They thought that they had found the (whole) body of my aunt.
This was impossible. After the murder I had disposed of the corpse very carefully, cut it into many pieces, and distributed them over several sites.
This was clearly someone else’s victim.
This had to be the most boring and short-lived wedding celebration of all time.
Although some of my most interesting school friends were amongst the guests (including JB and GB, now a married couple themselves), TPR and I were sitting at a table where the main topic of conversation was pallets. RA and CH, both from near Hull, were leading the debate. I was thankful, however, that there was something to engage us, whether or not it was interesting: at all the other tables the wedding guests were eating in silence.
Somehow the family of the bride did not seem to think that anything was wrong. Indeed, they openly boasted about the ingenuity of limiting the celebrations to just three hours on a Saturday afternoon, and took immense pleasure in removing the table decorations (hand-made by the mother-of-the-bride) after the first course was served. This seemed to me such a wasted opportunity, not least because they had hired one of the top Edinburgh hotels as the wedding venue.
So distracted was I in internally criticising everything that I witnessed that I accidentally broke my three-week alcohol fast by taking a sip of red wine at the dining table.
Meanwhile TPR was disappointed that nobody had noticed how we had cleverly coordinated our outfits: he in a black sari and me in a long, floaty, semi-transparent black silk dress.
I had encounters with two chartered surveyors on the same day.
The first – RA – spoke to me of his ‘elephantine’ features as contrasted with my ‘beauty’ as he walked me to a tube station in London.
I did not see the second – AH – in person. Instead someone pointed out to me his award-winning sculpture. This took the form of a large chestnut that emerged through a garden wall of a leafy English suburb.
When the elevator doors opened I was disappointed to see that the lift was minuscule. How would we all fit in there?
‘Just go in one at a time’ my colleague suggested. It was clear that she could not see the problem.
I pulled the carriage out of the lift shaft, placed it on the floor, then put my foot on top of it. This made it obvious that the carriage was smaller than my shoe.
In the distance I could see the BBC buildings. I wondered whether this shrinking world might have something to do with Dr Who?
I foolishly agreed to take tea with President Trump during his official visit to the UK. However, there was some question as to whether or not I would make it to our date.
My mode of transport was my mother’s old Ford Granada. I could barely reach the pedals from the high armchair-style driver’s seat. Once in position, I struggled to remember how to manouevre a car, and ended up driving on the pavement rather than the road.
If I were to reach President Trump at all, I would be very late.
There was Hugh Grant at the station ticket booth chatting with railway staff on the same day that I was trying to make arrangements for a trip to London with DTJ and KJ.
I knew that Hugh Grant had met CM on a couple of occasions and was much a fan of his comedy as we were. This gave me an excuse to speak to the movie star.
When he shook my hand, Hugh Grant gave the impression that he was aware of my identity. Whether or not this was just an act, I did not care.
I was given a playing card sized piece of bubble wrap and shown how to use it to test for athlete’s foot (I didn’t have it) and to measure sugar consumption (I had eaten way too much mousse and needed to lose weight).
There was such a loud rustle every time that I budged in my seat that the other cinema goers were leaning over to tell me to shush. I couldn’t understand why my jacket would make such a racket until someone suggested that it was perhaps due to its age and state of cleanliness.
I left the screening early to investigate the reasons for my noisy clothing. I discovered that the jacket was so old and dirty that a family of chattering insects had set up home within the purple fleece fabric. I needed to find a washing machine – fast.
BC offered me the facilities in her ramshackle house. Although there was no washing machine to be seen, there were bath tubs of various sizes in just about every room. I was also welcome to make use of the numerous lavatories scattered around the building.
Dreamaticus 