I hadn’t seen TS in years, yet he treated me like a long-lost sister. His generosity knew no bounds when he presented me with a family heirloom to take home: an antique Christmas-decorated serving dish.
When he wandered off through the house to look for something else, I noticed his distinctive dress. He was wearing the garb of medieval knight, identical to that in one of LBL’s watercolours. How was he connected to her? Was the plate really one of her belongings?
We would surely lose the competition if the black Labrador – friendly up until this point – continued to refuse to be carried on my back.
When it bared its teeth at me yet again, I suggested that perhaps we should call Mary and ask her to do this round?
I invented a new paint colour – “Italian Holiday Green” and it was a roaring success.
Then I got married to a celebrity. The wedding was ‘promenade style’. My new husband and I walked through a succession of Arts and Crafts era wooden homes and I wore a floating lilac dress. Then we happened upon a ‘stadium funeral’ for six families. I tried to buy tea and fairy cakes for my new husband with a 500,000 Euro bank note. Fortunately my husband intervened before I made even more of a fool of myself.
When we got home we dried the dog on the radiator.
When TPR cruelly divorced me, I was desperate to find a new partner. It soon became obvious that the gap in age between me and my first choice second husband (VJ’s son C) was too big to bridge, so I had to seek elsewhere.
I approached Susan Calman’s ex. To my astonishment she immediately accepted my proposal! We quickly married in a leather sofa-ed hotel lounge in front of a random set of witnesses: two nurses, my old boss JH, and gatecrashers RK and TMcE.
I soon wished that I had spent more time getting to know my new wife before taking her down the aisle. I was appalled when, straight after the wedding, I discovered that she was a smoker.
I was probably an easy target after TPR left me. When I awoke, I knew that I was in a hotel bed in Italy. I could also remember taking a walk through the woods with a nice man called Peter the previous afternoon. However, I had no memory at all of the evening.
When I went downstairs, the staff congratulated me on my auction ‘wins’. I took a bar worker aside and asked about my purchases – and my drinking. Seemingly I had spent a fortune on fine art but very little on alcohol.
Then I found a scribbled note and a photograph in my pocket. Peter, who thanked me for a lovely night, was looking forward to seeing me the weekend after next. I recognised him in the photograph standing next to one of the T twins, most probably HH.
I could only conclude that Peter had spiked my drink and taken advantage of my unconscious state. When I next saw HH, she confirmed that she knew Peter and that this was the kind of behaviour to be expected of him.
It was an easy drive in two cars to the Yorkshire Dales for a weekend away to celebrate my birthday. It was only when we reached our destination that we understood why the roads and villages were deserted: coronavirus pandemic lockdown. Our hotel was probably closed too!
It was too late to turn around and drive home again so instead we continued on to AG and LG’s farm. If they were also in lockdown, then their rental cottage would be empty.
LG did well to hide her shock at seeing us. She graciously showed us around the accommodation, made us all a bowl of porridge, and left out boxes of cereal for our breakfast.
Once settled, we discussed our plans for the next day. If everything was closed, how would we entertain ourselves, and where would we eat? GC held up his gout-ravaged hand and pleaded with us not to abandon him in the lonely cottage all by himself. It seemed that the only real option would be to set off straight home again after breakfast.
A small brown cloth badge stitched in white with the letters T, H and S caught my eye on eBay. Someone from my old school must be selling on the site.
The same seller had posted a chipped Blue Peter badge (not in such good condition as my own). Then I spotted a small white card badge with the word ‘Team’ written across it in biro – in my handwriting.
Somebody, somewhere, had raided some of my most precious items and was selling them online!
The old photos proved it. JC had had a nose job in the 1990s!
While sections of the lecture made sense, I couldn’t understand its content as a whole.
Afterwards I volunteered to for the equivalent of blackboard duties. This task involved unpinning newspaper cuttings that the lecturer had pinned to a huge piece of rough blue cloth, then taking the cloth itself down and folding it up.
At the other side of the hall I could hear people muttering, somewhat incredulously: ‘Yes, she’s related to the famous philosopher, his economist daughter, the Olympic rower, and the Canadian ice hockey professional’.
Several academics associated with the EPSRC’s Digital Economy theme were milling around Heathrow airport, including JB, MC, and PE (who happened to have recently appointed one of my PhD graduates in a Research Fellow role). They all greeted me on the assumption that I was heading north to Scotland, like them.
In reality, I was on a quite different mission: to spend the night in London with my beautiful Belle. (My husband need never know.)
Dreamaticus 