I enjoyed a marvellous holiday in the Outer Hebrides with my tall, handsome, Canadian cousin.
One evening we were served seafood in a restaurant by a tall waitress who was a former member of the US Olympic rowing squad. She recognised my cousin and both were delighted to see one another again.
We didn’t bother taking the tour of the nuclear power plant because it looked boring.
It was like stepping back in time when I attended the professional networking event in London. All the old faces were there, including NO and DC.
To make retrieving my belongings easier, I waited until the very end of the evening to collect my black cashmere coat from the cloakroom. Unfortunately, however, I forgot to pick up my shoes. This meant returning to the venue on the new high-speed non-stop bullet tube – and missing my train from Kings Cross back home to Edinburgh.
My parents insisted that my sister clear up her mess downstairs and – remarkably – she set about the task. However, on close inspection I could see that all she was doing was stuffing black bin liners randomly with her belongings then dumping them upstairs.
Then I noticed water seeping in on the top floor of the house. A plumber would be called – again.
Did my parents really need to live in this wreck, I wondered?
They were really donations to a charity shop, but when I saw that the so-called trays were really nicely-decorated placemats, I took them out of the bag and popped them into my pigeon hole.
My great-grandfather came back from the dead.
I had heard that he was very like Captain Mannering, but in reality he was taller and better looking – and much posher too.
The steak dropped out of my shopping bag and fell to the ground.
A dog dashed forward to grab the meat.
The dog’s owners tackled the dog.
The only way to retrieve the steak from the dog was to remove its ribs, one by one.
TPR found us a new house in a smart Glasgow terrace opposite a park. Next I had to find a new job.
I accepted a lift to a run-down provincial town where I met Margaret, my new boss in local government. However, I was ready to hand in my resignation after an incognito lavatory inspection at my new place of employment.
DM and I were each paired up with a man to compete in a geographic television quiz show that required us to name all the streets of Stockton-on-Tees. The experience was so intense that each couple fell in love.
My partner – Andy Murray – collapsed into sobs when I insisted that I would never leave TPR for him.
TPR was the pin-up of Newcastle University. My nephew PMF was his agent. He arranged for TPR to live free of charge in the a hall of residence room, provided that he would pick up the litter on campus.
Dreamaticus 