Banter with Chris Packham and the deathbed wedding of a soap opera character (Belle)

Posted on June 17, 2020 by Dreamaticus

I stood at the prison gates to see my friend PB released. He had been (wrongly) accused of being a suffragette and had been subjected to force feeding.  We went home and when I opened my fridge, every item in it had turned mouldy.

Meanwhile the sparks between me and Chris Packham were really flying. I’d been playing it cool, casually turning up to the bar on Monday evenings and ordering vodka and orange. Our banter game was strong and there was electricity in the air.

I wandered away from him because I was needed at the deathbed wedding of Raquel from Coronation Street. After the ceremony, we stood her up so she could wear her going away outfit and the heel on her gold shoe broke. I rolled my eyes. What a waste of money.

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Cat photos lead to fame (Belle)

Posted on June 14, 2020 by Dreamaticus

I became world famous for my photographs of cats lounging on and in limousines in India.

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Magic tricks for UK research council panel members (Rousse)

Posted on June 13, 2020 by Dreamaticus

I had a busy day ahead with a research council panel meeting in the morning followed by an operation to remove a facial skin cancer in the afternoon. CO was on the same schedule as me so – as a distraction – we spent our last night of relative freedom performing card tricks on other members of the panel.

While CO played magician, I took on the role of a regular punter. In reality, however, I was covering up for CO’s mistakes as he handled the deck. Happily the panel members were completely fooled and enjoyed the show.

Afterwards I asked CO about AM’s whereabouts since I had not heard from her for some time. ‘She’s working in Finland during lockdown’, he replied.

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Avocado bathroom suite in the museum of sanitation (Rousse)

Posted on June 12, 2020 by Dreamaticus

Dozens of bathtubs hung on the walls and from the ceiling of the saleroom. The most precious and elaborate had been recovered from ancient archaeological sites. Much of their value lay in their beautiful mosaic decorations.

To my surprise and delight, several modern coloured bathtubs formed part of the display. Some were even corner baths. I was particularly interested in the orange and green samples, delighted that these were ready for sale. Now I would be vindicated for holding on to the avocado bathroom suite in my own flat for 30 years.

However, I was to be disappointed. This was not a saleroom, but a museum of sanitation. The likelihood of anyone wishing to install an avocado bathroom suite in 2020 was the same as that for the accidental discovery of an ancient mosaic bathtub under the lawn of a suburban back garden.

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A fat boyfriend and flowers (Rousse)

Posted on June 7, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The small reunion organised our university friend JK gave my sister J the opportunity to relive one of her wittiest comments. With my ex-boyfriend ST seated at the table quite close to TPR, she reminded everyone that her first comment on my new beau in 1983 was ‘Isn’t that ST, just a bit fatter?’

Meanwhile my attempts to encourage JK and JM to converse on the topic of the Netherlands fell flat. This was because JK was embarrassed that JM had brought me a bouquet of flowers, whereas he had not.

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An unplanned wedding and retro hooligans (Belle)

Posted on June 5, 2020 by Dreamaticus

When I checked the agenda at the Women in Industry event, I was horrified to see that an afternoon session had been set aside for me to marry D, a married man with a thousand children I’d crushed on for years.

It was unclear whether he knew anything about this scheduled wedding. I was already wearing a vintage wedding dress that I had last worn to a university formal in the 1980s, but I was wearing bedroom slippers. My hair was a mess, my face was ugly, and I had no friends with me. To make matters worse, delegates were expressing their anger that a wedding had been scheduled to take place in the middle of their conference programme. I tried texting D, but my phone wasn’t working. This was the most humiliating day of my life.

What saved me was the entire conference was evacuated via bus to Oxford. There we gathered in a town square while police approached two older men, dressed in black and white stripes, larking about in a fountain.

“We identify you as the Blackburn Rovers Bovver Boys, and you are arrested”.

I was then called upon to explain 1970s football hooliganism to my fellow delegates. My reputation was restored.

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New boys in town (Rousse)

Posted on June 5, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The first duty of CM’s three boys when they moved up to Edinburgh from Leeds was to surprise me at 6:00am on my birthday.

The little one was most enthusiastic, especially when I said that I would play board games with him. Monopoly was his first choice. To the eldest I explained that I was also skilled at the more serious games, should he ever like to indulge in Settlers of Catan or Carcassonne.

They were all interested in my birthday presents. These mainly comprised slabs of expensive chocolate. CM himself reckoned that many of my well wishers were sycophants, attempting to curry favour by sending me birthday cards.

Meanwhile TPR wondered whether CM would make a good running partner.

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The fifth Beatle (Rousse)

Posted on June 3, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The black and white press photograph of a beaming TPR sandwiched between Paul McCartney and George Harrison was all the evidence that I needed to account for his absence from home in the whole month of January.

Now I knew that he’d been living it up with his celebrity friends as the fifth Beatle.

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Barry Cryer’s autograph (Rousse)

Posted on June 2, 2020 by Dreamaticus

I overheard Barry Cryer’s minder announce to the theatre staff that his boss was waiting in the car outside. I followed him back out to the street, then asked him if he might be able to ask Cryer to sign a scrap of paper for me. This would make a great birthday present for TPR.

Cryer was delighted to contribute to the birthday celebrations. Rather than use paper, he signed his name on a white balloon (which looked rather like his head). When a gust of wind pulled the balloon out of his hands and sent it flying over a fence, I persuaded Cryer that an autograph on a thin sheet of paper from a receipt book would suffice.

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Butler dinner guest seeks opinion of Michel Barnier (Rousse)

Posted on May 30, 2020 by Dreamaticus

My parents’ house was so vast that it was hard to keep track of all the family members and visitors staying there.

One morning I was appalled to find a tramp asleep under a brand new duvet in one of the bedrooms in my suite. Then downstairs I discovered a gang of academic staff from Robert Gordon University watching a video of the University of Edinburgh graduation ceremony. Most surprising of all, my youngest sister was at home in a bedroom that was almost tidy.

SM was also in residence, wandering the corridors in a formal outfit that confused everyone. Was he the butler or simply formally dressed (super-early) for dinner? When he asked my opinion of the latest interview with Michel Barnier, I lied that I had slept through it. I was too ashamed to admit that I hadn’t followed a word of the discussion.

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