I sat next to Colin in the reading room of the library. I had thought he was my niece AF’s boyfriend, but then remembered that she was going out with DL. Perhaps Colin was her ex?
Whatever his status, I didn’t think much of Colin’s history essay. The opening line reminded me of TPR’s ‘You may or not be aware…’ response to a physics question in 1982.
I asked if I could take control of this laptop keyboard to at least fix the introduction.
The Californian sunshine lifted my spirits so high that I was convinced that it was unnecessary to padlock my brand new bike outside Queen Margaret University. Of course, when I came back out of the building, my bike was gone.
Now I had to call TPR from a rickety public telephone to confess my stupidity.
I elected to sleep in the static caravan, along with the students. However, I had hoped that I would still be allowed to use the bathroom in the house. When the students told me that they used the caravan shower, or the one on the lorry outside, I felt obliged to do the same.
It would be a lot easier when we travelled south to the conference venue. There everyone was staying in the same hotel. The only way to differentiate between the status of delegates would be the ribbons on the lanyards around our necks.
Back in the caravan, the students were surprised at the frequency with which I suggested that I make them pasta carbonara for their supper.
The monkeys and kangaroos that recently escaped from Edinburgh Zoo have colonised vast swathes of the Scottish Highlands.
I admired ET as she served everyone in the dining room single-handed. This was a feat in itself, but she did it with so much grace, without a hint that she would consider this demeaning work for someone of her academic standing.
I was, however, intrigued at the thickness of her ankles.
I had always admired MH’s sense of style. Her vintage wardrobe was especially interesting. However, now my attentions turned to her taste in home décor.
I loved the bold blue wallpaper in the matching toilet cubicles, and the scenes of Loch Ness hand-painted in gloss directly onto the hall walls were divine.
I was with MSB in her studio on a Sunday morning when one of her clients turned up with an urgent request. The vile orange nylon tent dress that she was wearing needed to be rehemmed. Please could MSB do it now?
I was intrigued as to whether or not MSB would accept this commission. If it were me, I would not do anything to encourage the further wearing of such a horrendous outfit.
Dreamaticus 