The view from my desk was one over Chamberlain Square in Birmingham. I watched as a woman reversed out of an office door and eventually emerged wielding two 30-foot fishing poles. The first thing she did was bring bring down a telephone wire.
I charged across the Square to challenge her. Had she reported the damage? Why was she just smirking at me? She frustrated me so much I tried to strangle here, but when that didn’t work, we became best friends.
I was being manipulated into declaring war against Spain. Spain’s solicitor had written to me asking for its assets back. Without permission, my solicitor had replied that Spain could go stuff itself and we’d see it on the battlefield.
AO was so severely dyslexic that he bought me a fancy pencil case with the boy’s name Mark incorporated into the design.
When I questioned his choice of present, he confessed that he had no idea what the text said. However, he thought that the sprig of purple flowers on the front might indicate my name.
Three decades after graduating with our first degrees, several of my peers were once more taking rooms on campus. I had two sets of accommodation to organise: (1) at the University of Birmingham; (2) in France.
In Birmingham I showed off the large mounted diamond that DT had given to me in 1985. It was one of my most precious possessions – until another graduate asked me why I had been carrying a shard of back-lit glass around with me for all these years.
In France I discovered that university admin staff now speak English, but are still rather rude.
Demelza Poldark planned my summer holiday for me.
At the first conference Fiona Bruce treated me with respect, and even gave the impression that she would like to be my friend. That said, she still managed to convey a sense of superiority over the academic delegates. It did not go unnoticed that while the rest of us travelled in economy to Australia, she and a giggling friend enjoyed the comfort of first class.
My relationship with Fiona soured when I withdrew as keynote speaker from the second conference. She was unwilling to accept that I felt burnt out. She was also furious that I had only given her a week to fill the speaking slot, even though I explained that all my slides were written and that someone else might be willing to deliver the presentation. The whole situation was made even worse when I insisted on staying on at the conference as a non-speaking delegate.
Amidst all this bad feeling TPR discovered a new batch of long lost relations at the conference. He was completely distracted by this opportunity to fill in gaps on numerous branches of his family tree.
We had been ‘volunteered’ to take a Chinese man and his elderly mother on a tour of the Scottish highlands.
The ‘elderly mother’ seemed rather childish to me, stuffing herself with sweets in the front passenger seat of the car. When I peered over from the back to get a better look at her however, I saw not an old woman, but a toddler.
She was not pleased to be wrenched from the front of the car and strapped into a seat at the back.
We also ensured that she had a proper early bedtime when we returned home.
Initially I was delighted with my new ‘leg wrap’. It folded around my entire lower leg and knee to form a new, attractive skin. Only after the seams had magically joined together did I worry about the fact that now one leg was considerably fatter than the other.
Cliff Richard showed an extraordinary degree of interest in my love life, and was rather surprised when I admitted to having three ‘proper’ boyfriends plus a husband of 30+ years.
He had assumed that only a mad spinster would send him such bizarre fan mail and beg to accompany him on his next flight. While we sheltered from a downpour in a huge commercial garage, I hunted for a photograph of TPR in his ‘pool lizard’ pose to prove that I was not lying about my marital status.
As soon as the rain stopped I led Cliff along the pavement, shielding him as best I could from the prying eyes of the general public. It was clear that many people recognised him, but most were kind, allowing us to go about our business without interruption.
I was on stage facing a line of dignitaries, including Donald Leach and former Moderator of the Church of Scotland Alison Elliot, to be awarded my latest undergraduate degree (classification 2:2).
I took great care when asked to sign for the certificate, deliberately flourishing the beautiful red-barrelled pen that KT had recently given me as a present. I did so in the full knowledge that Elliot had initially offered the pen as a gift to KT herself. Elliot was quick to notice this. When she asked in loud stage whisper about the origins of my pen, I told the truth: ‘It was a present from my friend KT’.
As soon as I was out the hall I rushed off to find KT. I needed to warn her that she might be in trouble with Elliot for ‘regifting’ a present to me. I found KT just along the corridor from the classroom of Upper Five Alpha, undertaking some work for the school bursar (her ‘office husband’).
KT didn’t care about any offence that the former moderator might take. ‘Doesn’t everyone pass on presents from time to time?’ she asked.
Dreamaticus 