Dreamaticus

The residential staff retreat was a dreary affair. As I stood in a queue waiting for my turn to take part in the next ‘exciting’ activity – charity shop shopping – my mother-in-law lifted my woollen jumper to check that I was properly dressed underneath.

‘I know what you are like in your family’, she muttered. ‘I just want to be certain that you are not wearing your scruffy old pyjamas under this seemingly respectable top’.

Due to my position at the back of the queue, my opportunity to rake through the second hand goods in the charity shop never materialised. Instead I was shooed into a packed lecture theatre. Here I recognised several staff from the University of Edinburgh, including one of my cousins. When he stood up a couple of rows ahead of me to make an announcement, I felt a rush of family pride.

I was somewhat disheartened, however, when a small man with dark close-cropped hair and dressed in a blue suit, responded to the announcement with a comment about my cousin’s poor navigation skills. While everyone else laughed, my cousin’s face reddened.

I poked Mr blue suit in the shoulder blade and glared at him. Then I stood up, announced my name and institution, and said a few words in defence of my cousin.

In response, Mr blue suit, who I now knew to be from the University of Nottingham, sneered at me with the advice that it was pointless to stand up for the ‘Nonsense Norwegian’.