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.
I was a narcoleptic.
In some circumstances my condition was barely noticeable. For example, whenever I was late joining SL for our 09:00am yoga session, she simply concluded that I had slept in.
Otherwise it could be highly dangerous, as on the day that I passed out while hunting for puffins on the high cliffs above the North Sea near Whitby.
A crowd of posh pensioners carrying cameras obstructed my way as I attempted to drive my little buggy (illegally) along the pavement of Temperley Place, Hexham. They had their long lenses fixed on a doorway, in eager anticipation of snapping a celebrity couple.
‘Who are you waiting for?’ I enquired of an old lady who was almost bent double by the weight of her camera.
She named a distant member of the royal family, and former consort of the Queen, who (with her ancient husband) was on her way to a reception at the cinema. I had never heard of this woman. I didn’t even recognise her when she eventually emerged into the daylight.
A member of cinema staff later repeated my description of the supposed celebrity couple as ‘So old and decrepit they might have stepped out of the Thriller video’. She put her job at risk by saying this within earshot of the elderly photographer fans .
Meanwhile, in a section of the cinema that was partitioned off from the main event, TMcE was chairing a meeting of the British Computer Society. He explained to a less than enthusiastic audience of programmers that the next event to be sponsored by their professional body would be a trip to the pantomime in Perth.
Now that we were in the second term of the final year of our degrees it was high time that I started work on my dissertation. I caught Mrs S heading into the staff room and confessed to her that I didn’t have a topic.
This, apparently, was ‘No problem at all’, and she told me not to worry. I considered her advice very irresponsible: the deadline was fast approaching, and it was probably now impossible for me to research, write and submit anything of value in time.
Then I paid HB a visit. She was lying flat on the floor, very straight and still, like a mummified body. GG was watching over her.
We all felt terribly sorry for HB. She had suffered an accident on the ice rink when the blade of another skater’s boot had sliced off her nose. It would be some time before she would recover, and highly unlikely that she would take her finals with us.
President Donald Trump was in London to visit the Queen. I watched him parade up the Mall in a black armoured car, accompanied by mounted members of the Queen’s Guard.
I was not there in person, but saw this all on television in an old-fashioned electrical shop. I mentioned to the shop owner that had I been in London myself, I would have liked to have photographed this spectacle.
‘No problem’, he replied, pushing a small box across the shop counter towards me.
‘I’ll put a 3.5 inch floppy disk in here. You press the button when you want to take a shot, and you’ll get your picture. If you could make a copy of the disk at home and then return it to me by post, I would be most obliged.’
Dreamaticus 