I plonked my PhD thesis on the top table, muttered an apology to Theresa May, and returned to my own seat.
Although she had a lot on her plate, I was confident that she would still have time to take good care of my magnificent tome.
I plonked my PhD thesis on the top table, muttered an apology to Theresa May, and returned to my own seat.
Although she had a lot on her plate, I was confident that she would still have time to take good care of my magnificent tome.
Apparently I was on a mailing list for male escort services. Three potential ‘dates’ turned up at the conference and exhibition at which I was working.
I found the first two deeply unattractive. One of them was showing me his portfolio. He was particularly proud of a photo shoot in which he posed with a bear while riding a panther. They wanted to charge me £500. I didn’t have that kind of money. The third escort only had one leg, and was cheaper.
The short escalators appeared to lead up from the shopping centre to the grand entrance of the new, super-posh solid marble hotel. However, anyone who took stepped on to them discovered that they were fake, and stopped short of the anticipated destination.
It was all an elaborate ploy on the part of the hotel owners to give the impression of accessibility, yet – in reality – keep out the riff raff.
AJ persuaded me to take one of his yellow blow-up canoes and bounce downstream with the flow of the furious little river to the sea.
This was all well and good, but would I have the strength to paddle against the flow on the return journey? (And what if I had a puncture?)
It was quite an arrival as a huge chauffeur driven car took us through the hotel lobby and directly to the check-in desk. My father was impressed.
Later I met my youngest cousin P on a bridge. He told me he was learning to be a ‘bone engineer’ in Mexico.
TPR and I bought a bungalow in the countryside. We planted a long border of plants in the garden and looked forward to relaxing there with books, in the sunshine, miles away from the shade of Edinburgh tenements.
TPR and I wanted to take the guided tour of the World Trade Center, but there were no places available while all the staff were occupied looking after a huge party of school children.
At lunchtime all went quiet – including the tour desk which was now about to close for the rest of the day.
A large man also wanted to take a tour, so he took my hand and led me to the desk. There he kissed me on the cheek, with the promise that I (his fiancée) would love everything that I was about to see.
This gesture must have melted the official’s heart because suddenly a special tour was unexpectedly available. (This was absolutely nothing to do with the lump of cannabis resin that my new companion had just deftly slid across the counter.)
In the YouTube video JS lay in bed flanked by two handmade brushed cotton teddy bears – both creations of mine from the 1990s. She was singing along to karaoke tunes selected by her husband RR.
I showed a clip to JG on the bus. We both agreed that the caterwauling was truly painful.
At the Northern Line station, I walked behind a man and his pig negotiating the entry barriers. After they got through, the pig took off running down the escalator. The man was chasing the pig, and screaming “Stop, pig” as other commuters scattered out of the way.
My track record with newborns was not good so I was somewhat reluctant when LM’s sister asked me if I would like to hold the baby.
While the baby was still in her aunt’s arms, I pulled back the white blanket and peeked at the tiny face. With that distinctive little nose, there was no mistaking the parentage of this child!
The family did not appreciate the risk of allowing me to take the baby. I tried to tell them that children die when I cradle them, but they did not believe me – until twenty minutes later when I handed back the tiny corpse.