Nosy parker notices nose job (Rousse)

Posted on April 7, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The old photos proved it. JC had had a nose job in the 1990s!

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Thick Rousse

Posted on April 7, 2020 by Dreamaticus

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’.

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Dreamers reunite in London love nest (Rousse)

Posted on April 7, 2020 by Dreamaticus

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.)

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A coronavirus lockdown bike ride to Luce (Rousse)

Posted on April 4, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The building work at the St James Centre finally complete, our flat on the ground floor of John Lewis now had a big picture window that looked out on to a massive plaza. Of course, a corollary of this was that anyone who walked past could peer into our sitting room.

Before long we were hosting streams of friends who ‘happened to be passing’. Many were from the #EdCM era: NP, DTJ; KJ; AC; DJ; WB; SC… We served drinks (tea, coffee and red wine), played videos of past parties, danced, and generally enjoyed ourselves. Best of all, AC played the double bass, and the rest of us showed our appreciation by circling round him. We were so overjoyed (and relieved) to be reunited once more.

I left the room when KT rang the doorbell. She had come to seek advice on photo books: should she order soft copy or hard? Then she invited me on a cycle ride to Luce in Dumfries and Galloway. I jumped on my bike and followed her – in shorts and a vest top, but no helmet and no hi-vis clothing.

We cycled on and on and on – and then it started to get dark, but KT would not turn back. I eventually persuaded her to stop and she agreed that we should find some accommodation for the night. This was impossible due to the Coronavirus lockdown restrictions. Not a single bed and breakfast or hotel was open.

We ended up breaking into a village hall to spend the night in accommodation last used by the Brownies.

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Midges put off move to Lochinver (Rousse)

Posted on March 31, 2020 by Dreamaticus

TPR and I took temporary accommodation in a Lochinver hotel. It wasn’t very suitable: whenever the tide came in, our room was flooded with sea water and the occasional fish; the bathroom was barely a cupboard; and poor security encouraged random scally-wags to come in and poke at our belongings. I did, however, like the towel rail, which was fashioned from the frame of a rusting old bicycle.

I already had a job offer under consideration and my eye on a permanent property overlooking the harbour, but now I was having second thoughts about the move. What about the midges in the summer, and what kind of price would we get for the Edinburgh flat post-coronavirus?

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Boris Johnson Coronavirus date (Rousse)

Posted on March 28, 2020 by Dreamaticus

Boris Johnson broke all the rules when he walked into the bar and plonked his bulky body down onto the seat right next to me.

‘I hope you’re still up for our date in Pitlochry tonight?’ he croaked through his fever.

‘No way!’ I cried, ‘Get away from us all – NOW!’

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Manchester venue sought, good acoustics essential (Rousse)

Posted on March 27, 2020 by Dreamaticus

There was very little that could be salvaged from the manuscript after the reviewers savaged it, so I gave up on the job and instead responded to EH’s pleas for help.

Just pregnant with her third child, EH was dealing with two crises: (1) coping with the outrageous demands of a newly-appointed member of staff and (2) finding a venue with good acoustics for a one-day conference in Manchester.

I climbed into the open ‘boat car’ and drove down the M6 with EH and DG. However, I regretted my decision as soon as I realised that this trip would involve an overnight stay. How would I ever get back to Edinburgh in time to attend the following day’s poster presentations by my immediate colleagues?

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A failed rail journey to Northfield (Rousse)

Posted on March 26, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The young woman and I left the Chil gig and walked to the small railway station.

Our journey home should have been straightforward, but we missed one train because we weren’t paying attention to the platform announcements, another because we didn’t realise that trains to Oxford and to Small Heath stopped at our destination, and a fourth because we couldn’t find platform M.

Then we stuck up a conversation with a young engineer who was lingering by the train commandeered by the BBC as a media centre. We were now completely distracted and unlikely ever to return to Northfield.

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Scottish Highland secret 1920s house and garden (Rousse)

Posted on March 23, 2020 by Dreamaticus

The huge house in the Scottish Highlands was hidden under fifty years growth of vegetation. To anyone passing it was just an ancient ruin invaded by rampant weeds.

But I had a feeling that I had been here before. Wasn’t there a beautiful Chinese water garden here, brimming with waterlilies and rare fish? What about the house itself and all those interesting artefacts collected by its former owner?

When I pushed at a loose stone in the mossy wall, it crumbled to the ground. The next stone along also disintegrated with a small shove. Before long, I had cleared so much of the wall that I could see one of the ancient ponds, and it was teeming with koi carp.

Beyond the ponds I noticed a door that was built into an intact side of the old building. I negotiated my way across several linked pools to reach it. On the inside, everything in the house was in a good state of repair. From the layout of the rooms and their contents, I remembered that this was the home of a famous scientist, and that it had been open to the public in the 1970s.

Then, on a back stair, I came face to face with a woman in modest 1920s dress. This was the housekeeper, just one of several staff who still lived here in secret. I swore that I would never reveal anything about my visit, nor those who kept the supposedly abandoned house.

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John Cleese distraction (Rousse)

Posted on March 21, 2020 by Dreamaticus

My latest excuse for my late manuscript was that John Cleese had booked into the George Hotel, Edinburgh to write his autobiography. How could I keep up my typing when he was in such close proximity?

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