JS didn’t take her new job as a part-time park keeper very seriously.
She took our money for half an hour on the tennis court, then bunked off to play tourist in Oxford for the rest of the afternoon.
JS didn’t take her new job as a part-time park keeper very seriously.
She took our money for half an hour on the tennis court, then bunked off to play tourist in Oxford for the rest of the afternoon.
Where was Belle? She would be able to tell me more about this Westminster dance club and its amazing ballroom.
Taking into account the clientele, I couldn’t decide whether this was the coolest disco ever, or a marriage market for the truly desperate.
I remembered my request for the removal of the multiple choice section from the Knowledge Management exam. Instead, the students would be required to answer three essay questions rather than two.
On the day of the exam itself, I took a seat in the exam hall amongst the students. When I turned over the paper, I was shocked to discover that every essay question was about four densely-typed pages in length, and all concerned details (and somewhat impenetrable) plans to makeover an urban garden. I had no recollection of making this change. None of the students would be able to make any sense of this!
I saw a couple of the class members afterwards. ‘We’re meeting in the pub to celebrate the end of exams. You are not invited’ said a boy in the lift, pointedly.
Ian Rankin (30) nodded with approval when I told him that nobody in our family of five owned a car.
He also shared his excitement at developing a friendship with someone as old as me, and confirmed that he too knew Dave the Buddhist.
QL rang me in a panic.
‘Lucy thinks that the reunion is still on. She didn’t receive the lockdown cancellation email. She’ll arrive in Edinburgh tomorrow.’
I ignored the message – indeed forgot about it – until the following afternoon when I finally dragged myself out of bed. It came as quite a surprise to find Lucy, her husband Nick (0r was it Mark), their two little girls, and a baby in my kitchen. Lucy was unloading the dishwasher, almost managing to find the right places for most of our crockery and cutlery. Meanwhile Nick/Mark was discussing structural changes to the flat with an architect friend who had found access to a hidden loft above the hall ceiling.
I had made no provision for overnight visitors, but guessed that the two older children could sleep on the sofas in the sitting room while the parents took the futon in the study. Nick/Mark, however, was set on sleeping in the cellar and had already started rearranging the bikes and garden equipment so that he and his wife could put down a mattress on the dusty concrete floor.
This was all too much for me. All I wanted to do was to join KA and EA in a small wooden boat for a row across the lake in the summer sunshine.
The dead kingfisher’s beady eye stared back at me as I considered adding its head to the stock, along with the latest copy of the Information Professional.
I was free ranging around the British Library’s ‘crazy project’ department finding ways to stealthily join the workforce. With my simple yet effective suggestions I was already making an impact and that was before people noticed my thigh-high leather boots. I had the brains and the legs to really go places. Certainly Rory Kinnear seemed to think so. Apparently he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
AC was an utter idiot. His offer to help with the gardening translated into ‘I will chop back to the roots the most beautiful clematis in the Edinburgh New Town’.
My father-in-law proudly showed off his new wheels: a small-scale red double decker London bus. This was not the most practical of family vehicles, especially since its brake was of the same design as that found on a child’s scooter.
Meanwhile his wife (my mother-in-law) spoke enthusiastically of her plans to emigrate to Australia.
The theme of the staff Christmas party was Stockton-on-Tees. This was possibly in honour of me and EH, although we could not be certain. Whatever the reason, we were well qualified to comment on the town. I joked that we could even sit on the ‘Stockton shelf’ ourselves amongst the other souvenirs of Stockton that our colleagues had accumulated as we reminisced about drama classes at the Dovecot and school visits to Teesside Polytechnic.
The Secret Santa prize draw, however, was not Stockton-themed. I ‘won’ a grotesque plastic pendant. The main ‘crystal’ was a lump of clear plastic the size of a small matchbox. From this hung a ‘jade’ waterfall of green plastic fronds. It was truly hideous.
After the party I gave EH advice on kitchen planning and car purchases. She needed a new oven to cook game for a funeral in Derbyshire, and wanted to replace her ancient brown Range Rover. I suggested that she speak to VJ about kitchen upgrades. As for the car, I remembered that MB was about to offer hers for sale.
‘So long as you’re not recommending that I meet your cousin BB again’, said EH, ‘I will do anything you say’.