home after all?

My route north included changing coach at Aberdour (which I initially mistook for Holy Island because it was so foggy). Nearly all my PhD students were there, including LA (smoking) with his three year old, and a new student called Leanne. The latter sported red hair and wore a bright pink shell suit. I overheard one reveal a secret to another. I could not tell if this was done deliberately, but I was somewhat alarmed at the implications of the revelation and its potential impact on submission dates.

I had set off without telling TPR. He couldn’t possibly bring all our belongings back on the train all by himself. He was going to be furious that I had abandoned him. I wanted to ring him to apologise, but the numbers on my iPhone had vanished and I could not remember how to use a rotary dial on a traditional telephone handset. Even SL couldn’t work out what to do.

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