The weather was fabulous in Orkney.
At the county show I bought the most enormous beef burger.
In Kirkwall we watched a parade of emergency services vehicles and ate free Maltesers in the art gallery.
The weather was fabulous in Orkney.
At the county show I bought the most enormous beef burger.
In Kirkwall we watched a parade of emergency services vehicles and ate free Maltesers in the art gallery.
TPR had fallen into the habit of shaming me in public. For example, he made lewd remarks about his choice of life-partner to our widowed bed and breakfast host. Then I caught him laying bets on the outcome of Wimbledon 2017 with my old colleague MM.
When I said to him ‘The headmistress will see you in the study’, he knew that he was in trouble.
I also vowed to take more interest in our joint finances when we returned home.
Three weeks into my mathematics degree I still hadn’t made it to a single class. Every time I tried to make my way to the classroom, I would be waylaid by Sir Ian McKellan and Michael York offering me small bottles of champagne to drink. I loved hanging out with those guys! Other distractions included the public red phone box located in my bedroom. Although I was compensated for the inconvenience with a massively reduced rent, men were wandering into my room at all hours to use it as urinal.
AM and I chased a man through the British Library demanding to know why he had done nothing to update the Library and Information Science Research Coalition web site since 2009.
In a meeting chaired by ED I heard that JM had submitted his PhD thesis five months early, yet I had not seen a draft of the tome.
Another academic at the meeting, who had nothing to do with this work, said that it was rather pro-technical.
I concluded that it was bound to be referred – until someone else said that the viva had taken place and JM had passed with minor corrections.
ED and I shared a glance. What must have been the quality of the examination team?
TPR announced that he needed some ‘space’ so he moved out of our marital home and into a shared flat in Bruntsfield with a bunch of undergrads and some young professionals (one of whom had just been offered a lectureship in Psychology at the University of Cambridge).
One year later, after a cycling holiday together, I begged TPR to come back home.
However, I made a nasty discovery. I withdrew my offer when he confessed that he had been sleeping with a 21 year-old student called Isabel Peters (and not Sonya as I feared). I was heartbroken – and also worried about STDs.
My Finnish friend GW looked like she had just stepped off-stage having performed with Abba. I admired her yellow patent leather mini-skirt and high heels.
I wasn’t sure how I had been invited to the ‘writing retreat’ home shared by Simon Mayo and Mark Kermode but I knew enough to remove my shoes before I stepped inside.
In one office, Simon was typing his latest novel. The French windows were open and I was astonished by the beauty of the view – a tropical sunset and a Cornish cove. Who knew Chichester was this beautiful?
Katie Price (AKA Jordan) was marrying for the fifth (or was it sixth?) time, and I was the guest of honour at her celebrations at the Bristol hotel – much to the annoyance of her tarty chief bridesmaid.