Dressed in a shimmering, metallic ballgown, JH spun around the room with TPR. AM looked on in envy.
Meanwhile all I wanted to know was why my colleagues at Loughborough University were encouraging Masters students to write Information Science dissertations on marine biology. How were the staff qualified to supervise and examine such work?
‘It’s OK’, AM assured me. ‘They just bring in guest lecturers for that.’
I could tell KMXX’s mission when I saw her working her way along the line of men. Most of them understood it too, and were not interested.
However, the man in the queue in front of me was instantly smitten. When he realised that I knew this woman, he begged for an introduction. I hesitated, then obliged.
KMXX was clearly delighted that she had made a new conquest. I hoped that her new beau would also be satisfied in the long run.
I was lonely on the beach and looking for company (when not almost losing my Blackberry in the water when the tide came in).
I looked through pub and café doors in the hope of finding someone I knew. All I found were gatherings of unfriendly young people and landlords who were ignoring the smoking ban.
Then I spotted a Facebook post from MSB. She was in a nearby ice cream parlour enjoying a birthday treat of afternoon tea. I was overjoyed at the prospect of ending my loneliness in the company of my dear friend.
My ex-boyfriend ST invited me and his three other exes (including the wife) round to his house. Here he served us tea and scones at a long, highly-polished, mahogany table.
It was great to see the two cyclists again when they stepped off the ferry. I recognised the dark-haired girl first (for her beard). They replied sheepishly when I asked if they had enjoyed their time at the guest house. It sounded like it wasn’t quite to their tastes.
The three of us walked along the shore road to the war memorial, hoping to come across TPR on the way. We inspected the monument and discussed the failing health of the Queen (would she last until the next royal wedding?), then turned to look out to sea. A dozen or so whales and dolphin of different varieties sped past. Further out the water was so clear that we could see that the ocean was crammed with marine mammals.
When VE and I heard that Jack Charlton was at the reception in Cardiff we made it our business to track him down.
He said that he remembered meeting her, and her teddy, on the train years earlier, but I didn’t believe him. I also could not be sure that he had any recollection of the American tourists to whom he pointed out Holy Island from the East Coast line.
It soon became obvious that he was agreeing with anything that we suggested as a strategy to shake us off as fast as possible. I could tell that he had no interest in talking to us when he made a beeline for someone else, dumping me with a stranger.
The cost of signing up for the departmental Christmas party was so great that only twelve people turned up for the celebration. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the company of JB, BD and FR at my table – even though BD made a mistake with the bill, ignoring my earlier estimate of £42 per head.
Afterwards I checked into a hotel in St Andrews on my own. It took me so long to drive home from there the next day in my red Peugeot 205 (as an infrequent and inexperienced driver) that I missed my regular Friday morning meeting with colleagues.
However, I did enjoy a visit to the town of Dream (4 miles from Haddington) to see the amazingly steep road up the hill just off the high street.
At the end of the event SC laid out some jewellery on a small wooden table and asked the delegates to help themselves to any items that took their fancy. I picked up a bracelet of pale pink shell-like flowers.
The three women in the train carriage were all plain-clothed police officers. I knew this because I had been allocated the role of PhD supervisor for one of them. The woman in question, however, was unaware of this because she had not yet attended a supervision meeting. While the three of them discussed the doctoral study, I hesitated over whether or not to reveal my identity.
Then an announcement made over the train’s public address system welcomed members of the police force on-board. Now that the (supposed) cover of my travelling companions was blown, I felt obliged to reveal myself.
We all swapped business cards and complained about the unethical practices of rail companies.
At last we were getting a cat. The dog was beside himself with excitement. Brienne of Tarth was our new best friend and she needed a happy home for her flat-faced ginger cat (“Ginger”) while she was away fighting. How proud we were as we paraded Brienne around the tower blocks we called home.
Dreamaticus 