EH and I returned together from the book group meeting in West Lothian. We hailed a taxi to take us Steventon, then caught a number 11 bus that was en route to Tranent via Edinburgh city centre.
Back at home I ate a whole tin of rice pudding cold, along with a secret glass of left-over white wine.
I boarded the ferry dressed only in a thin sheet, having been forced to leave all my belongings – including my clothes and glasses – with our hosts at the the shoreline.
The ride across the inlet was short and speedy – and by powerboat so much more exciting than the usual Calmac ferry. A school of killer whales accompanied the vessel, much to my pleasure and that of my mother and two sisters.
Our destination, however, was a great disappointment. The house was partially demolished, it looked like we would be sharing with strangers, and the only entertainment appeared to be some shabby old board games (but even these looked hopeless since the contents of their boxes were incomplete).
When we ventured further to explore the countryside by car I was further annoyed because I could not appreciate it without my glasses, nor could I photograph the snowy mountain peaks because both my camera and iPhone had been confiscated at the start of our journey.
For years we had been shouting at our nephew to get down from the trees, cliffs, bridges, statues, monuments and other structures that he climbed.
This time he fell and met his comeuppance. As a consequence he was obliged to live in a back-brace for months.
Usually incredibly cool and unruffled, DM was behaving very strangely. She’d clearly been knocking back the drink, and now called on EH to speak to her ‘outside’.
The rest of us concluded that her demanding job had finally got to her.
TPR burst into tears when I asked why he was serving fish in filo pastry for breakfast.
He wouldn’t be pleased to hear that I had very much enjoyed a brief Christmas kiss with RB. However, unless this leaked out as office gossip, he would never need to know.
I was warned not to travel across London to the crescent that was swarming with infection-bearing insects. However, I argued that it was essential that I attend the meeting.
There I found Sir Anthony Eden expressing concerns about his forthcoming trial. I had a particular interest in his plight since he was a family friend.
The famous art critic presented a slide of an eighteenth century oil painting of a lady in a posh dress and hat. As soon as he revealed her her name, I was convinced that she was one of my ancestors.
I whispered this news to the man sitting to my right. He simply glared back at me with a look that said ‘I don’t believe you, and even if this were true, why should I care?’
A was in town with fiancée number 4. With a claim that they were eloping, they announced that their wedding was on Thursday.
HW was agog as she admired the engagement ring, but she would have known all about A’s most recent romance much earlier if only she had paid more attention to Facebook.
Dreamaticus 