How to deal with a partner who snores (Rousse)

All six of us – PM, SM, LF, TF, TPR and I – were away from home for a night together.

In our shared room, SM took the divan and I the camp bed next to it.

When I woke in the morning I saw that SM was still asleep, dressed in chinos and a pressed blue shirt. PM could not explain why her husband had not undressed for bed, but suggested that the reason might have been something to do with my snoring.

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Bearded Bob Dylan lookalike (Rousse)

BR dyed his grey hair black, and also touched up his beard. He now looked like Bob Dylan, and I hated it.

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A culprit and Akita Staffordshire bull terrier cross dogs (Rousse)

I should have been convicted of causing a death by dangerous driving of a Lothian Buses double decker. I escaped this fate thanks to the snow that covered up all evidence of my involvement. Pinning the blame on a homeless man was my masterstroke.

I was free to spend the rest of my days with three pink-dyed Akita Staffordshire bull terrier crosses.

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A family drive along the south coast (Rousse)

With my mother at the wheel, and all three sisters on the back seat with Baby Ted and my panda, we drove along the south coast of England.

‘Is that the Isle of Wight?’ I asked, pointing to a beautiful, deserted island just a couple of miles out to sea. Even as I opened my mouth, I realised the error of my question: the Isle of Wight is both inhabited and heavily populated.

I hoped that we would stop in a small town where all the identical, yet multi-coloured, houses lined up on the main street faced the sea. However, it was clear that parking would be impossible, so we drove away from the shoreline and up the hill for coffee in a farm house.

Afterwards, rather than take the car, we decided to walk down the steps back into the town. My mother was so weak and feeble I more or less carried her the whole way.

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Hotel free late check-out hack (Rousse)

Dressed in a long white towel, I told the reception staff at the gym attached to the Jury’s Inn that if the hotel staff would not permit a late check-out, I would threaten to run naked through the hotel corridors.

‘That’ll do the trick’, they agreed.

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The toilet roll guru of raving (Belle)

It was a dangerous city at night, yet here I was climbing over walls trying to find my coat and bag after an evening out. I was glad K from school was there to keep me safe.

In the all night cafe we watched an infomercial for an upcoming ‘super rave’ in Columbia. I spotted that the footage of the rink-shaped dance floor had been spliced together from multiple sources. If you looked close enough, you could see football fights from the 1970s. The event organiser was interviewed about his ‘inspiration’ – an eccentric man he’d met who had told him “Don’t worry about the toilet roll, man. People will still come”.

“Well, they’re a bunch of arseholes”, I said loudly to no-one and everyone.

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Rejected from the religious romp (Belle)

The priests I stayed with were famous Europe-wide for their “anything goes, drop in and drop them” party nights.  But whatever I did, and whatever heavy hints I dropped, I was never invited. I was, however, allowed to walk through ‘the room’ on the way to my bedroom.

Later I made raspberry jam at my old workplace.

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